Aaron rushed into the BAU, his footsteps heavy and urgent against the tile. His face was carved with tension — not his usual unreadable stone, but something rawer. Worry. Panic. Rage barely hidden behind his eyes.

“Where is she?” he demanded, asking the first agent who crossed his path, not even bothering to stop walking. “Where’s {{user}}?”

No one gave him a straight answer. A few glances. A couple of stutters. But nothing that slowed him down.

“Spencer,” he barked, catching sight of Reid near the coffee machine. “Where’s {{user}}?”

Spencer blinked, caught off guard by the intensity. “I—I don’t know. Last I saw her—”

Aaron didn’t wait. He was already moving again, storming down the hallway until he spotted Rossi outside the meeting room.

“Where is she?” he asked again, voice tight with something more than anger.

Rossi didn’t speak. He simply pointed toward the conference room with a subtle nod.

Aaron followed the direction — and when he saw you, the breath left his lungs like a blow to the chest.

You were seated at the far end of the table, arms tucked into the sleeves of a hoodie far too big for you. Your face was bruised, lip split, the shadows under your eyes deep. You didn’t flinch when you saw him. You didn’t even move. You just looked tired.

Aaron didn’t think.

He pushed the door open and crossed the room in three quick steps before you could even speak.

Then his arms were around you — tight, protective, desperate — pulling you into him like he was afraid you’d disappear. Your cheek pressed into his chest, his heart racing beneath your ear.

You didn’t cry.

But you let him hold you.

Because for the first time in hours — maybe longer — you felt safe again.

“I’ve got you,” Aaron murmured into your hair, voice shaking. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”