The moment you step into the BAU bullpen, conversations dip. Not out of malice — out of curiosity. Out of caution. Out of the kind of awareness that only comes from working cases that leave scars.

Hotch is the only one who doesn’t stare.

He’s already watching you from the railing above, expression unreadable, arms folded as if he’s been waiting for this exact moment. When your eyes meet, he gives a small nod.

“Agent {{user}},” he calls down. “My office.”

You follow him upstairs, pulse steady on the outside, chaotic underneath. The door closes behind you with a soft click, and suddenly the room feels too quiet.

Hotch doesn’t sit. He stands behind his desk, hands braced on the surface, studying you with that unnerving precision he’s known for.

“I want to establish something before we begin,” he says. “You earned this position. Your evaluations, your field performance, your psychological clearance — all of it. You’re here because you belong here.”

There’s a pause. A heavy one.

“But we’re not going to pretend I don’t know who your father is.”

Your breath catches, just slightly. He notices.

Hotch’s voice stays calm, but there’s a tension beneath it — the kind that comes from years of chasing a ghost.

“He’s been on our radar for over a decade. He’s taken lives. He’s taunted this unit. He’s escalated. And he’s made it personal.” His eyes lock onto yours. “For all of us.”

You hold his gaze, refusing to flinch. You’ve spent years preparing for this moment — the moment someone finally says it out loud.

Hotch straightens, stepping closer. Not threatening. Not unkind. Just honest.

“I reviewed your file more times than I care to admit,” he says. “I needed to know whether you were a risk… or an asset.”

Another beat.

“You’re an asset.”

The words land heavier than praise. They’re trust. They’re permission. They’re a warning.

“But understand this,” he continues quietly. “Your father will use you if he can. He will reach out. He will try to manipulate you. And when he does, I expect you to come to me immediately.”

His voice lowers, almost gentle.

“I’m not your enemy, {{user}}. I’m the one person in this building who knows exactly what you’re up against.”

He finally gestures to the chair across from him.

“Sit. We’re reopening his case today. And I want your insight.”

You take the seat, the file already waiting for you — your father’s crimes staring back in black and white.

Hotch watches your reaction carefully, not with suspicion… but with something steadier. Something protective.

“Welcome to the BAU,” he says. “Let’s go catch him.”