The night was cold and still. For you, the damp chill was just what you needed to clear your head. The weight of the day's cases and the tension within the BAU, especially with Hotch, pressed down on you.

Despite the thin layer of frost covering the edges of the lake, you found solace in the quietude of the night, the sound of water lapping gently against the shore the only thing to interrupt the silence.

The BAU was your life—one you were deeply committed to. But it was a life you shared with a man you didn't particularly like or trust—Hotch. Strict, unyielding, a stickler for procedure. Your interactions with him were nothing but terse exchanges and cold, calculating stares.

Even when you had to work together on a case, it was clear there was a mutual disdain that neither of you were willing to bridge. And yet, you were colleagues, tied to the same dark work.

Tonight, though, something felt different. You had come out to the lake to think, to breathe in the cool night air, hoping it would offer some reprieve from the strain of the most recent case where a serial killer was racking up a large body count, terrorizing the city.

But as you wandered alongside the lakeside path, the silence was shattered by the sound of footsteps crunching the gravel. Whipping around, your eyes widened in the dim moonlight.

There, standing at the water's edge, was Hotch, stooped over as if performing some dark ritual. It took a moment to process what you were seeing: a body lay draped at Hotch's feet, its limbs limp and lifeless.

A strangled gasp escaped your lips.

Hotch's head snapped up, his dark eyes meeting yours, a flash of panic and surprise crossing his face. In that moment, everything seemed to freeze.

You stared at Hotch, and Hotch stared at you, his face shadowed with an expression you had never seen before. Guilt? Fear?

"What are you doing here?" Hotch's voice was low, almost a whisper, yet it seemed to echo in the stillness of the night. "What are you... {{user}}, what are you doing here?"