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hotchs-big-hands · 1 year ago

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The Slaughterhouse

Part 1|Part 2| Part 3

Aaron Hotchner x plus-size fem!reader

5.3k words

Minors dni please

Warning(s): VERY DARK, graphic murder description, injury, gore, blood, fatphobia, extreme angst (with a happy ending), sort-of enemies to lovers, kidnapping, torture, references to SA, derogatory nsfw comments. Oh and I use the word fat because I personally reclaimed it to not rly insult me as it is merely a descriptive word. I do not use it in an insulting way even once in the series.

Please heed the warnings, this series is going to be dark asf. No smut in this series tho.

An escalating string of gruesomely murdered fat women begin to stack up with no end in sight. What started as an unfortunate routine case for the BAU team, takes a disturbing turn as you become entangled in the unsub's web, danger approaching closer and closer. It's only a matter of time before it's too late to bring the madness to an end.

Omg dun dun dunnn I wonder what's gonna happen. This chapter is pretty rough so please take care :( I hope you all enjoy tho! Thank you for reading so far!

This was his fault, Aaron Hotchner thought as soon as the line died. Right from the moment he had walked out of the bathroom his chest lurched horribly at the sight of the empty room and he scrambled to grab his phone to send you a text immediately, simultaneously sending one to the group chat as well.

Now he was already pulling his clothes back on as soon as you never acknowledged the messages, frantically struggling with his trousers to get them back up over slightly damp legs and calling you. For every second it rang out the sickening feeling in his stomach began to rise. No response, voicemail. A second call. No response. The team were preparing to gather downstairs as he fumbled with his remaining clothes, pulling his shoes on and grabbing his jacke-

No keys.

You'd taken the car keys from his jacket. He swore under his breath. Hotch swung the jacket over his arm and dashed out the hotel room, barely bothering with locking the door behind him. The stairs were quicker, making it to the foyer in mere seconds. He tried calling again, the line was busy. All hope that perhaps you were talking to one of the others fell through when Prentiss and JJ appeared, the raven haired woman holding her phone to her ear in a panic. She shook her head when they met eyes. No response for her either.

Hotch swallowed thickly as shortly behind the two women appeared Dave, Morgan and Reid.

“No sign of her at all?” Morgan was the first to speak, rushing over. It appeared he was wearing the same trousers, only likely having time to partially begin settling for the evening before he redressed in a new shirt to regroup. Hotch clenched his hand into a tight fist, feeling his anxiety bubble in his gut. His thumb grazed across his knuckles self-soothingly.

“She took the car keys from my jacket. We need Garcia to track the SUV (Y/n)’s in.” He spoke quickly, fumbling with his phone to dial your number again. “Someone call Garcia, please.”

The others shared a look when your first name tumbled from his mouth, but now wasn't the time to point it out to him. This was the first time anyone had heard him call you by your first name, something that none of them had heard him do before, but it would be a lie if they were to say they didn't think he had been struggling not to refer to you as such.

It was a common subject of discussion between the group; when would either of you finally crack and make a move on the other. Watching the two of you tiptoe around each other, Hotch trying to remain professional as though he wasn't on the brink of telling the world “fuck it” and confessing his feelings for you, while you were stuck in a limbo of longing for the man but understandably assuming the man wanted nothing more than a work relationship with you. The whole thing was becoming almost unbearable.

He had to keep trying to call you. He quickly dialled your number again. The attempt was fruitless. Hotch could feel his teeth gritting and his body trembling. What if something had happened to you? He couldn’t forgive himself if something had. If only he had been nicer to you, more warm towards you, maybe things would have turned out differently-

“Aaron,” Dave appeared at his side and placed his hand on his shoulder. “Breathe. Keep trying, but don’t lose yourself.”

The taller of the two of them closed his eyes for a second, drawing in a deep breath and exhaling. With a slight nod, he dialled your number one more time.

This time, you answered.

“S-sir.” He heard your voice, but it was garbled, surrounded by loud people. His nostrils flared.

“Where the hell are you?!” he hissed frantically, all attempts to calm himself down enough to speak long gone. The eyes of his team were upon him in an instant.

“I…I needed to clear my head.”

Bullshit. His heart was pounding.

“Sounds extremely noisy wherever you are to be doing that.” Hotch clenched his free hand into a tight fist at his side. “So I will ask you again, (L/n). Where are you?”

There was hesitation on the other end of the line and he felt the sense of anxiety spike, he could’ve been sick.

