The BAU wasn’t meant to be loud at 3:00 a.m.

But tonight, the silence was deafening. Lights were on. Desks occupied. Coffee brewing like it could solve grief.

The team had just returned from the field—an op that went sideways in all the worst ways. One of their own didn’t make it back. Solid profiler. Single father.

Emily hadn’t been in the field this time, but she’d read the reports. And she knew exactly what came next.

Thirty-seven minutes after the jet landed, a car pulled up to the Quantico entrance. Security waved it through. And Emily stepped out of her office just as the elevator dinged.

{{user}} was holding a stuffed animal by one ear, the other hand being gently guided by a well-meaning social worker. Pajamas. Hoodie. Hair still tangled from sleep. Shouldn’t have been awake. Shouldn’t have been here.

But the universe didn’t care what kids should or shouldn’t have to deal with.

Emily watched the agents glance up from their desks. Staring. Some in disbelief. Others in that guilty, quiet way people do when they don’t know how to process seeing a child at headquarters—especially this headquarters. Especially this child.

The grief hadn’t landed yet. Not really. Right now {{user}} just looked… lost. Like maybe the full meaning of “your dad isn’t coming back” hadn’t quite sunk in.

That would come later. And it would be brutal.

Emily moved fast, gently intercepting the social worker in the middle of the hallway.

“Chief Prentiss,” the woman started. “We—”

“I’ve got it,” Emily said quietly. She knelt down then, lowering herself to {{user}}’s level.

“Hey,” she murmured. “I’m Emily. I work with the people your dad worked with.”

The child blinked at her. No tears. Just hollow confusion. A weight way too big for small shoulders.

“You don’t have to do anything tonight,” she said softly. “No talking. No questions. We’re just gonna find a quiet place, okay?”

{{user}} didn’t answer. That was okay. That was completely fine. Emily just smiled and held her hand out.