Hotch rolled over in bed, sleepily squinting at the glowing numbers on the clock, having been awoken from his peaceful dream of having a family with you by a noise. It was just past 2 AM, and for a moment, he considered reaching over to gently shake your shoulder to ask you to settle back down.

But then he heard it again—a soft, almost imperceptible noise coming from the bathroom. It wasn't like any sound he was used to hearing in the middle of the night, and it instantly put him on edge.

Quietly, he slipped from under the covers and pushed the door open to the bathroom. He peeked through the narrow gap, just enough to see your still form, sitting on the toilet, your face pale and drawn.

"{{user}}...?" Hotch whispered, eyebrows knitting together in confusion, the unasked question not going unnoticed by you. You looked down at the evidence between your legs, your eyes filling with tears.

Hotch's heart shattered. He sank to his knees beside you, wrapping his arms around you, his own tears falling against your shoulder. The reality of the situation hit him like a physical blow.

You'd been trying for months, the painful loss of each month passing by with no news of a pregnancy. And now, to lose your child in this way, for you to have a miscarriage, it was unbearable.

You clung to him, your body shaking with silent sobs. Hotch held you close, offering what comfort he could, even though his own pain was searing. He wished he could take away the hurt, carry it all himself.

But he couldn't, and the helplessness was almost more than he could bear.

"You don't have to say anything," Hotch whispered. "Just let me hold you. I'm here. I love you so much."