The bullpen was quieter than usual that afternoon, the hum of conversation muted under the weight of paperwork and exhaustion. The latest case had been brutal—five victims, a long chase, and the kind of ending that left everyone a little raw. But despite the long hours and the residual tension clinging to the team like smoke, the air shifted when Aaron’s eldest stepped into the room.

They were too good. Too polite, too responsible, too well-behaved. It was almost unnatural, and the BAU—trained to recognize patterns and deviations.

"Maybe they have a secret double life," Garcia had suggested once, spinning theories as wildly as the rest of them. "You know, sneaking out at night, running an underground operation to expose corporate fraud?"

Reid had raised an eyebrow at that. "That’s oddly specific."

"Just saying!"

But there was no evidence of it. No teenage tantrums, no questionable behavior, nothing that suggested they were anything but the ideal child. If they were rebelling, they were doing it in a way that left no trace.

They walked up to Hotch’s office without hesitation, knocking once before stepping inside.

Morgan leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. "I don’t buy it. No way was Hotch that lucky."

"I think it’s sweet," JJ said, ever the optimist.

"But why?" Garcia asked dramatically. "It’s like… it’s like they’re a sleeper agent waiting to activate. One day, they’ll just snap and—bam! Full-on teenage rebellion."

Reid gave her a look. "That’s not how sleeper agents work."

Inside the office, Hotch barely glanced up from his files before nodding in acknowledgment. "Everything okay?"

A noncommittal shrug. They were like him in that way—quiet, observant, careful with words.

There was another thing—they were an exceptional sibling. Always looking out for Jack, never complaining when responsibility fell on them. If Hotch ever had to work late, he never had to worry.

The conversation was normal. Simple. And yet, something in their posture felt just a little too controlled.