[Criminal Minds] years before love

Hotch followed Jones at a distance.

Jones was driving more and more out of the way, and Hotch sighed inwardly, although he was prepared that his address was not in the city, and he could understand where he needed to let himself relax.But in his experience, most junior field agents do not live too far away from their work place. Their work requires passion and love, and it is a very bad sign to want to escape.It was unusual, and he hoped wholeheartedly that the nerve-wracking agent hadn't been involved in anything irrevocable.

In any case, he was already about to lose the job.

Being discovered wasn't Hotch's biggest concern.At least, if it was him, asking to go home under the circumstances would not expect the FBI not to be watching.

Hotch stopped a few houses away, watching Jones enter, and slowly furrowed his eyebrows.House with garden, nicely decorated, large garage.But Hotch didn't see his wife.Normally, most wives would come out at the sound of a stop after their husband has been through such a... torture.

Hotch wondered if this was his real home.

For about half an hour, no one else showed up, and Hotch hesitated whether to get out of the car and check it out.

Jones went out, looked around, and walked over.

It's unlikely that foreign vehicles will appear in this kind of place at this time, and Jones is a law enforcement officer. Hotch is not surprised that he will find himself, but generally, they are not surprised by this kind of blatant, even somewhat protective surveillance. Usually turned a blind eye.

And Jones obviously didn't want to.

Hotch was a little nervous, one hand already on the gun, he hadn't forgotten that this man was not trustworthy.

The other party knocked on his glass.

"Jones, we just want to protect you." Hotch took a deep breath, trying to keep his tone calm.

Jones forced a smile. "Um, you don't seem to have introduced yourself, Agent?"

"Hotchner." Hotch quickly assessed his intentions.

"Want to come in and sit down?"

"Jones, is there anything else you want to tell me?" Hotch cast a wary glance at his house. "This isn't your house."

"Yes, no." Jones looked back in surprise in the direction he was looking in, as if a little confused, "Are we really going to talk on the street?"

Hotch shook his head, watched him for a moment, and finally got out of the car and followed him into the house.

Obviously, this is not his home.Looking luxurious and comfortable is definitely not something the FBI salary can afford, but Hotch has living examples around him, so this is not a reason for him to judge.

With a plethora of bar sets and couches, and certainly no sign of any long-term female presence, Hotch thinks this is some sort of hidden hangout.

"Why do you know this is not my home."

"This doesn't feel like a home." Hotch watched as he deftly pulled the bottle from the liquor cabinet, poured a glass, and walked over.

"To me...this is far more home than home." Jones handed him the glass, and took another from the table himself.

"This is your... secret base?" Hotch didn't touch the liquid in the glass.

"Just a place to relax." Jones swung the glass in his hand.

"Green didn't come here? Or are you lying to me."

"…" Jones looked at him and repeated, "It's just a place to relax."

He tilted his head back and took a sip of his drink. "Agent Hotchner, I really… hope he's saved. It's not going to be this, I know what you're feeling about this, but it's not like this, it's safe."

"Not anymore." Hotch just looked at him.

Jones raised his glass to him and smiled wryly, "Yeah, not anymore."

"Tell us all about it, Jones, you know very well that your peers are not stupid, they have already made their own conclusions. There is no point in everything you are hiding." Hotch didn't move, just said slowly and softly.

And Jones swung the alcohol in his hand again, but didn't answer immediately.

Hotch sighed and responded reluctantly, taking a small sip.

"…Agent Hotchner." Jones looked at him intently.

"Huh?" Hotch felt that he seemed to be dizzy, and he reached out to reach for the gun at his side.

"Why did you come here... I really didn't want to hurt you." Jones sighed, watching him finally collapse on the sofa, and whispered to himself.