“I…” You hesitated. Something was deeply wrong. Mouth dry, Hotch attempted to clear his throat and prompt you to speak, only for you to beat him to it.

“I…I have to go.”

The line cut off, leaving the haunting tone of a dead line to ring in his ear. You were in danger.

“Hotch?” Prentiss queried. He slowly dropped his arm from holding the phone to his ear.

“She’s in danger.”

“What?”

The group stepped closer, the apprehension on their faces quickly paling to horror. Hotch swallowed dryly. His throat burned.

“It sounded as though she was in a bar or a nightclub. But it sounds like someone confronted her. I-” No, NO. Not again. He couldn’t go through another loss again. His eyes were stinging.

“Aaron. Look at me.”

Dave appeared in his line of sight again and Hotch drew in a shaky breath.

“This is my fault.” He mumbled. The older man shook his head.

“No, it really isn’t. But right now isn’t the time for this conversion, we have to find her and bring her back to safety, yes?”

Just as Hotch opened his mouth to speak, Morgan held his phone out for him to look at.

“Got the location of the vehicle she took. There’s a club about ten minutes from here by car.” He said.

“I’ll contact the police department and the SWAT. We’ll head out on your order.” Dave added, eyeing him. Hotch pocketed his phone. Time was ticking, he knew that. He squared his shoulders and held his head a little higher.

“We should head out, then. Be ready in no more than five minutes.”

Please, hang on a little longer for me, he thought to himself.

There was an immediate stench of viscera and death that invaded your nostrils when you regained consciousness and it forced a gag from your throat. The world was bleary, clearing up with every blink until you could make out cracked and dirty plaster on the walls surrounding you. The room was in disrepair, old stalls with rusting bars separating them lined the sides and slowly the realisation of what you were in began to creep up on you.

This was an old, abandoned slaughterhouse.

“Wh..” nausea lurched your stomach; you couldn’t be so sure if you were grateful for not having eaten or drank much of anything that day. Or was it yesterday? You scrunched your eyes shut.

There was a chuckle from just out of your viewing range.

“Aww, my little piggy is finally awake.” The same voice from before. You attempted to move your arms, only to realise handcrafted leather cuffs bound them either side of your head uncomfortably. You were strapped to a table of sorts, you didn’t want to think about who or what else had been on here before you. He chuckled again and you curled your hands into fists.

“Stop hiding.” You spat.

“Mmm, I don’t think you’re in much of a position to make demands, piggy. But, I’ll humour you.”

Heavy footsteps rounded you from the right and the figure appeared before you. You fought to stop your eyes from widening.

Standing in front of you was a young white man, much as your profile had suggested, with a conventionally attractive face and dark blonde locks of hair pushed up to the right side. He was tall, maybe around 6’, and he wore a white sleeveless top underneath a grey-blue boiler suit- which he wore with the top half tied around his waist. It was the same colour as the boiler suits the employees of the handiwork shop wore. He looked… well, normal. And something about that enraged you more than when you encountered bastards like this on the regular. He snickered, your emotions having slipped on to your face. You needed to calm down, people like him revelled in the emotions their victims expressed.

The man stepped closer to you at the foot of the table and gripped onto the sleeves of his boiler suit to tighten the knot they were tied into.

“Like what you see, pig?”

You shrugged.

“Meh, not really.” You said casually. You didn’t enjoy the emotion that flickered in his pale eyes.

“Oh, I’m more than aware. We’ll get into that, but first,” He leaned to the side to grab something, a plastic poncho, and pulled it over his head. “I’m so rude for not introducing myself. My name is James, I really can’t wait to hear what it sounds like when you scream my name tonight.”

So it was night time, the same night perhaps. You narrowed your eyes.

“Are you fucking stupid?”

James raised a brow, but the smirk that etched his face remained.

“Why? Because I kidnapped a federal agent? I enjoy the thrill of it.” He retorted. “Besides, I don’t discriminate against someone’s profession. If you’re a disgusting fucking piggy then I’m gonna kill you either way. Hell, I’d be doing your unit a favour getting rid of a slob like you from it.”

He stepped closer and bent slightly to pull something up from the sides of the table, making you swallow. Stirrups. You reared back your legs futilely, ready to kick at him.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” You warned. The man let out a laugh.

“If you kick me now, I’ll sever the tendons behind your knees.”

