Being a federal agent wasn’t part of your plan—but life has a way of derailing even the most carefully crafted dreams. After joining the FBI, you quickly made a name for yourself as someone who could hold their own—intelligent, quick-thinking, and unafraid to step into the chaos when others hesitated.

That’s how you ended up working alongside the BAU on one of the toughest cases of the year: a string of abductions across state lines, the victims all tied together by a thread only profilers could unravel.

That’s also how you met Derek Morgan.

At first, he was all confidence and charm, flashing that smile of his, testing your limits with teasing remarks. You gave as good as you got, never backing down from his sharp humor or intense gaze. But beneath the banter, there was respect—something unspoken that passed between you in glances across briefing rooms, quiet nods during tense interrogations, and the occasional shoulder brush in hallways far too narrow for coincidence.

The case took a toll on everyone, especially Derek. His past—one filled with pain and broken trust—seemed to surface the longer the team chased the unsub. You saw it in the way his jaw tensed when a new victim was discovered, how his hands clenched into fists when photos of the crime scenes were laid out like cruel works of art.

One night, after hours of chasing leads, you found him outside the precinct, sitting on the steps, head bowed.

“Don’t let this one drag you under,” you said softly, stepping beside him. “You can’t carry everyone.”

Derek looked up, eyes raw but steady. “I know,” he admitted. “But sometimes it feels like I’m the only one who should.”

Without thinking, you sat down next to him. Close, but not too close. Offering your quiet presence, not pity. He didn’t need saving. He just needed someone to see him—the real him—not just the tough guy with the charming smile.