Chapter Text
Brisk D.C. breeze, that cheap coffee-cart smell under your nose, the clicking of heels on the pavement- that was it. The moment you looked forward to every week, hoping that Aaron would be around to spend it with you. Breakfast- well, more like a brunch- that you made up at home and brought to his work, right after grabbing two coffees. You didn’t drink coffee much, so the second cup was for Garcia. Regardless of if Aaron was working a case or not, Garcia was always there to graciously accept the coffee.
You were wearing your cozy autumn cardigan, the one with the fur along the hood that got tight around the wrists and extended to the middle of your palm. Your hair, long and blowing in that breeze, was near black at the roots but faded into a warm honey blonde. You shivered a little in your thin black leggings, though your calves were warmed by the thick winter socks you had pulled up under your boots.
The building was bland and had sharp corners, much like Aaron, you thought, if you hadn’t known any better. The security guards there knew you well, and greeted you with a smile as you approached the doors.
“Here to see Aaron?” The fellow, James, asked, typing something into a computer and taking your drivers license.
“Am I that predictable?” You said with a short laugh, eagerly awaiting your visitor pass that you would pin to your very out of place cardigan. You never had any business dressing like an FBI agent- you were a writer, having run a few blogs and merrily pursuing your first novel. Anything comfortable would suffice, specifically for sitting and with a laptop trying to spit words out, hoping the story you were trying to tell would resonate with somebody else wearing something comfortable and just sitting around.
“Only to me, Mrs. Hotchner. Have a good day.”
You hesitated, smiling politely as you took your visitors pass. You weren’t “mrs. Hotchner”, at least, not yet- you hoped to stay with Aaron for the rest of your life, but you knew how unpredictable existing could be. Regardless, the guard didn’t seem to make anything of your awkward pause and turned his attention to the next visitor, a stiff young man with broad shoulders and dark buzzed hair.
-
“Hey! Y/n! It’s nice to see you.” Spencer stood to greet you with that warm Spencer-smile, his small frame so easy to hug. He was getting stronger, you noticed, but noticed quickly after that Garcia was tip-tapping over your way clad in her bright pink pencil skirt and floral top.
“You too, doc. Garcia!” You said, holding out her coffee, “as always, just the way you like it. Very caffeinated and very sweet, just like you.”
“Oh, you are just the most amazing person to ever grace my sight-“
“Hey now,” Morgan chimed in, leaning on Reid’s desk, “what am I?
“Oh hush, chocolate thunder, you already know what you are to me-“
“Is Aaron in?” You asked, hitching your bag up on your shoulder.
“Uh, yeah, he’s been shut in his office all morning but-“
“Okay, great, thanks,” you said quickly, glancing to the window looking in towards his desk. His brow, permanently furrowed, seemed tense and unforgiving. He had one hand against his temple, his eyes squinting down at what you could only assume were horrendous crime scene photos. You were, admittedly, curious about the gruesome aspects of the crimes- as a writer, you had curiosities about every part of life, especially death. You and Rossi has discussed it once at a dinner at his house- or mansion, as he preferred to call it.
You knocked on the door.
“Aaron? It’s me- I’m- I’m here-“ you pushed open the door carefully and let your eyes adjust to the darker light. He glanced up from his file, his expression still and unchanging.
“Hi. Sorry, I have a lot of work to do.”
“I’m sure you could use a break. Ten minutes? I made sandwiches-“
“I really don’t have time. This is important- it’s a complicated case, and the paperwork-“
“Did you forget I was coming?”
“Of course not. This is just very important, so can we just- can we plan another time?”
Taken aback, you swallowed over a sudden lump in your throat and shrugged. “I mean. I guess.”
“You don’t have much else to do, right? Maybe Friday we can do this.”
“Um- I’m sorry?”
“What?” He asked, still not looking up.
“I have work to do, too.”
“Oh. Yes. Your book- um, I’m sorry, I’ll see you tonight. Probably late. I’ll wake you if you’re asleep.”
“Aaron.” You said, lips shaking slightly. He didn’t respond. “Aaron.”
“Y/n, I’m sorry. I know I set this time aside for us, but we have a new lead involving the prison break case, and you know how important-“
“-Catching those serial killers is for the safety of the public and your team. Yeah, I know. Just. Fine- here, have your lunch. I’ll see you later.”
“Y/n- you know I’d love to see you-“
“No, no, I get it. That’s how it was with your wife, right? Some things were more important, until they weren’t.”
He looked up at you, his eyes low and studying. A pang of guilt shot through you, realizing what you had implied, but you were upset and decided to let it be for now.
“I’m trying to avoid that situation happening again to someone.” Cold. Deflated. His work-voice.
“I’ll get jack from school. Don’t worry about waking me up when you get home.”
He watched you walk out, tears bubbling in your eyes. The team watched you go, but you kept your head and eyes down and sauntered onwards. You tried to be understanding about his job- it was crucial, important- but you knew that you should be as well. He even told you that, when you started seeing each other- every life and relationship he saved would mean nothing if he couldn’t come home and have his own life and love. Lately, with all the stress, he seemed to forget about that, and more often than not he cast you aside, either by sleeping in his office or coming home so late it was practically morning. He’d miss your calls, forget to call back- the jealous girlfriend deep within you thought maybe he was losing interest, maybe he was seeing someone else- but the rational adult in you knew it was just the pressure of the job. He had a lot of people to please, a lot of people to lead, and a lot of likes on the line the longer it took him to hunt down each killer that escaped.
Once you stepped in the elevator, you took a moment to breathe. When the door stopped on another floor, you glanced into your bag and saw the little present wrapped up inside of it. It was a little box, and in it was a onesie that said FBI with the positive pregnancy test you had taken a week ago.
The same boy from earlier stepped into the elevator, smiling politely as you closed your bag and looked up to try and keep the tears in your eyes.
“Tough day?” He asked, looking up at the floor number count down to the parking garage.
“Uh, yeah,” you said, a little startled, “it’s nothing really. Just emotional lately.”
He nodded, “I get it. This building is also bursting with pressure. You can feel it in the air. You’d think the stress alone could wipe everyone out.”
You pressed your lips into an awkward smile, and noticed the press pass tagging to his bag.
“Where do you work?” You asked.
The elevator dinged and he held his hand in front of the sensor to let you off first.
“Just a small blog online. I’m trying to be a writer, and I wanted to do a story on the BAU. Serial killers, you know. That’s what everyone wants to hear about.”
“That’s awesome! I had something of a blog myself not too long ago. Trying to switch over to the novel side of things.”
“Very cool. Well, it was nice to see you. Have a great day, Mrs. Hotchner.”
You were already walking back to your car when you realized what he had said. Maybe he heard the security guard say it earlier- you hadn’t mentioned your name at all, right? You didn’t even have the last name Hotchner. You weren’t married.
“Oh, sorry, uh, I think you dropped this-“ he sounded much closer than he had before.
You turned and fast, reaching into your bag for the pepper spray you kept handy since college. All too fast, though, there was a belt around your neck and the boy grabbed your legs tight. You tried to kick and scream, but no air left your throat. Your eyes watered and felt like they would bulge out of your head, and a dry bit of fabric was tied into your open mouth and the boy roped u; your ankles. There was a sharp hit to your head, and you could feel them tying you up more- your wrists, your knees- the gag on your mouth pulled out some of your hair. Your vision blurred, and shortly before it faded into a cloudy haze of black and white shadows, you heard yourself mutter Aaron.