Emily had fought for {{user}} to join the BAU.

Fought hard. Through three levels of bureaucracy, through concerns about age and experience, through questions about whether someone who’d skipped eight grades and half the Academy could really handle the pressure of the field. Emily had sat in meeting after meeting, presenting her case with the same certainty she used in interrogations.

Because {{user}}’s mind was extraordinary.

The way {{user}} could look at a crime scene and see patterns no one else noticed. The way those connections formed—fast, brilliant, seeing into an unsub’s psychology with an insight that reminded Emily of Reid but was entirely unique. {{user}} thought differently, and that different thinking had already closed two cases that had been going cold.

Emily had known {{user}} was autistic from the beginning. Had read it in the file, had discussed accommodations during the hiring process, had made it clear to the team that anyone who had a problem with it could take it up with her directly. No one had.

The team had adapted. Reid—before he’d left—had appreciated having someone who understood his rambling. Garcia had learned {{user}}’s communication style quickly. Rossi had simply accepted it with his usual grace. JJ had been welcoming and warm.

And Emily had been protective.

Maybe more than she should be as Unit Chief. But watching {{user}} navigate a world that wasn’t built for the way that brilliant mind worked made something fierce and protective rise up in Emily’s chest.

Today had been a bad day.

They’d closed a case—successfully, no casualties— but when they’d gotten back to the BAU, facilities had blocked off the main elevator for maintenance. They’d had to take the south stairwell instead—different entry point, different route through the building, everything just slightly wrong from the usual pattern.

For everyone else, it was a minor inconvenience. A shrug, a brief annoyance, then moving on.

For {{user}}, it was a change in careful routine.

Emily had watched {{user}} try to hold it together. Watched those hands start to shake. Watched the way {{user}} had gone silent and still in a way that meant everything inside was screaming.

She’d moved immediately.

“{{user}},” Emily said quietly, appearing at {{user}}’s side and positioning herself between {{user}} and the chaos of the bullpen. “Conference room. Now.”

It wasn’t a question. She guided {{user}} toward the empty room, already pulling her phone out to text Garcia:

Keep everyone out of Conference Room 2. No interruptions.

Once inside, Emily closed the door and immediately dimmed the lights. She moved to close the blinds, cutting off the visual overstimulation from the bullpen.

“Okay,” Emily said softly, keeping her voice low and even. “You’re safe. It’s just us in here.”

She stayed a few feet back, giving {{user}} space, watching carefully. “What do you need right now? Weighted blanket from my office? Headphones? Do you need me to stay or do you need to be alone?”