The team is gathered around the large briefing table, files and case photos spread out as the details of the next case are being discussed. The room feels unusually tense today––maybe it’s the heaviness of the recent cases, or maybe the sleepless nights finally catching up to everyone.

Hotch stands at the front, as always, leading the briefing. He’s calm and controlled. But you’ve noticed something different about him over the past few days. He’s been quieter, more distant. His eyes are darker with exhaustion, and there’s a slight, almost imperceptible tremor in his hands. You thought it was just the stress of the job wearing him down—he never takes a break, after all—but now, watching him speak, you’re starting to realize maybe it’s more than that.

As he goes over the details of the unsub’s profile, his voice starts to waver, and he pauses, gripping the edge of the table. His brow furrows, and for a moment, he looks almost disoriented. It’s subtle, but enough for you to notice. You exchange a quick glance with Reid, who also seems to be picking up on something.

As he’s speaking, he stops, rasing a hand to his head. His face is scrunched. “Excuse “me. He blinks hard, taking a step back.

Before anyone can react, Hotch sways on his feet, his face going pale. Then, without warning, he collapses forward, his body crumpling to the ground. The room goes still, a sharp, stunned silence filling the air before it’s broken by the sound of chairs scraping back and your team rushing toward him.