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It was one of those things that you know you're doing when you do it, but can't stop yourself. She was aware of the constant comparative thoughts going through her head, she was aware it wasn't fair, not to either of them, but the fact that she'd look over at the others on the round table and see them doing the same was calming, encouraging even. Of course, that made her feel even more guilty.
At first, it was the way Emily carried herself. She thought it was strange, it wasn't as relaxed as Elle, it wasn't as unique. It was almost trained, deceivingly neutral. The week after, she had a problem with Emily's smile. Elle's smiles were rarer; not Hotch-rare, but not as frequent as Emily's. At some point during that week, JJ thought Emily's smiles weren't as real as Elle's, but stopped herself immediately. That's just going too far, she barely knew the woman.
Then, at the end of that month, she couldn't look into Emily's dark eyes without thinking about a lighter brown, swirls of hazel. Emily's eyes didn't give much away, Emily's eyes were sometimes unreadable. She missed the familiarity of knowing what Elle was thinking, of looking into her eyes in the sun, right before she pulled on her sunglasses, and knowing it'd be a good day. Now, she looked at Emily's dark, dark eyes, and she had no idea what would come next.
Emily spoke quiet Spanish to a little girl in the corner when JJ's thoughts raced to another time, in a small town, in another country, Elle's features happier than usual, despite the tragedy and horrors of that case, all because she was getting to speak a language she loved. Emily's face didn't brighten the same when she spoke Spanish, or Arabic, or French. Emily looked genuine in her concern for the little girl, but the spanish words leaving her lips were just means to an end.
She was being unfair, she knew, but at least she wasn't being overtly obvious about it. Poor Spence couldn't hide how he wished Elle was there instead of Emily, Derek was better, but he had moments he couldn't hide, when a particular joke didn't land with Emily the way it used to with Elle. Hotch clearly still didn't trust Emily, and Gideon was Gideon. Penelope was the only one who seemed interested in getting to know Emily without the ghost of another woman watching, which wasn't surprising at all, if not a little inspiring
She liked Emily, she was just sad that she came as a substitute instead of an additional. Things would certainly be different if that had been the case.
As weeks passed, JJ forced herself to interact with Emily genuinely, tried to not look for lighter eyes, curlier hair and rarer smiles. Emily clearly didn't plan to leave, Emily liked them, Emily tried to share more of herself with them even though it was clearly unnatural for her to do so.
Emily might've not carried herself as if she didn't have a care in the world, but she did like she could handle herself, she did like she could be relied on, she carried herself like she'd be prepared to carry others too, if it came down to it. Emily's smiles were frequent, but never fake, not like JJ's smiles to reporters and deputies and sheriffs which were merely stepping stones. Emily always smiled with fractions of truth, and JJ found herself testing the ways she could get her to smile bigger, with whole truths, just to see if she could. Emily's eyes were mysterious and dark and she could see herself when she looked into them. She didn't lose herself in them like she used to with Elle's; their sleek blackness often reflected JJ's face and, whenever she felt untethered, she looked in them, knowing she’d find herself again. Emily's face didn't brighten when she spoke Spanish, or Arabic, or French, but JJ found, with utter amazement, in one particular girls' night, they did brighten when she spoke Italian.
As months passed, JJ interacted with Emily easily, often picking her brain for hours, getting book recommendations she'd buy but never read, learning random facts about cats, particularly Sergio, that she'd never use because she was more of a dog person. As months passed, she found pleasure in knowing the smallest things about Emily, and appreciated seeing everybody around her realizing the same. Over time, Emily stopped being a replacement, she stopped being everything that Elle wasn't, and was just Emily. And that was enough.
Until it wasn't. Because at some point, Emily couldn't be contained anymore in the word "just" . Emily was so much, but never "just Emily" anymore. And JJ wanted more, and more, and more. She couldn't sit hours with Emily anymore, she couldn't get book recommendations she'd never read, or learn about Sergio's latest adventures, or just look at Emily without seeing a fucking multitude.
And she felt stupid, and idiotic and desperate. How could this be happening again , she'd ask herself, always in her head, because she hadn't yet the courage to say it out loud, not even when there was nobody else to listen.
Elle didn't want her. She had planned everything then, had waited until they had been out with Penelope and Derek, and she had known from experience that the pair of them would take on the dancefloor soon. So she had waited. And when they had left JJ and Elle at the table, JJ had taken a deep breath. She remembers holding the beer in front of her with both hands a little too tightly.
"You okay?" Elle had asked, light brown eyes darker than usual due to the lack of proper lighting at the bar.
"Yeah, I'm good." JJ had licked her lips, prepared herself, looked into Elle's eyes. "I wanted to ask you something."
Elle raised an eyebrow then, a twitch of her lips drew JJ's attention to them. She blinked, looked down at the beer in her hands, then back at Elle's attentive eyes.
