A Love Like No Other - Aaron Hotchner

Fractured Reflections

The day after Kepler's arrest, the precinct was bustling with activity. It was a mess of reports, debriefings, and quiet conversations in corners - each moment charged with the adrenaline that had barely worn off. The team seemed to move around me like clockwork, but i felt disconnected, as if i were watching everything happen from a distance.

Even with Kepler in custody, there was no celebration. We had Lily's statement, the forensic evidence, and a mountain of circumstantial connections. It was enough to put him away for good, but the shadow he cast hadn't fully dissipated. Maybe it never would.

My body ached from the physical strain of the last few days, but i couldn't stop replaying the arrest in my mind - every moment of the chase, every second of the struggle. It felt like a fragile victory, and there was a nagging voice in the back of my head, whispering that something was still wrong.

I sat in an empty conference room, staring at the cold coffee in my cup. The lights overhead buzzed softly, a reminder that the world was still turning, even when everything felt like it was on pause. I tried to ground myself in the mundane, but it wasn't working. All i could see were the ghosts of the past, faces of people we hadn't been able to save, and the reflection of my own failures staring back at me.

The door opened, and i tensed out of habit before recognizing Hotch's silhouette. He closed the door behind him, taking a moment before approaching the table. I straightened up, not wanting to seem as lost as i felt, but he had a way of seeing through the walls i tried to put up. He always did.

"Emma," he said, his voice as steady as ever. There was something about the way he said my name - it was never rushed, always patient, like he was giving me the time to figure out how i wanted to respond.

"Hotch," i replied, offering a small nod. I wasn't sure if he had come to check on me or to debrief, but either way, i appreciated the company.

He took a seat across from me, his dark eyes watching me with a mixture of curiosity and concern. "How are you holding up?" he asked, and it wasn't just a formality. He was genuinely asking.

"I'm fine," i said, but even as the words left my mouth, i knew they sounded hollow. I wasn't fine. I wasn't even close to fine, but admitting that felt like giving in to something i couldn't afford to acknowledge right now.

Hotch raised an eyebrow, his expression carefully neutral. "Fine," he repeated, and there was a hint of skepticism in his voice that made me want to laugh, even though there was nothing funny about this conversation.

I let out a heavy sigh, staring down at my cup. "I don't know," i admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I thought i'd feel better after we caught him. But i don't."

Hotch didn't respond right away. He let the silence linger, as if waiting for me to find the words on my own. I appreciated that more than i could say. It wasn't often that someone gave me the space to speak without expecting me to have all the answers.

"I keep thinking about Lily," i continued, my voice trembling slightly. "And about how close we came to losing her. And... about everything else. Everything i haven't dealt with."

I didn't need to spell out what i meant by "everything else." He knew. It was there in the way he looked at me, in the careful way he navigated these conversations - like he knew exactly where the fault lines were, and he was trying to avoid triggering another quake.

"Survivor's guilt can manifest in unexpected ways," Hotch said quietly. "It's not uncommon to question yourself or to feel like you should have done more, even when you did everything you could."

I nodded, trying to process what he was saying. It made sense, logically, but it didn't change the fact that i felt like i was walking through a minefield, never knowing when something from the past would blow up in my face.