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winterscaptain · 2 years

Text

ulterior motives.

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: thank you all so much for your patience and love while I was stuck! i have more ajf for you and we will continue to jump around while I work on the little roadblock in the season 11 arc. as always, it helps me write more when I hear from you! without further ado, here’s the internal affairs episode fic!

words: 7.9k content advisories: language, pregnancy, canon-typical violence, death, and discussion of sexual assault, alcohol use, alcohol mention, sex mention, use of a firearm, gun death, food consumption

summary: “i'm sure I've had my phone tapped for years, I don't think it's a crime against humanity they just ought to quit doing it, god damn it.” ― cornel west. december 2nd, 2015

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | taglist | what do you want to see next?

It’s late, and Aaron isn’t home yet. He usually calls.

He always calls.

You try his phone again. Straight to voicemail.

Jack is long asleep, leaving you to worry without sufficient distraction. Concern wasn’t the only thing keeping you up. Little Man introduced heartburn into his symptomatic arsenal and he was delivering.

Propping yourself up further in bed, you stare at your phone.

Where are you?

As if he knows you’re looking for him, your phone rings - a picture appearing on the screen. A favorite capture of yours, it was taken close to four years ago down at Dave’s lakehouse. He’s looking up into the trees, a little squint around his eyes and the suggestion of a smile on his lips.

Gorgeous.

It always makes you smile.

You answer. “Hey, love.”

“Hi, beautiful. What’s your evening about?”

“Just about headed to bed,” you reply. “Your son is misbehaving just by nature of his size, so I guess it’s not really his fault. Did you get everything done with Emily? I know there’s a regional thing going on.”

There's silence on the other end of the line.

“Aaron?”

“Hang on, honey.” There’s a strange color in his voice - trepidation, maybe, or concern. “I’ll call you back.”

But he doesn’t. Not even after ten minutes, then fifteen, then thirty. You flip your phone in your hand, feeling the smooth screen with every pass.

+++

Director Cochran meets Aaron at the entrance in the secure parking garage, leading him into the building. “Chief Hotchner, it’s good to see you.”

“You too, Director.” Aaron reaches out and shifts the flowers he bought you into his left elbow, offers a firm handshake. “Is there anything I should be concerned about?”

Cochran shakes his head. “Not at the moment. We just wanted to read you into a couple of things.” He pats Aaron’s shoulder in an almost-paternal gesture and leads him into the elevator.

“It couldn’t wait?”

Cochran shrugs. “You know us by now, Hotch. Why would we inconvenience ourselves with niceties? I will get you a vase and some water for those flowers though. Would hate for them to wilt while we chat.”

Unfortunately, Aaron knows exactly what he means. He doesn’t reply, but lets an amused huff tumble down his nose. When the elevator opens, he catches sight of a familiar face.

“While I appreciate the ride and the intrigue, you could have called.” Aaron can’t keep the tinge of irritation out of his tone as he’s led into the NSA executive lounge. It’s cozy - armchairs and low tables cluttering the room lit by two fireplaces and little else.

Deputy Director Axelrod stands. “I would have just called to set up a meeting, so I figured we’d skip a step. Plus, this is a little more comfortable than a parking garage.”

Aaron shakes his head, almost amused, and offers his hand. “Good to see you, sir.”

The men take a seat, and Axelrod can see Aaron is a little preoccupied.

“Can I get anything for you, Agent Hotchner?”

With a rueful sigh, Aaron admits, “I could use a phone. My wife is expecting me home and I’d imagine she’s fairly worried by now.”

“Ah, yes. Congratulations on the recent nuptials. How are mom and baby? And your older son?”

Something about the knowledge this man has of his family makes Aaron deeply uncomfortable, but that’s the clandestine agencies for you. While Axelrod is low on the list of people who could pose a threat, Aaron figures less is more.

“They’re well. My wife is due in March.”

Axelrod smiles. “Congratulations again.” He pauses. “How old is Jack now? Nine?”

“Ten. But you knew that.”

He opens his arms in a gesture of guilty surrender. “Now, then. Down to business. A joint NSA-DEA investigation into Libertad, the online illicit drug site, has gone south fast.”

“I heard about it.”

“Yeah, well,” Axelrod says, tipping his head. “One DEA undercover agent is now dead, two are missing.”

Aaron’s eyebrows rise. “Someone in the cartel made them?”

“It would appear so. I’d like your team to investigate.”

That is… strange, to say the least. Aaron’s head is already abuzz with possible repercussions, implications, and red flags. “Why us? Surely, the DEA’s got leads.”

“True,” Axelrod relents. “You and your team are better.”

And that’s even more suspicious.

Aaron calls him on his bluff. Needless to say, he’s a little more than eager to get home. His patience for bullshit and politics dwindles fast, these days.

Good thing he’s grown savvier.

“What do you really want?”

The look on Alexrod’s face says Aaron’s got him. “Look, someone gave up those agents. I have good reason to believe it was the assistant DEA director in charge of the operation, Bernard Graff.” Aaron’s eyebrows lower, a squint appearing at the corners of his eyes. Axelrod continues. “I need you to get the proof.”

“Why not go to the Office of Professional Responsibility?”

“It’ll raise some flags. Graff would suspect an internal affairs investigation. You’re already involved in the Darknet with Giuseppe Montolo, so you have the perfect cover.”

