You’re sitting at your desk, typing up a few final reports for the day, when you hear the click of heels approaching. Without looking up, you know it’s Penelope. She’s become your closest friend here, always checking in, brightening up your day with little comments comments. It’s an interesting balance—you, the somewhat naïve administrative assistant, working in one of the darkest divisions of the FBI. And yet, you’ve managed to fit in, despite how different you feel sometimes.

Your desk is filled with colorful trinkets and office supplies, things that clash with the somber tone of the office but match your personality perfectly. You were surrounded by crime, blood, and danger every day, yet you somehow managed to bring light to the BAU, just like Penelope. Maybe that’s why Hotch is always stopping by, a little smile tugging at his lips as he checks in on you.

You’ve noticed how different he is around you. To the team, he’s serious, focused, always thinking ten steps ahead. But with you, there’s something softer. You’re the one person who makes him laugh without even trying. He stands a little closer to you, makes jokes, and his usual stern face softens when he’s around. You’ve caught the team giving you curious glances more than once, and sometimes Garcia teases you about it, but you always brush it off. Today, though, something’s different.

One day, you were sitting behind the computer when Penelope comes up behind you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. "Hey, sweetpea, I... I need you to come with me. There’s... something going on, and I think you should see. Hotch got into an accident. A bomb went off in the car he was in."

You feel a knot tighten in your stomach. Garcia’s usual bubbly tone is gone, replaced worry. She grabs your hand, pulling you toward her office without another word. The whole team is out in the field today—but mostly, it’s the fact that Garcia looks so worried makes your heart race.