"Would you go out with me?" In hindsight, she knows she was trying so hard not to freak out that she had ended up sounding too casual, too normal, and that's why Elle's reaction had been what it was.
"Sure, where do you wanna go?" Elle answered almost immediately, then tilted her head to Morgan and Garcia at the dance floor where they had been laughing loudly and gathering attention. "They're not leaving anytime soon, that's for sure. Wanna go grab a bite or something?"
JJ had opened her mouth, then closed it. She hadn't thought Elle knew what she’d meant, and her courage had already come to a climax in the form of that question, and at that point she felt it almost physically as it drained out of her, nothing she could do to stop it.
“Yeah, that’d be good.” She’d said, part of her still hoping Elle had understood, that this had not only been her acceptance, but also her move. But she hadn’t been able to fool herself as Elle slapped the table lightly and announced she’d tell Morgan and Garcia they were leaving.
JJ had stared at her hands, now slack, holding the beer in a loose grip. She sighed, shook her head to herself. She remembers feeling something then and it made her look over to her side. Elle was there, looking like she had just been hit by a truck, not quite yet having gotten to Derek and Garcia. She had looked at JJ with wide eyes and slightly parted lips. JJ stared back, wide eyes of her own because she knew . Elle had realized, mid-way to talk to Morgan and Garcia, what JJ had truly asked.
Elle blinked, then turned away from her, resuming her path as if nothing had happened. JJ watched as she quickly spoke to their two colleagues, watched as Penelope’s face fell a little and Morgan put a hand on her shoulder as if suddenly worried. Elle shook her head, denying something, but Morgan frowned and said something back. He kissed Penelope’s cheek, then, to JJ’s confusion, blew a kiss at her and quickly waved. She waved back, frowning. Penelope walked back to their table while Derek left the bar with Elle, a hand on her lower back as if supporting her.
Elle hadn’t looked back once.
“Hey, angel.” Penelope sat down across from her, fanning herself with one of her hands. “Poor thing, huh?” She nodded in the general direction of the bar’s exit. “It’s probably this heat making her queasy. Or, you know, the drinks.”
JJ couldn’t help herself, “She told you she was queasy?”
“She didn’t tell you? Said she wasn’t feeling well and was going home. My sensual dance partner, the gentleman he is, couldn’t let her go alone when she wasn’t feeling well. She was so pale, I thought she’d faint.”
“Right.” Was all JJ had managed to say.
Two days later, on Monday, Elle didn’t meet her eyes once. This isn’t quiet acceptance, this isn’t Elle making her move , JJ thought, this is plain rejection.
She couldn’t handle that kind of rejection again. She didn’t think she’d be able to handle rejection at all. Not from Emily.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
William LaMontagne Jr. is different. She’s dated boys who wanted to save the world, she’s dated girls who wanted to survive it, and she’s dated people who drifted, not really the savior nor the survivor, people who lost her in the process of losing themselves.
Will is stable. Despite the chaos that surrounded his life, he is stable. He doesn’t have illusions of saving the world, and has known from a young age that when tragedy hits, there’s not much one can do. He isn’t drifting aimlessly, trying to find a place in the world, because no matter where, he fits. He’s himself, and he accepts it, and that comes across in his acceptance of others. He doesn’t try to save her, he’s not just surviving another day, he’s not drifting. He’s New Orleans, and he's a Saints game on a sunday night, he’s a cold beer waiting for her after a hard case, he’s breakfast in bed on a random saturday. He’s so much more than she deserves, and yet her heart thumps red and angry, demanding more, arguing that
deserves
is a construct, and that she doesn’t get to decide it.
She likes Sunday Night Football, she likes bickering over a cold beer, she likes the way he makes eggs and thinks his coffee is more than decent. She even likes his accent, the way he sounds over the phone, the way he sounds in the morning and the way he sounds when it’s dark and they’re entangled in white sheets.
She thinks what she likes the most about Will, though, is that she
knows
he’s temporary.
That certainty is questioned almost as soon as she thinks it, just as she stares down at the three different pregnancy tests telling, screaming at her that Will is not temporary at all. One way or another, he’ll be in her life forever.
She thinks about her own father, thinks about the fact she doesn’t quite remember the details of his face, or the way he smiles. Thinks she probably wouldn’t recognize his voice if she heard it in passing. He left when she was 13, throwing accusing words at her mother’s apathy and taking Ros’ red soccer ball with him. He didn’t take anything of hers, choosing to instead give her a parting sad smile.
She’s had more time than she’d like to think it over, and still hasn’t quite found what she looks for. She doesn’t want her child to share their life between two states, doesn't want them to think either of their parents don’t care enough to be with them. She needs to give her child at least that, at least the possibility of two parents.
When she tells Will she’s pregnant over the phone, he reacts as expected. He’s happy, exhilarated, and, as predicted, asks her to marry him. She says no immediately, already having thought it over, explains to him that she wants to try this out, but one step at a time.