Aaron can’t deny Axelrod’s logic. There’s already a good enough excuse to put together a task force even without a possible mole, given the circumstances. Really, both Aaron and Emily decided it wasn't worth the political game to get anyone else involved in the Dirty Dozen debacle until it was absolutely necessary.

So let’s find out if it’s necessary.

“What makes you think it’s Graff?”

“He knows technical details beyond the scope of his job.”

If that were a crime the entire BAU would be under suspicion. With an internal smile reserved only for himself, his chin tips in understanding.

“And there’s a flash drive that never leaves his wrist. I think it has the access code to the Libertad servers.” As if he can read Aaron’s mind, see his trepidation, he continues. “I did you a favor once. Consider this repayment.”

Axelrod gestures behind him and some lackey brings him a burner phone.

He passes it to Aaron. “All outside numbers are blocked but we have some workarounds. Go ahead and give your wife a call on this phone. Yours will be up and working as soon as you leave the campus.”

Aaron returns the gesture with a tense smile, dialing your number. “Thanks.”

+++

You’re dozing a little bit, sitting up in bed, when your phone rings. The caller ID is blocked. You answer it anyway, prepared for the worst.

“This is Hotchner.”

“Hi, baby.” There’s an apology in his voice, his tone quiet.

You heave a sigh of relief. “Where are you? What happened? When are you coming home?”

There’s a second of silence on the other side of the phone. He answers you after a moment. “I can’t tell you where I am right now or what I’m here for, but I am safe and I will be home soon.”

A memory pops into your head, one of staring at him, in bed, after your first night sharing a bed (in the biblical sense).

“And while I may have to keep things from you, I promise I will never fabricate a reality outside of the truth ever again. If you ask me a question I can’t answer, I will tell you as much. If you ask me if what I communicated is all the information I have, I will tell you that, too.” He huffs something that’s almost a laugh. “I will be as forthcoming as possible about the things I cannot be forthcoming about.”

It brings a smile to your face, soothes your anxiety.

“Okay. I mean, I tried your phone, but -”

“It won’t go through here.” He pauses. “I’m so sorry honey. I didn’t mean to worry you. I wasn’t able to call until now.”

“It’s alright, Aaron.” You mean it. “I’m just glad you’re safe.”

+++

As promised, Aaron returns home within the hour. You’re still awake.

When he finds you in the bedroom, he immediately joins you on the bed, still suited, sans-shoes. You take him in your arms and he rests his head on your chest, his hand falling on your belly.

“I’ll be able to read you all into the op tomorrow,” he says. “They’re running audits on BAU security clearances as we speak.”

You rake your fingers through his hair, disrupting the pomade holding it in place. Aaron sighs and somehow gets closer to you.

“Scale of one to ten?”

You can feel his smile. “Political, national security implication, difficulty, or insanity?”

“Let’s start with political.”

He hums. “Twelve.”

Yikes.

You established this system when he was promoted, in the interest of observing the security clearance gaps while keeping the how was your day conversations interesting.

To date, there’s never been anything over a nine on the political sliding scale of nightmarish repercussions.

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

You sigh. “Alright. National security?”

He wavers for a second. “Eight. Corruption isn’t inherently a threat, but this could get bad.” He taps your belly with his fingers. “Theoretically, of course.”

Everything is, of course, theoretical. In case anyone were to ask.

“True enough.”

“Anything else?” He asks. Apparently, this is a conversation consisting of two-word phrases. Often, you’ve come to find that’s just marriage.

You shake your head. “No, my love. I’m happy you’re home.”

He takes your hand and kisses your palm, pressing your hand to his cheek. Even though you watched him shave this morning, you can feel the stubble on his jaw. The exhaustion radiating from his every pore seems deeper than just the consequences of a long day. There’s something existential about it.

“Hey, Aaron?”

He cranes his neck, meeting your eyes.

“It’s gonna be okay, whatever it is.”

A little huff of laughter leaves him. “Thank you. I love you.”

“Love you more.”

He shakes his head. “Impossible.”

+++

Upon reaching the office a little early the following morning, Aaron closes himself up in Dave’s office while you tackle any emails that need your immediate attention. Dave and Aaron pass your desk on their way through the bullpen, but you don’t know where they’re going.

The floor is quiet, so you eventually get up and wander. It’s still early, so the traffic in the hallways is minimal.

You finally reach Penelope’s “apartments,” as she fondly calls her new room, and knock on the door.

“I’m halfway decent! Close the door behind you.”

With a little laugh, you follow instructions, leaning on her makeshift breakfast table. “You didn’t even know it was me.”

“It was either you, one of the handsome agents assigned to my detail or another equally gorgeous member of our team.” She shrugs, appearing from behind her privacy screen. Her fingers are fiddling with her earrings - getting them on, you imagine.

She wasn’t lying - she is only halfway decent. Her dress is open at the top, exposing the top of her adorable, lacy bra.

“I figured,” she continues, “you needed something to brighten your day.”

You let out another laugh. “Like your tits?”

She looks at you, wide-eyed and smiling. “Of course. Now can you hold this so I can pin it?” She gestures to a section of hair that seems to stubbornly slip through her fingers every time she tries to do something with it.

You’re more than happy to oblige, holding the locks with soft, gentle fingers. “Are you settling in okay?”

