A Love Like No Other - Aaron Hotchner

Into the Abyss

The world was black and suffocating, an endless void where my thoughts echoed, mingling with the darkness. The first thing i noticed as i started to regain consciousness was the coldness - a deep, bone-chilling cold that seeped through my clothes and settled into my skin. My head was throbbing, a dull ache at the base of my skull where i had been struck. As i slowly opened my eyes, the world swam into focus - dim and shadowed, lit only by a single, flickering lightbulb hanging from the ceiling.

I was sitting on the floor, my back against a wall, my hands bound behind me. I tugged at the restraints, feeling the coarse rope dig into my wrists. Panic began to rise, sharp and hot, but i forced it down, breathing deeply through my nose. This was just like every nightmare i had ever tried to outrun. The room smelled like mildew and rust, and i could hear the faint drip of water somewhere behind me, like a leaky pipe that no one cared to fix.

I tried to focus, to push through the haze in my mind. The last thing i remembered was chasing the shadowed figure through the warehouse, ignoring Hotch's voice as he called after me. The figure had disappeared, and then... darkness. And now, i was here, wherever "here" was.

My first instinct was to scream, to call for help, but i knew better. Whoever had brought me here didn't want to be found, and i couldn't risk making things worse. I had to keep my head clear, think through my options. I mentally ran through the team, imagining what they would do in this situation - what Hotch would do.

Hotch.

My chest tightened with the memory of his voice calling my name, the fear and urgency in it. I had been so reckless, charging ahead without backup, putting myself in danger. If he was here now, he'd be furious. I almost laughed at the absurdity of worrying about his anger when i was tied up in a cold, dark room with no idea who was waiting on the other side of that door.

But i wasn't entirely helpless. I focused on the ropes, feeling for any give in the knots. They were tight - too tight - but i refused to give up. I pulled harder, ignoring the pain, channeling every ounce of frustration and fear into my struggle.

Footsteps echoed outside the door, a slow, deliberate cadence that sent a shiver down my spine. My breathing quickened as the footsteps approached, stopping just outside. There was a long, agonizing moment of silence before the door creaked open, the rusty hinges groaning in protest.

The man who stepped through was tall, his silhouette blocking out the dim light from the hallway. He took a step closer, and my stomach twisted when i recognized his face.

Kepler.

He smiled, a cold, calculating smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Emma Caldwell," he said, his voice smooth and eerily calm. "It's nice to finally meet you in person."

I forced myself to hold his gaze, fighting the urge to look away. Kepler's eyes were sharp and predatory, watching me like a hunter sizing up its prey. He stepped closer, and i could see the faint scars along his jawline, evidence of his own history of violence.

"You don't look scared," he remarked, almost as if he were disappointed. "I expected more from you."

"You must be disappointed a lot," i replied, my voice steady despite the fear thrumming through me. I wasn't going to let him see how terrified i was. He didn't deserve that satisfaction.

Kepler's smile widened, as if he found my defiance amusing. "Oh, you're exactly like he described," he said, his tone almost admiring. "Stubborn, resilient, always trying to keep your head above water."

He. My stepfather. It wasn't just an idle connection - Kepler had studied my stepfather's words, internalized them, and used them to create this grotesque imitation of his twisted ideology.