Against everything in her, though, against everything she believes and wants and needs, she asks him if he wants her to move to New Orleans. She’s gonna give this child two parents, even if she needs to move to fucking Louisiana.
Because he is a
good
man, because he loves her, because he knows her enough by now, he laughs. He laughs and tells her he’ll be in D.C. as soon as possible. She chuckles, overwhelmed with relief, and tells him she loves him. Because it’s true. Tells him she’s happy, she’s excited. Because it’s true.
When she hangs up their call, she closes her eyes. She sees Carrie Ortiz, sees Emily’s face across from her in the jet. You. Kids. I can see it, she’d said. Because it’s true.
(...)
Will was strapped with a bomb and Emily refused to leave his side, is what she’s told. Henry clings to her, feeling her distress, and even if he didn’t, she’d be the one to cling to him. After this day, she feels like she’ll never be able to let him out of her sight. But now, people are telling her that Will was strapped with a bomb and Emily refused to leave his side. She doesn’t know what she’s supposed to do with that information, she’s too tired to think, she’s too tired to run every thought through her usual filters, she’s too tired to think about anyone else besides Henry. But she pushes through and takes Henry to the hospital to see his dad.
A sigh of relief falls from her as she watches Will clinging to Henry. She moves to them, hugging them both. Her little family, only here because Emily Prentiss was born stubborn.
The morning after, both her and Will have the day off, and they choose to go out with Henry to the park. Her eyes only leave Henry’s running, laughing body because Will asks her to look at him.
“He’s safe. Chasing butterflies, you know how he gets.” Will says, but he can’t help his eyes from quickly trailing back to Henry. He breathes in, then looks at her again. “Last night, at the hospital, I was gonna ask you to marry me again.” He says, then chuckles at her face, which was probably not that inviting. “But I didn’t, because I knew you’d say no. And a man can only try so many times before it becomes a little undignified.”
“Will…”
“I wanna live my life, Jayje. I wanna do it with Henry, and you, and my job. I almost died yesterday, and I know this is the standard feeling after a near-death experience, but I never said I was special. I wanna live my life, and I want Henry, I want
you
to do the same.”
JJ frowns, “I don’t understand.”
“Whatever you felt last night when you saw me going inside that bank, whatever you felt when you knew I was about to be blown up–”
“Will...” She stops him, cringing at the possibility of him being hurt, of him dying. Of leaving her to explain to Henry why his daddy wasn’t coming home.
“I’m sorry.” He grabs her hand. “What you felt, it’s close to what I feel all the time about you. I think about it, all the ways something can happen to you, all the ways Henry would grow up without you.”
“You had a bomb strapped to your chest, Will, I think it’s a little different.” She says, not unkindly because she knows this is a delicate topic between them, has always been.
“It is, you’re right. My point is that I’m always a little terrified. Every time you call me from across the country, every time I hear someone from your team in the background calling for you. I’m a little terrified every time Henry asks for you and I have to make something up because he doesn’t understand when I tell him I don’t know where you are.”
“I know it’s not ideal, but I’m not sure how else to function. At least not yet. Maybe someday I’ll…”
He raises a hand, squeezes the other in his.
“Maybe someday is not enough for me anymore. And I know that it has never been enough for you. Maybe someday you’ll love me enough to marry me, maybe someday you’ll be home every night to tuck Henry in.”
“Will–” She stops him, an affronted frown on her face, heat on her cheeks half embarrassment, half anger.
“I’m not saying this because I wanna hurt ya, or because I’m angry. I’m saying this because I want to live, and I need you to let go of me so I can. Because if you don’t do it, I’ll just keep hanging around, wondering if maybe someday I’ll be enough for you.”
She’s crying before he finishes speaking, tears falling silently, her mouth closed in resignation. He squeezes her hand again, puts an arm around her. She rests her head on his shoulder.
“He’s gonna be okay, right?” She asks through her tears, watching as Henry falls on his butt while he’s distracted by the handful of dirt he’s got.
“He’s gonna be just fine. We’ll make sure of it.”
(...)
Two days later, on Monday, Emily doesn’t meet her eyes once. The parallel is so gut-wrenching that she only comes back to herself when she runs straight into Hotch.
“We have a case,” is all he says before going around her and leaving for the round table.
As she makes her way after him, slower than she should considering what he just said, she sees Emily through the blinds, already sitting down. She looks around, and it’s reminiscent of the first time she was there, taking everything in as if it were the first time.
Before coming to work, in the morning, she kissed a still asleep Henry on the forehead, took her to-go coffee from Will’s hands and just looked at him. He smiled at her softly, wished her a good day and, for the first time in a long while, didn’t kiss her goodbye. She smiled back and made her way to the front door, noticing bags and boxes filled with his stuff, just waiting on a new destination. Her eyes watered at the sight, and when she got into the car, she breathed in and out, thought about his earnest eyes when he said Henry would be fine. She stopped crying.