She shakes her head, but her face is obscured by her arm, blocking your view of the mirror. “I’d rather not get settled in. This will be done soon and it'll make it all that much harder to pack.”

“Ah.”

You can’t help but feel a little bad. Her sunny optimism, you’re sure, will only get her so far. Privately, you’re giving it another week before it really crashes and burns.

It’ll sink in soon.

“How’s little man doing?” She asks, turning. “Can you zip me up?”

“He’s good. Didn’t keep me up too much last night.” You slide the zipper up the middle of her back, linking the hook and eye at the top.

You can see her suggestive, almost wicked, smile in the mirror. “Why? Because boss man was busy doing that for him?”

“Penelope!”

“What?! It’s been like four years, I should think you’d be over the sex jokes by now.”

You sigh. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet,” she replies, turning around and tapping your nose. “You love me.”

“This much is true,” you concede.

She leaves you, picking up a pair of blue frames from her hanging tree of glasses. You hear voices down the hall - familiar ones - and you cross to the door, opening it a little.

Before you can step away, you hear, “I assume you want to keep this between us for now?”

You turn, giving the impression of disinterest as Dave and Aaron round the corner.

“Yeah,” you hear Aaron reply. He reaches the door, knocking twice on the frame.

“Garcia, are you ready?” He glances at you and you just smile with a little shake of your head.

“Uh, hold on. Yes.” She turns, showing off her outfit and frames. “See, the blue plays off the knit, here. It’s complementary, but it’s not matchy-matchy.”

“You’ve been here a week,” Dave says. “Have you thought about unpacking? It might make things a bit easier.”

You glance over at Dave, tipping your head just the barest amount.

Careful.

“I took my hotplate out ‘cause I was sick of the cafeteria food, but I’m not going to be here much longer ‘cause of this new case, huh? You guys are going into the belly of the beast. You’re gonna find out who’s targeting me. Am I right?” She toddles up to Hotch, her heels bringing the top of her eyeglass frames to his chin.

“Among other things,” Aaron replies drily.

“It’s the Darknet – that’s where all Montolo’s cronies live. If anyone can find the answer, sir, it’s you guys.” her face breaks into a wide grin. “I know you can.”

+++

“The NSA and the DEA are both involved,” Aaron says. “So we’ll be part of a joint task force. Go ahead, Garcia.”

Aaron sits beside Emily, who reviews the information in front of her with a furrowed brow and pinched mouth. You know this has everything to do with Aaron’s little escapade last night, but beyond that you know there’s a whole host of things you don’t know.

Given the smallest bit of the conversation you overheard this morning, you know you’re not alone.

“Okay.” Penelope stands and starts clicking through the photos. “Uh, three weeks ago undercover DEA Agent Mark Bowers disappeared. He was based in El Paso, but five days ago his body showed up in Ciudad Juarez, just across the Mexican border.”

“Ciudad Juarez is one of the most dangerous cities in the world,” Tara says.

Penelope nods. “Not only was Agent Bowers found strangled, but he also had another human face covering his own face.”

“Another... human... face?”

JJ’s confusion, marred with disgust, almost makes you laugh.

Yeah. This job broke my sense of humor.

You’re almost sorry about it.

“Yes,” Penelope confirms, her lip curled up. “I guess skinned or scalped. I don’t know what you call it, but I couldn’t put the pictures up here. You can see them on your own tablets.”

“It is typical for drug cartels to use a corpse to send a message,” Derek says.

“Yeah,” you add. “Body parts sent to family members, that kind of thing.”

JJ, recovered from her shock, notes, “A face on top of another face could easily mean he’s undercover or he’s two-faced.”

“Which is bad news for the two missing agents,” Emily replies. “They were both undercover.”

Penelope runs though the last known whereabouts of DEA agents John Portman and Sarah Miles. It looks grim. “All of these agents were investigating the Libertad drug cartel.”

“Well, if someone knew that they were undercover, then there has to be a mole on the inside.” Derek glances around the table.

“Well,” Aaron says. “We have to consider all possibilities. This cartel is in fact unique in a few ways.”

Something colors the underside of his tone. He replied just a little too quickly, looked around a little too fast. You[‘re not sure if anyone else at the table would have caught it, but to you it was as obvious as a neon sign.

There’s a mole. That’s our real assignment here.

Security clearances don’t mean much when you can read him as easily as the words in front of you.

“Yeah,” Penelope chirps, “it appeared on the Darknet after the Silk Road was shut down. It has an online and an on-the-ground component based in El Paso. It’s run by someone named George Washington.”

“An identity that can be assumed by different individuals.” Aaron supplies. You try to catch his eye, but it’s almost like he’s avoiding you on purpose.

“El Paso’s just across the Rio Grande from some of the worst drug violence there is.” Dave shrugs. “Not a bad place to set up.”

Tara nods. “Yeah, you’re right about that. I mean, it’d be so easy to fly under the radar when there’s bigger fish to fly right down the road.”

“All right,” Aaron says. “You’ll all head to El Paso with Prentiss and find out what happened to the missing agents. Except you.” He points to you. “We’ll run the cyber part of the investigation from here.”

“Me?”

Typically, Aaron doesn’t pair off with you in the interest of discretion. This time, he just nods, meaningfully meeting your eyes.