You froze, not resisting when he grabbed your ankles and dragged you towards him until your arms were straightened above your head. You made no noise, staring him down when he clamped your ankles into the stirrups. But as he attempted to spread your legs the fabric of your trousers pulled taut, digging into your large thighs and preventing your legs from parting to his liking. The man narrowed his eyes a little, then fumbled in his back pocket and produced a switchblade. A bead of sweat rolled down your temple as your eyes widened. In your head you could hear Hotch’s words; don’t show any fear. You were certain if he was here now he would be so disappointed in you.

James lowered the blade to the seam running along the crotch of you pants and you flinched.

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

“Are you stupid? I already told you, you have no say in the matter.” he jeered at you. Then he pressed the blade to the seam and pressed in enough to poke through, then sliced along it until he was able to rip a large hole in the fabric.

You scrunched your eyes tightly shut, feeling humiliated with your thighs and panties on full display to the disgusting man. He let out a chilling laugh.

“Aww, would you look at that. Wearing these cute lil frilly panties for your boss, huh?”

Wh-what? You felt your stomach lurch. How would he-

“Don’t look so surprised, I know about your feelings for your boss.” He said.

You pulled at the stirrups, to no avail with the modifications of more handmade leather cuffs being attached to them, until your ankles creaked.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You felt nauseous from the look he gave you, his delight only more evident with every passing second.

“Oh? You wanna hear me say it? I know you yearn for that man, want him to fuck you real good, don’t you? It’s such a shame you’re fucking disgusting though.”

You needed to calm down, breathing deeply in through your nose and out of your mouth as best you could.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about-”

“Bull-fucking-shit! You’re a bad fucking liar, agent (L/n). You seriously think no one sees it? It’s pathetic really, you being desperately in love with your boss and craving even an ounce of praise from him.” He scoffed then, rounding the table to your right side, threatening to leave your eye line. “I bet you’ve been loving sharing a bed with him, haven’t you?”

The next intake of air lodged in your throat and you choked, chest rising and falling rapidly as you coughed and spluttered. He knew?! This whole time, every moment of this case, he had been watching, stalking. God, if he had seen you sharing a bed then that meant he had seen you curled up to Hotch every fucking night. But how? Your room was up a flight of stairs. Your eyes darted around the room, panic really beginning to sink in and James used the moment to pull over a trolley of various tools, each more stomach-churning than the one before it. And then you noticed it; a little red flashing light amidst the other objects. This… this was being recorded.

“Now, what should I use to loosen you up for me, hm?” He changed the subject casually, dragging his hands over his various tools. “Maybe a knife, cut your pussy open wide for me. Maybe force a bat or an ice pick up there.”

Your chest lurched, your body automatically pulling at your bindings. This couldn’t truly happen, right? In your mind his face appeared, those beautiful brown eyes. Oh… you’d really messed up big time, and you wouldn’t even be able to take responsibility for it. This would be nothing but hefty paperwork and a headache for Hotch to deal with. The thought made your throat tighten, burning and painful as you fought back the urge to cry. You wouldn’t give this fucker the satisfaction of seeing you cry, even if it wasn’t out of fear.

The glint of a large blade harshly returned you to reality and your eyes settled on the large, horrifying blade in James’ hand. He half-smirked, showing off the butcher’s knife to you.

“What do we think, hm? This one should do the job perfectly. After all, it’s used for slicing up animals like you.” He said with a voice full of utter glee. You glared back in retaliation, eyes shining in the dim light of the grimy room.

“Go fuck yourself.”

Something glinted in his eye, then before you knew it he slammed the blade down hard into your mid-thigh and there was nothing to stop the throat-tearing scream that forced its way out of you.

The SUV was still parked outside the club when the team arrived, kevlar vests on with the striking white ‘FBI’ letters spread across the chest area. Mutually, it was decided to go in and make it known why they were there, to ask around as rapidly as possible and send everyone home to safety. With a slight nod at each other, the team rushed in.

“FBI! Turn the lights on and switch that music off, now!” Morgan commanded loudly, earning a flurry of surprised gasps and hushed murmurs. The group spread through the room, eyes darting around as they searched the faces around them.

“I know this is very alarming, but we are in need of the whereabouts of two people who were here recently.” Hotch said in a clear, but stern voice. Two photographs were shown around the club, one with your face on it and the other the face of the suspected unsub, a sight that made him swallow thickly. This shouldn’t have ever been something they needed to do.

At first it was tensely quiet with no one moving, every second ticking by loudly in his head.

