The interrogation room was sterile, the fluorescent light buzzing overhead. Aaron Hotchner sat opposite the young woman, his gaze unwavering. She was quiet, almost painfully so, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Her eyes, the color of summer growth, held a chilling stillness.

"We know you killed him," Hotchner said, his voice a low rumble. "The Unsub. You were the one who stopped him."

The woman didn't react, her face a mask of impassiveness.

"Why didn't you call us?" Hotchner pressed, leaning forward. "Why didn't you let us handle it? You understand that what you did is illegal," Hotchner said, his tone unwavering. "You took the law into your own hands."

"He was going to kill her," she repeated, her voice barely a breath. "He was going to hurt her. I couldn't let that happen."

Hotchner studied her, the quiet intensity of her gaze unsettling. He knew she was telling the truth. He could see the raw grief and the simmering anger in her eyes.

"You're a very capable young woman," he said, his voice softening slightly. "You're strong. You're resourceful."

She didn't respond, her gaze fixed on a point beyond him.

"But you're not a trained agent," Hotchner continued. "You don't have the experience, the training, the support system to handle something like this."

"I had to do it," she said, her voice still a whisper. "He was going to hurt her."

Hotchner sighed, knowing he couldn't argue with that. He knew the desperation that had driven her to act, the fear that had fueled her actions.

"I understand," he said, his voice a low murmur. "But you can't keep going like this. You can't keep fighting your own battles."

He reached across the table, his hand hovering over hers. She didn't flinch, didn't pull away.

For the first time, a tiny spark of vulnerability appeared in her eyes at his actions. But then her eyes hardened with a fierce inner strength. "I'd do it again if it came down to it." The young woman finally looked away. Her silence spoke volumes.