@mindlaw | “⁂ / whoooops” (unit chief target practice)
they’d been NUMB with triumph, another case closed, another unsub identified (clayton willard price) and taken into custody. hotch was driving, emily beside him in the passenger seat of their SUV. they were following the local cruiser back to the station. he’d given her a silent SMILE as her hand found his for a brief and reassuring squeeze. he watches from the corner of his eye as she unstraps the velcro on her vest and discards it into the backseat beside his. he’d already traded the bulky protection for his black suit jacket before they’d left.
something unsettles aaron the moment he and emily step out out onto the asphalt of the police station parking lot. they’re near synchronized, doors closing in unison, eyes swiveling over to the uniform offloading the SADISTIC killer they’d been hunting for over a week. he’s quick to step around, eyes searching for what was catching his breath in his throat, it was price’s demeanor - it was TRIUMPHANT where he should read defeat. ❝something’s wrong...❞ ( there are bad days, and then there are days like hotch has only had a handful of in his life. days that take something IMPORTANT away from you. the events of those days were clouded with doubt. what if? if only? but on each occasion the reality was he had no CONTROL. if he’d been given the choice he would have traded himself away without a second thought. if only he could have saved them. hayley. jason. if he had been FAST enough, or SMART enough. -- it should have been him and it wasn’t ). emily hears him, eyes looking to him for clarification or direction, and that’s when he sees price over her shoulder, a SMILE reaching broad and toothy across his face. hotch swallows back his disgust, but it is in that moment he catches sight of the CUFFS. time slows to a crawl, and he still doesn’t have enough of it. the bastard had slipped a wrist out somehow, right hand free and the moment he registers the line of aaron’s sight he reaches for the uniform’s sidearm. today hotch was being given the CHOICE, a chance to make the call. he was finally in the right place at the right time and it’s just two paces to put the mass of his body between the GLOCK .22 and the woman he loves. maybe it wasn’t a choice at all, his body moving faster than conscious thought. he faces emily a tactical error he has no excuse for - aside from the need to see her. with his back to the gun he can only hear the shot he knows is coming. aaron swallows, tasting the IRON that’s suddenly coating his tongue. the impact had felt like a fire scorching through his chest and it knocks him forward a step, hand coming up but still just short of being able to reach her. SHOCK quickly dulls the burning pain and he can hear derek and dave shouting. voices booming with authority and too much fear. (it was good they were there, they would take care of her) he tries to swallow again, fighting back the choking sensation suddenly SUFFOCATING him. he keeps his eyes locked onto hers for as long as he can. maybe it’s seconds, maybe it’s less. there’s no air left in him, no voice to give to the words he desperately wants to share with her. all he can PRAY is that she reads the truth of everything in his gaze. all the love he had for her, the hope for their future, his trust that she’ll take care of their son. god, he hopes with everything left inside him that she sees it all before he has to leave.