“Hotch.” JJ motioned behind him and he turned on his heel, now face to face with a young woman. She appeared nervous before him, avoiding eye contact and hesitating to approach. With a deep breath, Hotch forced himself to relax and soften his facial expression to a point where the woman felt comfortable enough to continue stepping forward.

“I… I saw them by the bar, she had a phone call when a guy approached her. He followed her outside.”

“Any discerning details about the man?” he encouraged. The woman tightly closed her eyes for a second as she tried remembering anything else.

“He was wearing a full body suit like- like Michael Myers or some shit, only it was a lighter greyish colour. Hard to tell under the dim lighting at the time though. He had curly blonde hair too like that picture." She spoke so quickly her words tripped over one another, but it was legible enough for Hotch to know instantly that it was their guy. But that meant…

“Did anyone see where they went when they went outside?” JJ said loudly, but there was no answer. No one knew where he had taken you.

Hotch felt his hands trembling a little and his heart pounded in his chest. Fuck, you must be terrified right now- if you were even alive at this point. He had no way of knowing. The group followed behind him as he abruptly rushed outside with Dave hot on his tail.

“Aaron-”

“We need to hurry. Get Garcia on the line to track where his van is.” He cut the older man off, turning to face the others.

“Already on it.” Morgan said, pressing his phone to his ear.

Hotch’s frown deepened.

“On loudspeaker.”

With a nod the dark-skinned man held his phone out and everyone could hear the shrill tone of the line ringing. It was only a couple of rings before Garcia answered.

“Any sign of her?” The usually peppy and witty voice of Garcia came through more serious and edged with worry, it made Hotch’s stomach turn. He cleared his throat.

“This is Hotch. We haven’t, but we know who took her. I need you to search for James Humphrey’s licence plate and track where the vehicle is now.”

There was clacking on the keyboard on Garcia’s end of the line, moments later she spoke again.

“I got the number plate. You’re looking for a FDK-845 licence plate. Um, let me see where it is currently…” Her voice trailed off and was followed by more clacks of her keyboard.

Then she gasped.

“Garcia?” Morgan called out.

“Oh god…”

“Where is the van now, Garcia?” Hotch questioned her in a less than patient way- something he regretted and filed away to apologise for later.

“I-I’m sorry. The location- it’s an old, abandoned slaughterhouse.” The colourful technical analyst barely managed above a whisper. Fuck.

“Send the address. We’re heading there now. Thank you, Garcia.” Hotch offhandedly pointed to JJ and spoke quickly. “Call for an ambulance, get them to come to the same address when you get it.”

“Of course.”

Without another moment, he rushed out and was already climbing back into the SUV he’d arrived in earlier to get going. The team, police and SWAT followed suit and moments later they were off, sirens blaring and flashes of blue and red painting the world around them in an alarming light show. Who knew if you were even alive now or not.

“Aaron, you need to calm yourself.” Dave said from the passenger seat. Hotch scoffed.

“I’m doing fi-”

“-You can lie to yourself about that all you want, but it doesn’t work with me.”

Aaron sighed, keeping his eyes on the road as they raced through the, thankfully, empty streets and began to make it to the outskirts of town.

“I feel as though I pushed her to feel responsible for what happened. I…” He swallowed thickly. “I haven’t exactly been the most welcoming towards her.”

“I know, we’ve all seen it. But we also know why you keep her at arm’s length.”

The younger of the two older men scoffed.

“Dave-”

“-Save your breath on denying it. You know I’m right.”

“Yeah… We- we should stay focused on finding her. Hopefully still alive.” Hotch mumbled. This time, Dave was the one to scoff.

“Of course she will be alive. She’s stronger than you give her credit for.”

“I know. But you saw what this man did to the others.”

Dave said nothing more, turning his attention to the road ahead. It was quiet for a few minutes, that is until a building came into view. Hotch glanced at the man beside him.

“Tell everyone to turn off their lights and sirens. We don’t want to alert James to our presence.” He said.

The world fell silent and dark not too long after, and the foreboding silhouette of the slaughterhouse loomed larger and larger ahead of them, the pale moon falling behind the decaying structure. They came to a stop outside, quietly climbing out of their vehicles several yards away to lessen the chance of being heard from within the building. Ahead of them all was the van from the handiwork business with the same licence plate Garcia provided. It was quickly determined it was empty when two of the SWAT agents broke the locks of the back doors to the vehicle, finding nothing and thus the operation to head inside the facility began.