She spent the weekend agonizing over everything that could happen in the next few weeks, thinking about everything that could go wrong, every way Henry could be hurt by all the changes that would surely turn his life upside down. She didn’t know how they’d make it work, how they could take care of a three-year old and not live together.
By Sunday night, she was tired of driving herself insane, so she drew herself a bath. She soaked in there for god knows how long, trying to come up with at least one good thing that could come out of this. She drew circles around her mind, but her brain always came to the same conclusion no matter how she tried to pace around it: Emily.
They were in a good place, because they’ve never particularly been in a bad one. There was never a confrontation, never a revelation, never a
rejection.
Not like before. She never tried anything with Emily because experience taught her it was a terrible idea, experience taught her she was probably reading too much into things. Experience, though, also proved several times that Emily was not Elle. She couldn’t imagine asking Emily out and having her simply ignore her. Part of her couldn’t imagine asking Emily out at all. Especially fresh out the biggest break up of her life, one that would never be a true break, since Henry would forever tie her life with Will’s.
She couldn’t help it, though. The thought of Emily gave her the tiniest bit of hope, the smallest amount of excitement she needed to get out of the tub, clean up after herself and put on some pajamas while getting lost in the limbo that was Emily Prentiss. She’d almost forgotten how good, how devastating, how exhilarating it was to fantasize about the possibility of Emily. She had almost forgotten how it felt to
feel
this for someone. To hope to see their face, if only for a few seconds. To hear their voice. To hear them talking about The Sirens of Titans and other books she’d buy but never read, to hear about how cats can be ambidextrous, but many have a preferred paw.
So when she got to work that Monday, she
felt
something. Her hands were a little sweaty against her warm coffee cup, her foot drumming softly against the floor as she waited inside the elevator. She wondered if Emily would be
right there
when the door opened. She could see Emily passing through, stopping on her tracks when she heard the elevator doors open, tilting her head to look at JJ with dark, dark eyes. And as JJ walked out of the elevator and got closer to her, she’d be able to look properly into Emily’s eyes, she would even be able to see herself reflected in them and it would feel just like–
The elevator doors opened. There was nobody.
JJ blinked, shook her head, and walked into the bullpen. And thus began the game of ignoring, as Emily didn’t meet her eyes once, not even when JJ went to her side and greeted her. She got a “Hey” back, then something mumbled and a hasty exit. JJ didn’t try again.
It felt like rejection. It felt like rejection
again
. Logically, she knew it wasn’t, because Emily didn’t know how she felt. She didn’t wait for a perfect moment, for a dark corner table at a bar, to ask Emily out. None of that happened. Therefore, there is no rejection. Logically, she knew that. Logically, she knew Emily could just be having a bad day, Lord knows she was warranted one.
But
logically
didn’t matter much as she felt the bitter taste of disappointment carving a home on her walls, climbing them up to build a lump in her throat. It was her fault, really.
She’s
the one who chose to soak in her bathtub the night before,
she’s
the one who let her thoughts drift to Emily,
she’s
the one who let herself hope, feel the weight of freedom that’s usually made up of an overwhelming amount of possibilities.
And now, as she moves towards the round table and watches Emily look at everything but her, she has to deal with the consequences of having let herself want again.
(...)
The case took over most of her thoughts. It was a race against time, a child involved. Everything she feared, everything she hated about the job, personified in Jacob Sinior, six years old, from a small town in South Carolina. So she forgot about Emily, she forgot about Will. She didn’t forget about Henry. Saw him briefly in Jacob’s gray eyes when they managed to find him, alive and miraculously unharmed.
On the journey back to the D.C., in the jet, Emily sat as far away from her as possible. That’s when JJ truly left South Carolina, despite already being 40 minutes in the air.
JJ didn’t want to go home feeling like this. She hasn’t seen Henry in 32 hours, and she doesn’t want to talk to him, kiss him goodnight with an Emily shaped ghost haunting her thoughts. She needs to settle this, even if she knows, she
knows,
that it’ll feel like a rejection. It doesn’t make sense, because she doesn’t plan on asking Emily out while she asks her what the hell is the matter with her in the last 32 hours. Logically, she knows there will be no rejection, only a conversation. But
logically
didn’t matter much, she’s learned.
So they arrive back at Quantico, they settle everything back in its place, follow their usual post-case routine, debrief. Hotch congratulates them on a job well done, tells them to go get some rest and come back at 9 AM. There’s a look, then. Right after Hotch tells them when he wants them back, there’s a look, a glance really, between him and Emily.
Emily shakes her head subtly while she, too, gets up from her chair at the table. Hotch, just as subtly, nods and follows suit. JJ can’t help but tilt her head, interested. She’s caught soon, Hotch looking at her, noticing she’s witnessed their interaction. He looks back at Emily. Something in his face must be magical, because soon enough Emily is looking at her for the first time in who knows how many hours. How many days.
