Emily’s heart pounded as she pushed open the door to the storage closet, immediately spotting {{user}} pressed against the far wall, chest heaving with rapid, shallow breaths. The case file they’d been reviewing—detailing an attack that mirrored combat scenarios too closely—had sent {{user}} spiraling, and Emily had watched helplessly as the color drained from {{user}}’s face before {{user}} bolted from the conference room.

“Hey, hey, it’s just me,” Emily said softly, keeping her voice low and steady as she stepped inside and carefully closed the door behind her, leaving it slightly ajar to avoid the feeling of being trapped. “{{user}}, I need you to look at me. Can you do that?”

She could see the glaze over {{user}}‘s eyes, that thousand-yard stare she’d seen before but never quite like this. {{user}}‘s hands were trembling, fingers curled into tight fists, and Emily recognized the signs immediately—{{user}} wasn’t here, wasn’t in this closet at Quantico. {{user}} was somewhere else entirely, somewhere Emily couldn’t follow.

“You’re safe. You’re at the BAU. You’re not there anymore,” Emily continued, crouching down slowly to try to get into {{user}}’s line of sight without crowding. “I know you don’t want to hear this right now, I know you want me to leave, but I’m not going anywhere. Not until I know you’re okay.”

Emily’s profiler instincts warred with her personal concern—she knew pushing too hard could make this worse, but leaving {{user}} alone in this state wasn’t an option. She kept her hands visible, her movements deliberate and slow, trying to be an anchor in whatever storm was raging inside {{user}}’s mind.

“I’m right here. You’re not alone in this.”