Okay, you reply with a look. I’ve got your back.

Dave stands, wishing you and Aaron a cryptic, “Happy hunting!” before leaving the room.

+++

You and Aaron take one of the bureau SUVs to the DEA headquarters. It’s just up the road in Springfield, but the drive feels longer than it should.

“Are you okay, Aaron?”

He tips his head. “I’m alright.”

You reach for his shoulder, your thumb passing over the fabric of his suit. “Is there something I should know?”

“Nothing you need to know,” he replies. “I’d rather have you safer than more informed, at the moment.”

“Ah.”

That makes all the sense in the world. At least you know you’re right - there’s something going on, something deeper than a few missing agents.

You take a little bit of a chance, but know there wouldn’t be any real consequences anyway, not in the relative safety of the car. “Is it the mole? Are we finding the mole?”

Aaron’s face doesn’t change, save for the small crease that appears in the corner of his eye. “Again, I’d rather you be safe than informed. You know what to look for and how to communicate your findings.” He reaches for your hand. “I brought you because…” He sighs. “Because I can read you the best. I can see what you see.”

You bring his knuckles to your lips, feeling the dry, warm skin against your mouth. “I love you.”

He glances at you with a small smile, neatly making his own point. I love you, too.

+++

The inside of DEA’s Cyber Division is far...sleeker than you would have imagined. You’re not sure why you pictured something that looked more like someone’s basement, but then of course, you know what they say about assumptions.

“You must be Agent Hotchner.” A seasoned, rugged-looking man approaches Aaron with a hand outstretched. You immediately notice the flashdrive on his wrist - securely wrapped in a paracord bracelet.

“Yes sir.”

The man directs his attention to you and you do your best to keep your expression neutral as he attempts to subtly size you up. You’re used to it by now. A pregnant FBI agent isn’t necessarily the first thing people expect.

Can’t imagine why.

“One of your colleagues, I presume?” The man asks, glancing at Aaron.

“Yes, sir. My wife - Agent Hotchner. She will be assisting me with the task force’s cooperative efforts.”

You step forward and take his hand.

“It’s a pleasure, ma’am. I’m Assistant DEA Director Bernard Graff. Welcome to the cyber war against drugs.” He leads you both further into the room. “We could always use the extra help, but I’m surprised the NSA pulled you into this. Aren’t you busy hunting psychopaths who cut up prostitutes or something?”

“Well, we have a case and there may be some crossover.”

Graff glances at Aaron. “You mean Giuseppe Montolo and the online hitmen?”

“Yes,” you reply. “We’re interested in whoever the successor to the Silk Road may be, and Libertad seems to fit the bill.”

“Well, if you ask me, the NSA’s got it easy. All they do is monitor and analyze. But when it comes to putting away the bad guys, you and I have to do all the dirty work. Isn’t that right?”

You move to reply with some kind of quip, but Aaron stops you with a finger on the outside of your hip. There’s some kind of commotion near one of the offices before a man throws the door open, making a beeline for the elevators.

“No, no.”

“It’s not related.” A woman says, chasing after him. He stops, turning.

“Are you kidding me? My best friend did not just have a hiking accident. I’m out of here.”

He continues to flee. She takes two more steps toward him but gives up. “Simon.”

Soon enough, the woman redirects, approaching you, then Aaron. Graff supplies the introductions.

“This is Adrienne Mitchell, our head Libertad intelligence specialist. Agents Hotchner and Hotchner from the BAU - apparently the FBI is doing couples counseling now.”

Ignoring the jab, you reach out, taking Adrienne’s hand. “Pleasure.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“The man who just left was our confidential informant Simon Kahn,” Graff explains.

Adrienne looks over her shoulder for a moment. “He just learned his friend died. I’ll give him some space, then we talk to him again.”

“Our specialists have been posting online as buyers and dealers…”

You can’t help but notice the searching, suspicious looks Adrienne keeps throwing your way. You know she’s trying to be subtle about it, but it’s your job to notice. There’s a bit of a staring contest between her and Aaron for a moment, both seeming to sus each other out in equal measure.

There’s some part of your brain that keeps your attention on Graff, nodding along with what you assume is a quasi-original thought. You’re only brought back fully when Adrienne shifts, adding to the conversation.

“He’s a Tor network relay operator for them. He wants out but claims he’s not being allowed to quit.”

“Is he being threatened?” You ask.

“Apparently,” Graff replies, “but we haven’t seen the evidence.”

Aaron’s turn. “Does he know who the head of the cartel is?”

“The real ID of George Washington?” He waits for confirmation and Aaron nods once. “No. But he does know the number two.”

“It took months to get him to come in. He was close to giving us a name, but now he’s scared again.”

You almost feel bad for Adrienne - she looks genuinely distressed.

Graff offers to set you up while Aaron requests some information for Penelope. One of the agents at a nearby desk shows you to a small office space while Graff and Mitchell hang back. You can’t really see - only a warped reflection in the glass shows them leaning toward each other, but it looks like they’re talking about you.

+++

Aaron steps into the office from a phone call with Emily.

“Anything good?”

He shakes his head. “They’re doing good work. There are a couple of solid leads in El Paso. It looks like the unsub had some skill and patience while removing the skin of the face and spent some time with the dead victims. That alone is a good start on the profile.”