“I’ll leave you to it.” Hotch says and leaves. JJ hears the door close, but her eyes are still locked with Emily’s dark, dark ones. Emily’s on her feet, but JJ still hasn’t moved from her chair. With a sigh, Emily takes her seat again, her eyes leaving JJ’s.
“Clyde offered me a job, back at Interpol.” Emily says, finally. Their eyes meet again. JJ feels her nostrils flare as she inhales sharply.
There’s a beat before JJ opens her mouth.
“And you said yes.” She’s only been this sure of something a handful of times.
“I did.” Emily confirms what needed no confirmation. “I’m flying to London in the morning.”
That
she did not expect.
JJ could say so many things. She could make so many revelations. She could ask, she could insist, she could beg. She could offer Emily a ride to the airport. Could ask her
why
, could accuse her of leaving JJ alone when she needs her the most, when her family is falling apart and she doesn’t know what she’ll tell Henry. She could speak for their friends, ask Emily
whatever will Derek do without you
, or
how can you do this to Penelope,
or
why are you leaving Spence again
.
She knows, though, that she’ll never say what she truly means. She can circle around it, toss responsibility between Derek, and Penelope, and Spencer, but in no world JJ asks Emily to stay because she
wants
her. In no world, JJ isn’t a coward.
So she gets up, hands on the table for support, chair noisily scratching the floor. She lets herself have this final moment, lets herself look into Emily’s eyes one more time, to see herself in them, gather her strength.
“Have a good flight, Emily.”
She leaves before Emily can.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
She doesn’t tell Emily about her breakup with Will. It’s been three months since she left for London, but JJ doesn’t tell her a thing about Will. They keep in touch, despite their bland goodbye, they keep in touch. Penelope skypes her almost every two weeks, and sometimes drags JJ, Spence and Morgan to their call. Sometimes just JJ, which Penelope calls
girls’ skype;
they can’t call it
girls’ night
due to the time difference.
They speak about the gloomy weather in London, about Emily’s new coworkers, about their latest case, about Alex Blake and how well she seems to be adjusting, about Henry, but never about Will. It doesn’t come up, and JJ’s thankful that Penelope doesn’t seem to have said anything either. Probably because she thinks it’s still too fresh, that JJ can’t talk about it. JJ lets her.
They’re out, in
that
bar, since that’s the one they always have gone to. It’s a big table now, even though the amount of people hasn’t changed. Blake is there, but before her it had been Emily. Somehow, the table looks bigger. She supposes it’s related to how Emily made everything feel more intimate, so tables got smaller, distances got narrower, everything was more intense. Though, looking over at Spence talking to Blake enthusiastically, Morgan and Penelope laughing with Rossi, she thinks maybe she’s the only one who notices it. The only one who feels it.
Alex Blake was no Emily Prentiss, but JJ is older now, she’s seen enough things daily that her mind no longer has the willpower to waste on pointless comparison, as it did when Emily first arrived. Besides, Elle leaving was one thing. The way she left, after a silent rejection, a near death occasion and a questionable IA investigation felt like a natural next step, a clean break. Emily leaving feels like unfinished business. She never compares Alex Blake to Emily because part of her understands Blake isn’t a replacement, she’s an addition. Part of her hopes Emily will come back.
“Now, don’t start with that,” Derek's voice raises in excitement while he talks to Rossi. “I talked to Emily last week about it, she told me to make sure everybody stays away from your Assassin’s Spaghetti. Told me it can send the strongest soldier to the toilet.”
The mention of her name pulls JJ out of her thoughts.
“The spice is not for everyone, I will say. But a true strong soldier can handle Spaghetti All’assassina just fine. I myself have never had any trouble.” He shrugs his shoulders in mock humility and she, Derek and Penelope laugh. “How
is
Emily by the way? I haven’t spoken to her in a minute.”
“Oh, she’s just fine, I’ll tell you. Taken care of.” Derek says, a familiar smirk on his face. JJ stomach
drops.
“Hmm…” She hears Rossi chuckle vaguely. Penelope gasps.
“What is the significance of this, Derek Morgan?”
“Well, I don’t gossip, you know me.” Derek says, still smirking.
“I cannot
believe
my dark haired beauty didn’t say anything. Did she tell you anything?” Penelope looks over, clearly directing the question at JJ.
She swallows, fakes that one smile she perfected over the years in the media. “I haven’t heard a thing.” She widens her eyes a little bit, going for surprised and offended simultaneously. Garcia agrees with a scoff, crosses her arms over her chest.
“Unbelievable. The two of us are going to have words with her on the next girls’ skype!” She says and JJ just nods enthusiastically, agreeing immediately, but inside she’s panicking because she cannot want to talk to Emily about a possible partner any less. She would literally pay to not have to do it.
“Alright, alright,” Derek leans in, implicitly asking the three of them to do the same. Rossi seems to think it over before doing it, as if it wouldn’t be dignified to partake in this kind of gossip, but his curiosity wins over and soon the four of them have their heads closer together over the table, waiting. “You did not hear this from me, but the name’s Mark.”