Then the most horrific shriek they’d all ever heard echoed out into the night from within the large building and it was as though time stopped altogether, along with Hotch’s heart.

That was you screaming.

“We need to go in now.” Hotch gritted, Everyone nodded, faces a mix of horrified and stony.

With their guns drawn, everyone followed their set out positions, stepping lightly as they entered from different areas of the building. Hotch rounded a corner, Morgan and the police chief tailing him along with some of the other officers. They paused, then rushed into the main room where the two figures were.

“FBI! James Humphrey, put your hands on your head where we can see them!” Hotch yelled, then the scene before him began to sink in. Your ashen face with tears streaking your cheeks, the position you were held in. Then the blood- so, so much blood. James twisted the blade that was sunk into your thigh and made you cry out again. He was grinning.

“Aww damn, you got me,” He said slowly, then turned his attention to the dark haired man without letting go of the knife. “But you have to admit, she looks so nice, all defenceless and covered in blood, don’t you think?”

Hotch stared him down, gun aimed at the blonde’s head with an unwavering stare.

“Shut up and put your hands on your head.”

James raised a brow, as though he had realised something.

“Oh! You’re the one, aren’t you?”

What? Hotch’s brow twitched. But before he could speak you strained at the buckles around your wrists.

“Shut the fuck uP!”

Your words, while full of venom and urgency, were also slurred. You were losing too much blood. James chuckled.

“Let’s open you wide for him, shall we? A nice little surprise for your loved one.”

Tightening his grip on the blade, he yanked it to the side and sliced your thigh open wider than before and caused you to scream in agony.

Hotch didn’t hesitate pulling the trigger. There was a loud bang, then the monster fell to the ground, a perfect hole between his cold eyes finishing him.

He shoved his gun into its holster with shaky hands, barely registering that the others were also in the room with him. He just needed to reach you. His stomach felt cold when he came to stand before you, your wrists and ankles red rimmed from pulling at the straps, but most of all your thigh was pulsing out blood. Crimson everywhere. Your eyes settled on him and they widened as you began to struggle.

“N-no! Don’t look at me!”

He moved fast, unfastening the buckles around your ankles and pressing his knee to your groin, applying as much as his body weight as he could to you. He hated the scream that tore through you.

“(L/n)! Please, keep your eyes on me. Stay with me. I’m going to remove my belt and try to use it to tie a tourniquet, okay?” he said as calmly as he could, maintaining the pressure on your pelvic bone. You screeched, trying to flail away from him. He could feel the bone beneath his knee creaking disturbingly. “(Y/n)!”

This made you pause, and you stared at him.

“S-sir- it h-hurts!”

God, his heart felt like it was splintering.

“I know, sweetheart, I know. I need to try and keep the bleeding under control though, okay? Just until the EMTs come in. Will you let me?” He spoke softly to you, then glanced at Morgan, who had checked if the killer was confirmed to be dead. “Morgan, my keys are in my pocket. Grab my jacket from the car.”

“On it.” He said and rushed over to stuff his hand into Hotch’s pocket, fishing for the keys and sprinting out of the room. Keeping his eyes on you, Hotch noticed your own lazily trailing over his face as though you weren’t so aware he was truly in front of you right now.

“I… I always wanted you to like me, sir.”

No. He unbuckled his belt and, while wincing guiltily, he lifted your leg and wrapped the belt around your large thigh, causing you to let out another sound he would not soon forget.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. But please save your energy, try not to talk.” He said, voice thick with tears. He turned his head left and right, eyes wide. “Where the hell are the EMTs?! Get them in here now!”

Absently, he was aware some of the others had rushed over to remove the buckles around your wrists, revealing how sore they were. You began to sob, chest heaving as you gazed up at him.

“Sir… I..”

“Shhh, please. (Y/n), I need you to focus on conserving your energy.” He said softly, but you shook your head, scrunching your eyes closed tightly.

“No! I need to- I need to tell you something, Aaron.” You shifted on the table, missing the startled expression on Hotch’s face at the sound of his name. You had never called him that before.

From the other end of the table Hotch could feel the eyes of his agents on him, but he couldn't stop looking at you, fixated on the pain in your eyes. As he opened his mouth to speak, Morgan sprinted back into the room with Hotch’s jacket in his grasp and held it out.

“Hotch, here-” He said quickly, swallowing thickly at the sight of you. “Think the medics are near. Saw flashing lights coming down the road we took.”