You tip your head. “Good enough.”

+++

Graff shepherds you both into his office later in the evening, pouring some scotch.

Graff looks to you and you put one hand on your belly, patting twice, while the other holds up your water bottle. “I’m good with mine.”

He looks at Aaron.

“Oh.” Aaron shakes his head. “Thanks.”

“Axelrod said you were a real straight arrow,” Graff says. “Like Eliot Ness reborn.”

You smother a smile, flipping the straw on your water and pulling a few sips. Aaron shoots a somewhat playful glare in your direction before one of the photos on the wall catches his eye.

“Is that your dad?”

“Yeah. That’s my dad. He was in the DEA, too. His father, my grandpa, was a G-man. It makes you all wonder, doesn’t it?”

“About what?” You ask.

“If what we’re doing really matters? In the end, we’re all just government employees, aren’t we? After we’re gone, someone will take our place. New criminals replace the old.”

“Does it make you want to give it all up for a different life?”

The blood in your veins runs a little cooler at the implication of Aaron’s question. You suppress a shiver.

Graff takes the bait. “I know why you’re really here.”

You take a deep breath through your nose, waiting him out. It doesn’t escape your notice that Aaron has placed himself between you and Graff. You’re also out of the sightline from the main set of windows. Anyone looking in would only be able to see the two men.

The observation closes your throat a little. All Aaron ever wants to do is protect you.

And your sons.

It’s true. In Aaron’s mind, it’s his sole function. The work, the excitement, the politics, it’s all secondary. In some ways, he only continues to do this job, to run divisions that catch ‘the bad guys’ so the world is safer for you.

And his sons.

You swallow, focusing back.

Where were we? Right. Graff knows why we’re here.

Doubt it.

“Hornet.”

Told you.

“Most people aren’t aware there are multiple Darknets,” Graff continues. “Tor network is just one of them. There are over two million users on Tor, which is slowing it down, making it too vulnerable. A lot of operations are jumping ship to other darknets, like Hornet.” He pulls the flash drive from the computer, clipping it around his wrist again.

“You think Libertad will?” Aaron ask

“Probably. But I bet Giuseppe Montolo's hitmen have already moved. You're here because you think we have undercover access to a Hornet router.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Do you?”

“No,” Graff replies. You’re almost certain he forgot you were there. “We're still working on it. So your presence here is premature.”

Aaron’s phone rings. It’s Dave.

“Excuse me.” He picks up. “Yeah, Dave. Yeah, keep me posted. Thanks.” He hangs up. “My team has found evidence of a serial killer working in the El Paso area using the drug violence as a cover.”

We knew that.

What was that call really about? What does Dave know?

You keep your expression neutral, soft, as the thoughts pass through your head.

Graff doesn’t do so well in his weak attempt at neutrality. The irony is thick when he says, “Well, it's a good thing you're on this case, then, isn't it?”

+++

You lean against the glass, listening to Aaron’s side of Dave’s update. Given Aaron’s clipped, brief answers, it's likely Dave’s got good information for him.

“No,” Aaron says. “But something’s definitely wrong.”

You turn your head when the door to the bullpen opens, Graff at the handle. Aaron could probably see him through the glass as he approached.

“I’ll talk to you later.” Aaron hangs up and crosses past you, making a little lopsided triangle.

Graff looks at both of you in turn. “I thought you should know I'm having the ground investigation into Libertad suspended for now.”

“We understand,” you tell him. “I’m sure this is preferable to taking the risk of losing more agents in the field.”

Graff tips his head, looking at Aaron. “You know, I've been wondering. Instead of looking for Montolo's hitmen, have you tried looking for the Dirty Dozen?”

“Did Axelrod tell you about that?”

The space between the glass and the elevators shrinks all of a sudden - feeling much smaller under the blanket of tension Aaron just threw over the room.

“Aren't we all sharing information here?” Graff asks.

Before Aaron can reply, Adrienne throws the door open, almost running into one of Graff’s broad shoulders in her haste. “We got a problem. Simon Kahn, our C.I., is dead. His car exploded outside his apartment.” She swallows, her brows taking on that anxious bend you noticed earlier. “He was coming to meet me.”

+++

Aaron practically wrestles you into the elevator to head home later that night. Jack’s already asleep and Jess is crashed out in the guest-room-turned-nursery.

“I’ll stay here,” he says. “There’re a few more things I need to check out.”

You nod, reaching for him. He wraps his arms around you, getting as close as he can around your son. It’s getting harder by the day and you’re not even in the third trimester yet. “Be safe, please.”

He nods. “I will. Go home and get some rest.”

+++

You try to ignore the two black SUVs on either end of your block as you walk to the front door of your condo, unlocking it. A shadow on the far side of your porch startles you.

“Jesus, Anderson.” You put a hand to your chest. “You’re lucky Hotch is still at the office. Pretty sure he would have shot you if you gave him the chance.”

“Sorry.” Grant’s lips twist in a rueful smile. “It’s been quiet. Nobody in or out except Jess and Jack. You’re clear.”

You offer him a small smile. “Thanks.”

“Of course. I’ll leave it to the Marshals - they’ve got you covered on the perimeter.” He gives you a playful salute and hops the porch railing, landing on the grass. “Good night.”

“Good night, Grant. Give my love to Jude when you get home, okay?”