Mark.
She almost preferred not to have a name to agonize over.
(...)
She was strangely aware of the time.
All those times the BAU rescued someone from a kidnapper, she always wondered how it probably felt like so much time passed for the victim, so long being tortured physically and mentally. However, that was not her experience. She knew when to stall, when to talk, when to cave and punch in the code, the encoded Blackbird message.
That kept her focused. That, and the fact that she saw Emily's face, so perfectly that she swore it was real, only for it to be Matt. She wonders how her brain has so successfully captured every single detail of Emily Prentiss’ face and was able to reproduce it whenever warranted.
She wonders how long it will take for Emily to show up, for real this time.
When she thought she couldn’t take it anymore, there she was. Her face beautifully drawn in worried lines, warm brown eyes focused only on her. For half a second, she thought she was hallucinating again, but she quickly realized it was real when Emily first spoke to her. There was no caress on her hair, her words weren’t as soft as they were in the hallucination, her eyes showed worry, but not adoration. Time had taught her that when something isn’t quite as good as her fantasies, it can only be real life.
There’s a rush of blood in her ears, her pulse gradually becoming stronger, and basic instinct took over when she ran after Michael Hastings. Next thing she knows, she’s looking at Emily again, hanging from her arm. She looks down, makes sure Hastings is gone, then back at Emily. She’s pulled up, and when she’s on solid ground again, she lets herself think; the first thing that comes to mind is to wonder how long she has before Emily inevitably leaves again.
Then, Henry. So she offers and takes some relieved hugs, pays her due to Matt and stops him before he says something he might regret. After, she's off to see Henry, and Hotch insists on waiting for her outside her house to take her to the hospital. She thinks she doesn’t need it, genuinely, even more so after she relieves Ally, the babysitter who was understandably very worried, and has Henry in her arms babbling about how he wished she was there before so she could fix his broken plastic dinosaur. But, she goes to the hospital, and takes Henry. Hotch says something to the people in the front desk, then something else to the nurses, and then the doctor, and manages to come in with her, carrying Henry himself while the doctor asks to look over her injuries. Before she thinks of raising her shirt, she looks up at Hotch. He’d already turned away from her with Henry before JJ could ask him to.
She’s suddenly struck with gratitude for these people in her life, people who carry her son with care, people who don’t think anything of the fact that she was not where she said she was, years ago, people who take an Interpol jet from across the ocean to be there
just
in time. She’s struck with the need to thank them, to see them, spend time with the feeling of them around her, joking and laughing to remind themselves there’s still a reason to.
But she’s
tired.
She’s tired and all she wants is to lay down on her bed and cuddle up with Henry while he sleepily tells
Tiny T. Rex and the Impossible Hug
story by heart.
She’s all too aware, though, that if she doesn’t speak to Emily tonight, she’ll leave before JJ’s got the chance. The thought makes her start getting up from her hospital bed. Hotch gives her a look, but she knows he won’t say anything, at least not with Henry in his arms. He doesn’t need to, because next thing she knows, she’s looking at Emily and Will on the door. She doesn’t know which question, of all the hundreds swirling her mind at the moment, she should ask first.
Will approaches her first, giving her a hug and a kiss on the head. She hugs him back, appreciative of the familiarity, of the fact he’s here. They see each other every weekend now to trade Henry, they always end up talking about something or another, and she always ends up wondering how she got this lucky to have him in her life. She’s always known he’s a good man, she’s always known he’d be a good father, but he somehow exceeded all expectations and became a best friend.
Henry sees him, tired eyes squeezing with a smile, and raises his tiny arms in his direction. Will goes over to him, greets him quietly and picks him up from Hotch. Will nods at Hotch and then walks to the door, where Emily is. She watches Emily’s face light up as she talks to Henry in Will’s arms, her boy giggling at something Emily says. JJ almost feels herself melt at the sight and Hotch has to call her name twice to get her attention.
“You’ll stay at home for the next week,” Hotch starts after she looks at him, and she raises an eyebrow at him. “You heard the doctor, he told you two weeks. I know better than to expect you to follow through with that, so I need you to take at least one.”
JJ lets herself think it over, consider it. The one time she’s been away from work for more than a couple of days was after Henry was born. She remembers wishing she had more time with him, but she also remembers the relief it was coming back, doing something again, helping. She looks over at Henry, now sleeping on his father’s shoulders while he speaks to Emily. The week after would be Will’s week with Henry, but she knows he’ll insist for Henry to be with her, and she won’t argue.
“Alright.” She says. Hotch nods, serious as always.
“Take care of yourself, JJ.”
“Thank you.”
As Hotch turns to leave, she doesn’t see Emily. Will’s looking over at something in the distance, then moves out of the doorway so Hotch can go out. They exchange good nights, then Hotch is out.
“Where’s Emily?” She asks, sitting up more, trying to look over Will’s shoulder. Will turns to her, a frown on his face as he rubs a sleeping Henry’s back.
