Chapter Text
The problem wasn’t the ambush.
The problem was realizing—far too late—who it was meant for.
Hotch stood in the BAU conference room, arms crossed, jaw tight, eyes scanning the improvised board.
Photos.
Names.
Connections.
A pattern that refused to settle… until it suddenly did.
—It’s not one of ours —he said at last—. Not directly.
Morgan looked up.
—Then why hit a shared base?
Hotch’s gaze locked onto a name circled twice in red marker.
Leroy Jethro Gibbs.
—Because he doesn’t follow patterns —Hotch replied—. And that makes them sloppy.
The silence that followed was heavy.
Not because Gibbs was unfamiliar with danger—but because he was too good at surviving it.
The mistake revealed itself hours later.
The ambush didn’t happen where they expected. It wasn’t quiet. It wasn’t clean.
And it wasn’t against Gibbs… not the way they’d planned.
Hotch arrived minutes after the chaos ended.
Abandoned vehicles.
Signs of struggle.
Blood—not enough to mean death, but enough to mean something worse.
—They took him —an NCIS agent said—. But not how we thought.
Gibbs was there.
Standing.
Furious.
Unharmed.
And staring at the exact spot where he should have been taken.
—It wasn’t me —Gibbs said quietly.
Hotch turned to him.
—I know.
The enemy’s mistake was twofold.
First, they underestimated the BAU’s speed.
Second… they didn’t account for Hotch understanding the message before anyone else.
The call came that night.
A burner phone. One call. A distorted voice.
—The deal is simple. You for him.
Hotch didn’t ask who.
—Where?
—Tomorrow. Midnight. Alone.
Gibbs slammed his hand on the table when Hotch hung up.
—No.
—Yes —Hotch said calmly.
—You don’t trade yourself for me.
Hotch met his stare. Steady. Controlled.
—This isn’t personal. It’s tactical.
—Don’t lie to me —Gibbs growled.
For a brief moment, something unspoken passed between them. Respect. Recognition. A dangerous understanding.
—They expect someone who won’t run —Hotch continued—. Someone who understands rules. I fit that profile.
—And I don’t —Gibbs said.
—Exactly.
The exchange point was off-grid. No cameras. No witnesses. A dead zone between jurisdictions.
Hotch stepped out of the vehicle with his hands visible.
Calm.
Too calm.
Gibbs watched from a forced distance, held back by more agents than he could count.
His fists clenched as he saw Hotch taken without violence. Without urgency.
As if it had always been the plan.
—It wasn’t the plan —Gibbs muttered.
But it was already too late.