“I will. He’s looking forward to baseball next spring. He wants to take Jack to a few Nationals games when the Mets are in town.”

That brings a smile to your face. “I’m sure Jack would love that.”

+++

In all truth, Aaron doesn’t have anything to do. He is, of course, hypervigilant about your safety and has a vested interest in getting you home and under the protection of your family’s detail.

His efforts to guarantee his own safety?

Questionable, at best.

When most of the agents have cleared out for the evening, Aaron stops pretending to read the Libertad files. There are inconsistencies - ones that absolutely caught his attention on the third or fourth pass through.

Whoever’s orchestrating this is good. Too good.

He stands, closing the files.

“Done for the night?” Adrienne asks, looking up from her computer.

Aaron nods. “Almost.”

He’s outside, walking to his car, when his phone rings. The number is blocked and he instinctively looks around before answering it.

“This is Hotchner.”

“It's Graff. We need to talk. It's urgent. Meet me at the Raleigh Hotel bar. I'm heading there right now.”

Graff hangs up. Aaron calls you.

“Yeah?” You sound groggy.

“Sorry, baby. I just - um.” He runs a hand through his hair, glancing at his car. “I love you.”

“Are you okay?”

He nods, though you can’t see him. “Yeah. I, uh, I just wanted to tell you.”

“You’re getting in your car, aren’t you?”

How the hell…

“Yeah.” After New York, he occasionally has a bit of anxiety getting near the agency SUVs late at night, especially in the middle of a high-profile case.

“Alright. Let’s go through it. Anyone weird lurking around?”

Aaron looks, stepping back into one of the stoops. “No.”

“Find some cover and unlock it for me.”

The vision he has of you, sleepy and sitting up in bed, powers his next breath. He unlocks the car. Nothing happens.

“Clear.”

“Good. Alright.” You take a breath. “Good job. Let’s go to that driver’s side door.”

Aaron steps out from the eave and down to the street from the curb. He takes a look inside - nothing of note. “I’m trying the handle.”

“Okay.”

Your soft breath in his ear keeps him locked in. He reaches for the handle and opens the door.

Nothing.

He glances under the breaks. “Brakes are clean.”

You’re quiet, but he knows you’re there.

+++

It’s safe to say your heart is in your throat. You know exactly what he’s afraid of. You remember New York like it was last week - not too far, not too close.

But close enough.

You swallow your fear and give your next direction. His brain, you’re sure, is entirely made of fear and adrenaline right now. It’s your job to be his rational center.

It’d be unfortunate to hear him get blown up again, but if it brings him peace of mind, that’s enough.

+++

“Start ‘er up. Let’s get that engine warm.”

Aaron checks for a pressure plate under the driver’s seat before sitting down. “Graff called me,” he says. “Said it was urgent.”

“Unfortunately,” you tell him, “you’re being responsible so he’s going to have to wait.”

“Right.” Aaron puts the keys in the ignition, the door still open, and turns. The engine starts up no problem, no fanfare. “Alright. Unless anything’s on a timer, we’re good.”

He hears you sniff on the other end of the line, but he’s not sure if you’re crying or if you’re just handling some of the weird sinus pressure that’s plagued you through the second trimester.

“Are you okay?” He asks.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. Go to your meeting. Thank you for calling me. I’m glad we did that together.”

Aaron sighs. “Me too. Love you.”

“Love you more.”

+++

It feels like you’re asleep only moments when you get a call from Penelope.

“Hey, pumpkin. Sorry to wake you, but it looks like Assistant Director Graff has been found dead in his car.” You can hear the grimace in her voice.

You’re fully alert almost immediately. “Where’s Hotch?”

For some reason, ‘Hotch’ is the thing that leaves your mouth when you’re terrified - something for your therapist to deconstruct later, probably.

“He’s arriving on scene as we speak. He was at the Raleigh Hotel, safe and sound.”

You take a deep breath. “Thank you, Pen. Does he need me on scene?”

“No,” she replies. “He just knew you’d be pissed if you woke up to a news of a shooting and nobody told you.”

He’s got that right.

Even then, you’re already awake.

What the hell.

+++

“Aaron?”

“I’m headed to Springfield,” he says by way of reply.

You tip your head, your fingers tapping the steering wheel. “That’s convenient. Me too.”

He huffs. “I thought I told you to stay home.”

“You did. I’m done with that.” You rush to add, “It’s not Penelope’s fault. She told me to stay home, too. But I just - I can’t.”

Glancing in your rearview mirror, you spot your detail - a lone black hatchback trailing you about two cars back.

“Alright,” Aaron concedes. “I’ll meet you there.”

+++

You end up arriving at the same time. He takes you by the elbow and practically drags you to the elevator. He’s gentle, of course, but his sense of urgency is not to be overstated.

“What happened?”

“Someone shot Graff in his car. Staged the crime scene.” He shakes his head. “This is bad.”

The elevator opens and you let him out in front of you, his long legs taking only two steps before he reaches the door. You see Adrienne on the other side of the glass.

“We need to talk,” Aaron says.

Adrienne grabs her upholstered bag, that signature concern and anxiety written all over her face as she approaches you both and leans in. “Graff didn't kill himself.”

“We know,” you assure her. “The question is, who did?”

“The mole.”