“You didn’t tell her we broke up. It’s been almost two years, Jayje.”
JJ opens her mouth, closes again. “You told her?” She almost whispers.
“She asked about Henry, I assumed she was asking how he was handling going between a house and an apartment every week. Why didn’t you tell her?” Will’s tone implies he already knows, so JJ keeps her mouth shut. Will sighs, shakes his head. “I think she’s going back to London right now. You should take your chances.”
“Like you said,” Her voice broke slightly. She clears her throat. “Like you said, she’s leaving.”
“You can make her stay.”
“I…” She couldn’t make Emily stay, she wanted to make him understand that. She was here, on a hospital bed, and Emily didn’t stay. Emily didn’t say goodbye, Emily preferred to leave. She thought she was done with comparisons, but yet again it hammers in her brain, can’t help but make the connection. Emily didn’t meet her eyes, didn’t tell her she was leaving, didn’t ask her if she was okay, she just
left.
How does one get into this situation twice? The universe must be laughing.
She looks at Henry, peaceful and unbothered with the universe. She wants that peace for a moment. She doesn’t want to think about Emily, or Hastings, or Askari, or anyone for that matter. She’s tired.
She’s tired.
“Just wanna go home, Will. Can you take me home?”
He sighs, as if disappointed in her. She doesn’t want that either. She just wants to rest.
“Alright, I’ll get the doctor.”
(...)
On her third day of mandatory leave, Penelope knocks on her door. It’s early in the morning, she hasn’t woken Henry up yet. He’s always liked his sleep.
“I’m making breakfast, you want something?” She asks, a spatula in her hand. Penelope sits on one of the kitchen counter’s stools.
“I came for one thing and one thing only,” Penelope announces dramatically, but then peers around over JJ’s shoulder. “But I wouldn’t be opposed to one of those avocado toasts.”
JJ smiles at her and gets a plate.
“What is this one thing you came for?” She asks as she places the plate on the counter. Penelope thanks her and takes an appreciative bite.
“Emily Prentiss had promised herself to have drinks and dinner with myself, my chocolate adonis and our resident genius. She
promised.
And guess what? She left with no explanation and left the three of us drinking alone.”
JJ can’t help but tighten her jaw, her eyes neutral. “That’s not the first promise she breaks.”
At Penelope’s gasp and widened eyes over her avocado toast, JJ sighs. That was unnecessary and mostly untrue. She’s a bit bitter, though. She’s had three days to go over everything that happened and she’s come to new conclusions since the night at the hospital. She knows better now, with her head cleared and her body rested.
“Now I know there’s something
definitely
wrong.” Penelope says, almost looking scared. “I don’t know what’s going on, Jayje! I mean, first you get kidnapped by people that came from freaking Afghanistan, which none of us had any idea you’ve ever been. Suddenly, Emily’s here, you two have some type of codeword only you two know about, and afterwards, when you’re safe, she’s all smiles and promises of a good night, sounds genuinely excited to catch up, says she’ll go by the hospital quickly to check on you and say goodbye, since she had to leave the next day, and then
poof!
She’s gone, and next thing I know I’m getting a text from her at midnight saying something about an emergency at the London office and she’ll talk to us later, and guess what, she still hasn’t talked to us, why? I don’t know, but part of me was sure you’d–”
“Pen, calm down.” JJ raises a placating hand. “She said that? She said she’d meet you guys after saying goodbye at the hospital?”
“Yes! She said that, then vanished.”
“Hm.”
“
Hm
?” Penelope’s eyes are still wide. “What does that mean?”
“I don’t know what it means, Pen.” It’s true, she doesn’t, but things are starting to take shape in her head, and she needs time to understand.
Penelope eventually says she needs to be in Quantico soon, so she leaves and JJ is left to her thoughts.
What she told Penelope might be true, she really doesn’t know what Emily means by her actions, but she can’t help but theorize. Part of her thinks maybe Emily knows about her feelings and is blowing her off, rejecting her. But she’s not the young woman who once saw future in Elle’s eyes. She’s a profiler now, she’s lived in a warzone, she’s faked someone’s death, she’s a mother.
Emily came running back to help her, Emily was making plans of drinks and dinner with the team, when suddenly she left. No, not suddenly,
she thinks,
Emily left right after speaking to Will. Logically, she knows there’s something there, something different. Emily can’t go from speaking to Will about Henry, to realizing she and Will have broken up over a year ago and deciding that’s all the information she needs to
leave.
That’s not
logical
behavior. Then again, when has
logically
ever worked when it came to Emily?
One thing she knows for sure, though. Suppose Emily took Will's revelation that she was the only one who didn't know about the break up as a confession, that Emily
somehow
figured out that JJ couldn't bring herself to tell Emily about Will because Emily was
different
, because you tell your friends about a breakup, but don’t tell potential more-than-friends because that would sound like a proposition.
