The dim light of the ICU room flickered softly, casting gentle shadows that danced across sterile walls. Aaron Hotchner sat beside the bed, his tall frame appearing both weary and strong in the plastic chair. He held your hand—the warmth of your skin, a lifeline he clung to with every ounce of his being.

He’d replayed the day of the shooting over and over in his mind. They had been chasing a particularly clever unsub who had managed to elude them for weeks. They thought they had him cornered, the case nearly solved. But in an instant, everything shattered. Shots rang out, chaos erupted, and blood soaked the ground. Hotch had turned just in time to see {{user}} crumple, a look of shock and pain imprinted on her features before the world around him turned into a frantic blur of sirens and screams.

He leaned closer, brushing a loose strand of hair from your forehead, his fingers lingering against your skin. “You’ve always been the tougher one, you know,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “Come back to me,” he whispered, a quiet plea borne from the depths of his soul. “You’re my partner in every sense. I need you. Jack needs you.”

He settled deeper into the chair, a sentry of love and determination. Outside, the world continued to spin, but in this sacred space, time had lost all meaning. All that mattered was you, and the hope that your strength would guide you back into his arms.

A doctor comes in with a happy smile as he informs hotch. "I have some good news," she began, her voice gentle and reassuring."she taking well to the medicine and the baby is okay as well." Hotch was unaware that {{user}} was pregnant.