“What do you know about a mole?” Aaron asks.

“Graff told me months ago. He's the one who alerted the NSA that an insider might be running Libertad.”

“And you and Graff thought it was one of us, that we came to tie up loose ends.”

“Yes,” she says. “But then Graff said it wasn't either of you, when you were genuinely surprised that Libertad might leave the Tor network.”

Your brow drops. “Do you have the flash drive?”

“He gave it to me for safekeeping. He said he found something new.”

Adrienne leads the way into Graff’s office, where Aaron takes the lead. He clicks through files, sees inconsistencies even more egregious than the ones he caught that afternoon.

“Graff was storing evidence against the mole,” Adrienne explains. “It looks like someone requested a police investigation file.”

Aaron clicks twice more, revealing a familiar seal. His voice is quiet. “Someone from the NSA.”

+++

Aaron sends you and Adrienne home, offering one of your agents to her. She refuses.

“No. I’m happy to accept the consequences of doing the right thing. You guys are in far greater danger than me.” She offers you something you think could be a smile if it wasn’t so tense. “Thanks for your help.” Looking up at Aaron, she adds, “Thanks for not being the mole.”

The half-surprised twitch of Aaron’s eyebrow gives him away. “You’re welcome. Anytime.”

Adrienne disappears into a cab that promptly disappears and you close yourself into the car, ready to drive home. “You going to confront Axelrod?”

Aaron nods. “It’s not that late. He’s still at the office.”

You check the clock, surprised to find that he’s right. It’s not even midnight.

Looking through the window at him, you tip your chin up. He meets you in the middle, pressing a soft, sweet kiss to your lips. “Get home safe.”

You hum. “Get in the car. I’m going with you.”

His brow pinches, but he doesn’t say anything. With a sigh, he rounds the front of the car and slides into the passenger seat.

+++

You wait near the doorway, in the hall, as Aaron gets clearance into the executive lounge. He’s full of confidence - entirely settled in Lawyer Mode.

Not for the first time, you can almost see that young prosecutor Haley used to talk about.

The door closes behind him. You wait.

About a minute later, your clearance comes through. The door opens for you as well, but you don’t go all the way in. You lurk, just inside the door, in the shadows. It’s advantageous for Aaron to have a witness.

“Do you have proof?” You hear Axelrod ask.

“Not beyond his dead body and the urgent call he made to me.”

“All right, so my hunch was off.”

Axelrod seems far too blasé for someone close to a treason accusation. Maybe he’s betting Aaron won’t go there.

I wouldn’t put money on that.

If you can bet on anything, it’s that Aaron will go there - no matter where ‘there’ is.

“Partly,” Aaron answers. “The head of Libertad is definitely an insider. And the evidence points to you.”

Axelrod scoffs. During his eyeroll, he catches sight of you. His eyes linger, a squint appearing.

“I'm going to give you one chance to come clean.” Aaron’s tone draws his attention again, taking the heat off of you. “If it is you, make no mistake, I will take you down.”

You shiver.

Aaron pulls a folded piece of paper from his inside pocket. “Do you recognize that number?”

“No,” Axelrod says. “But it's an NSA prefix.”

“Someone called Simon Kahn from this number a half an hour before he was killed.”

You can hear the prosecutorial bend in his tone, like he’s trying to convince a jury hiding behind the fireplace.

It never really leaves you, I guess. Even Aaron says law school scars for life.

“It could have come from any NSA office. It wasn't me.” Aaron has him on the defense now.

Good.

“A year ago,” Aaron says, unfolding the paper, “someone from the NSA requested a file transfer from the El Paso police department. It was about a serial killer investigation that started in Mexico.”

Axelrod takes it, reviewing the request. “This came from an onsite server. It means whoever requested this was in Fort Meade on December 2, 2014. I wasn't even in the country. I was in France at my niece's wedding.” He looks at Aaron, eyebrows raised. “Would you like to see the photos?”

“Who tipped you off about Graff?”

“My boss.” Axelrod’s eyes cast downward, his brows following suit. Aaron glances at you, checking in. You nod once.

Let’s do it, baby.

The small lift at the corner of his mouth speaks volumes.

The next afternoon finds you in the lounge again, a glass of water on the little table next to Aaron. After assurances from Axelrod that the Director would have limited contact and mobility, you both agreed to go home and get some sleep.

Well-earned.

As promised, Director Cochran breezes through the doorway for a ‘scheduled meeting’ with Axelrod. You stand as the door opens, placing yourself just off the wing of Aaron’s chair. Your intention is to haunt. It was Aaron’s idea, anyway.

When Cochran turns the corner to see you and Aaron, he pauses.

“Agent Hotchner. And...Agent Hotchner. This is a surprise.”

Aaron doesn’t move, doesn’t stand, doesn’t flinch. Even his fingers are still where they sit folded in his lap. “Director Cochran. Agent Prentiss’s team - my team - found the serial killer responsible for murdering the drug enforcement agents. His name is Jacob Dufour.”

“Excellent,” Cochran says, taking a seat. “I envy the work the BAU does. It must be so satisfying.”

Smug bastard. Didn’t even offer me a seat.

Aaron doesn’t buy into the informality. “Dufour wasn't working alone. He had a helpful partner putting the victims into his hunting zone.”

“Dufour didn't even know they were DEA agents,” you add.