Hotch took hold of his jacket and exhaled.

“Sweetheart, I-I’m sorry but this is gonna hurt.” He fumbled and pressed it into the wound site, causing your back to arch with a shriek. He felt as though he would vomit, knowing that despite him doing this to stop you from bleeding out he was causing you unimaginable pain. A stray tear dripped onto his tie and it was then he realised he was crying.

In his hands, he could already feel your blood soaking right through the stiff fibres of the jacket, so he pressed down even more firmly, trying not to falter when you choked out.

“A-Aaron…” You mumbled, voice weaker than before. He froze. Your eyelids drooped slightly as your lower lip wobbled. “I- you need to know something…”

“(Y/n), please-”

“I don't have much time! I'm so, so cold. Can't feel my legs,” You cut him off desperately. “Just- you need to know I-I’ve always liked you, maybe more than I should. I just… always think about you, maybe we could have been friends in another time.”

It was as though his lungs constricted in his chest and he heaved, gasping out a noise between a cry and whimper. Fuck, fuck! It should never have turned out this way. He wanted to reach out for you, to hold you, wipe those tears and reassure you it was okay and he liked you too. But then your eyelids drooped further, indicating you were about to pass out.

“(Y/n)? Hey, stay with us now!” Prentiss called out to you, shaking your arm slightly. But you didn't respond, staring straight forward. A deep coldness spread through Hotch’s core. No… no, no, no.

“Chest compressions. Derek- start chest compressions!” He shouted, watching the dark skinned man approach quickly to begin pumping his hands roughly but to a beat against your chest. Then he looked at JJ. “Find out where they are-where are the paramedics?!”

The blonde woman appeared startled, more so from the scene unfolding before her. But she nodded and sprinted away. He didn't even know where Dave and Reid were at this point, and yet he couldn't find it in himself to care.

“(Y/n) sweetheart, I need you to wake up. Please open your eyes!”

“Come on, Sugar, can't leave us hanging like this!” Morgan chanted between each chest compression.

Nothing. Hotch could feel his knee locking from the position he held it in, but he did not move. He would not forgive himself for this, the least he could do was injure his knee to keep you alive. You still didn't reawake, body jolting with every deep press of Morgan's hands on your chest.

Finally, he heard the running footsteps and the sound of something metallic being dragged into the building.

“Medics here! Please, allow us access to the patient!” An unfamiliar commanding voice shouted. A flurry of people crossed the space towards the table and immediately took over from Morgan efforts, letting the man step back and take a deep breath. Another had an oxygen mask and bag and placed it over your face, asking for your name.

“Sir, please let me get to her.” Another medic said beside him, but he didn't move. He was frozen.

“Come on, man. You gotta let them help her.” Morgan sounded far off, Hotch couldn't focus on him.

“Sir. I need you to move.” The paramedic was more firm now, then he felt strong arms wrap around his upper body and pulling him back.

“No! She'll bleed out!” Hotch struggled against Morgan's grip to no avail when the both of them stumbled backwards to the far side of the room, letting the medics reach you.

“Stop! You need to calm yourself down, man! They've gotta get her stable enough to take her to the ambulance.” Morgan said, and only then did the frazzled unit chief stop struggling against him. He choked out a sob as they worked around you, manoeuvring you carefully out of the stirrups and onto the gurney. No noise came from you, his stomach tightened. And suddenly, they were rolling the gurney out of the room.

“I'm going with her.”

Hotch began to follow behind the group of paramedics, ignoring the horrified looks around him. Before he could even speak one of them spotted him and met him half way across the yard, eyeing his bloodied appearance.

“Sir…”

“Please. Let me come with her.” He pleaded softly, hands curled up tightly into fists.

“Sir, I don't know if that's a good idea. Our patient keeps going into cardiac arrest, this can be distressing-”

“-And she is my agent. You must let me see her to the hospital.”

Hotch stared at the paramedic firmly, although their face was becoming blurry.

From within the ambulance came the sound of frantic beeps and they gave Hotch one last look, murmured a quick apology and turned away to run over, clambering inside.

All he could do was watch them continue chest compressions on you, then the doors closed and the vehicle pulled away, leaving him standing there. Everything felt distant now, the calls of his name, the sound of several pairs of footsteps, it was murky.

Hotch felt himself heave, double over and with a groan; he vomited onto the dirt yard.

Oh nooooooooo what a mess :3 thank you for reading this far!! And also I'm sorry LMFAO

Taglist:

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