“Who was the partner?” Cochran asks.

Aaron’s voice remains even, his head tilting ever so slightly in a move that reminds you, strangely, of Gideon when he set Reid in a checkmate. “You.”

“Me? And how is that possible?” Cochran’s questions are flat, serious. But then again, he is a politician. All directors are. It would take more than this to get a rise out of him.

Aaron stands. You sit, demurely placing yourself on the arm of Aaron’s recently vacated chair.

You watch, a soft smile on your face as you watch Aaron close in, that hawkish instinct seeming to draw him even taller, towering over Cochran in a chair that suddenly looks too small. “In 2011 there was a local investigation into a serial killer who was taking advantage of the drug violence. You requisitioned a file and figured out how the killer was operating.”

“I applaud your thoroughness, but this is really unwarranted -”

That’s enough.

Your turn. “There's five million dollars in Bitcoin in a Panamanian bank account that we have traced back to you.”

“Well,” he scoffs, “this is clearly a setup.” Axelrod appears with two armed agents flanking him. Cochran grasps at the apparent lifeline. “Axelrod, tell him. Tell him.”

Axelrod doesn't address the request. Instead, he directs the agents behind him. “Take him.”

“Do you mind if we borrow your pen?” You ask. It’s hardly a question. One of the agents, wearing gloves, picks up the pen from Cochran’s pocket. The agent unscrews the cap, revealing a USB drive.

“Something tells me the access codes to the Libertad servers are in there,” Aaron says, his voice without suggestion or inflection. He’s ice cold, down to his veins.

The agents take Cochran by the arms, but he resists. “Wait. Agent Hotchner -”

Aaron’s not having it. “You're under arrest on multiple counts of racketeering and conspiracy to murder a federal agent.”

“This is a mistake! You don't know what you're doing!”

The agents escort a struggling former director out of the lounge while the three of you look on.

Axelrod sighs, breaking the fresh silence of the room. “I could use a drink. How about you?”

“Sure.” Aaron tips his head

You press a kiss to Aaron’s cheek and shake Axelrod’s hand. “You boys have fun. I’m going home.”

Aaron scoffs. “Leaving me with what car?”

“You have a protection detail and the entire NSA fleet at your disposal. Right now, the mother of your child needs to prop her feet up.” You turn toward Axelrod. “Can you get my husband back to Quantico for me? He left his car there and he’s perfectly capable of driving himself home.”

He smiles, taking your hand and patting the back of it. “Of course, ma’am. Drive safe.”

“Thank you.”

You turn to leave, looking back just in time to hear Axelrod confess, “You know, Hotch, as long as you don't threaten to take me down again, I think we could actually be friends.”

+++

You rest at home with Jack as evening turns into night. Aaron finds himself in Penelope’s hideaway, his check-in sidetracked by a phone call with Dave.

“So Libertad's been completely shut down.”

“Yes,” Aaron replies. “But all of its competitors are stepping in as we speak.”

“How's Garcia doing?” Dave asks.

Aaron glances across the room, where Penelope pulls groceries out of a tote bag, compliments of Anderson. “She's disappointed she can't go home, but she's doing okay.”

“I'll bring her a new garden troll to cheer her up when I get back.” Aaron can hear the smile in Dave’s voice.

“That's a good idea. I'll talk to you soon.” When he hangs up, he looks at Penelope. “Am I right? You doing all right?”

She pauses. “Well, uh, I don't really have a choice, do I?”

“No.” It’s apologetic, empathetic. He’s not sure it’s an asset, but he intimately understands the pressure and stress of protective custody.

“Well, then, yes,” she chirps. “I am hunky-dory. I am.”

She begins to flutter, her voice filling with tears. “I'm, um... I'm gonna put some satin sheets on that, I'm gonna put a splash of color over there. I'm gonna put some tassels on that thing.”

As soon as she stops moving, she breaks, tears falling from her eyes. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”

“I know, it’s hard.” He stops her, his hands ghosting over her shoulders. “But it's not gonna be forever.”

“And... You got Cochran.” There’s her everlasting hope, breaking through her tears like sunshine.

That’s good.

“True.”

“And he lawyered up, but he could talk at some point?”

This much is true. “He could.” Aaron moves to leave, but Penelope gets his attention again.

“Hey, I'm gonna make myself a vegetarian omelet for dinner. Do you want one?”

“Well, uh…” He checks his phone. “Jack's already in bed, so... You have jalapeños?”

“Uh...Uh…” She breaks out into a small bit of incredulous laughter. “I'm sorry. Um, do--do I have ja -” She grabs a cutting board, already adorned with a knife and three jalapeño peppers. I want you to know, I have had a love affair with all things hot and spicy since I was like twelve.”

Aaron smiles, taking the board from her and getting to work.

+++

When you check your phone, you find a text message from Emily.

8:57pm Attachment: 1 Image

The photo - clearly taken without either party’s knowledge - reveals an adorable portrait of Penelope and Aaron cooking dinner together. Penelope stands at her hotplate, flipping something that looks like an omelet, while Aaron finely chops chives and jalapenos at the table.

Another text follows up from Emily.

8:58pm Don’t let him trick you into dessert - she has brownies and he had three.

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #tali writes fanfiction #tali talks cm #a joyful future #a joyful future fanfic #fem reader

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