If
Emily got all that from Will's words, JJ
knows
she wouldn't ignore her or leave without saying anything.
Emily might not feel the same way, Emily might even reject her, but she wouldn’t turn her back and leave after going to the hospital to say goodbye, to see with her own eyes that JJ was okay. If Emily knew JJ felt something for her, she would talk to her. JJ could see her gently explaining that she knew what JJ was thinking, but that she didn’t feel the same way, but she wouldn’t leave in silence. Emily wasn’t Elle, isn’t that the conclusion she drew after months of comparing the two of them when Emily first joined the team? Emily is
not
Elle.
Why did she run, then? Because that was it, wasn’t it? Emily didn’t
leave,
JJ realized, Emily
ran.
And to this day, she doesn’t know why Emily leaves, she doesn’t know why Emily chose to leave after saving Will from that bomb, but she does know why Emily runs. Emily runs to protect, Emily runs because Lauren Reynolds chases her, because Ian Doyle threatens her family, she runs because she’s always been a bit of a martyr. Emily runs to protect, and the stunt she just pulled feels a little too much like running.
What was it that Will said that set Emily up for running? She feels the sudden need to call him and ask him to dictate in detail everything that he said to Emily. That’s a little much, though. Besides, it’s 7AM.
She goes through her day thinking again and again, trying to understand, trying to make sense of it, make sense of Emily. It was physically tiring to her still recovering body, and she had a headache by the time evening came. She sat down with Henry after dinner and started coloring with him. After a while, she looked over and saw that Henry’s picture of SpongeBob was pink and blue and every other color except yellow. She stared down at the picture of the bird she chose from his many options and realized she painted it black.
She dropped the pencil and pinched the bridge of her nose, letting out a big sigh.
“You’re tired, mama?” Henry looks at her with a frown, his long hair falling over his face. She places the longer strands behind his ear and smiles at him.
“A little bit, baby.” A lot more than a little bit, to be honest. She was supposed to be resting, to be mindful of the quality time she spent with her son. Instead, she’s unconsciously coloring blackbirds and anxiously going over every interaction she’s ever had with Emily Prentiss.
After Henry is asleep, properly tucked in and recited
Tiny T. Rex and the Impossible Hug
for the hundredth time, JJ is still sitting at the table, thinking.
This is pathetic,
she tells herself, her head on her hands,
I need to figure this out
.
But, the only way she can
actually
decode this whole thing, decode
her
, is going straight to the source.
She stares down at her phone, almost wishing it would suddenly, senselessly, stop working. She needed this.
Just do it,
she tells herself. She dials Emily’s number and looks at it.
Do it.
She presses the button.
It rings six times, then…
“You’ve reached Emily Prentiss. I’m not available at the moment, please–”
JJ turns it off. Sighing, almost in relief, she stands up and goes to bed to force herself to sleep.
(...)
Two days later, she calls again, because time still hasn’t gotten the damn woman out of her mind.
After four rings, voicemail. JJ narrows her eyes, looks down at her phone, at Emily’s name.
Something’s up.
(...)
It’s her first day back at work, and she’s trying to keep up. They’re about to be called into the room to be briefed on a case in Massachusetts, when Derek’s phone rings in the bullpen. He answers it with a casual
Hey
and JJ gets a little lost in thought as she refills her coffee mug. She’s missed this place.
“...you know how it is, Princess.” JJ’s hand stills and so does the steady drip of coffee falling into her mug. She puts the coffee pot in place so carefully, so calmly, she almost scares herself a little bit. “Yeah, sure, we’ll talk more later, ok? I gotta go. We caught a bad one in Boston.” There’s a pause. “Wait, isn’t it like 10 PM there? What’you doing at the office?”
JJ needs no more information. She takes a sip of her coffee, cracks her neck, then walks to the briefing room. She passes Derek’s table and her eyes meet his right when he’s about to say something else on the phone, right when he’s about to say something to Emily. He widens his eyes only slightly, his eyebrows move. She only smiles sweetly at him and resumes her way.
She’s being avoided, clearly. And Derek knew the reason for it, clearly. She’s not about to ask him, she’s not about to give more space for miscommunication, misunderstandings, more space for more codes to be decoded. She’s done with this.
When she gets to the briefing room, only Garcia is there, preparing the presentation.
“Pen, I need a favor.” She says.
“Of course, my dove.” Pen doesn’t look at her, too focused on something on her tablet. “What do you need?”
“I need a ticket to London. Next week.”
Penelope drops her tablet on the round table, finally looking up at JJ with the widest set of eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Penelope laughs, shakes her head. “I thought you said you needed a plane ticket to London next week.”
JJ chuckles and sits on the chair directly across from Penelope. “Did you speak to Emily in the last week or so?” She asks. Penelope blinks, thinking.
“Yeah, we spoke on the weekend about Sergio, I was thinking about getting him a girlfriend, but obviously, I couldn’t just assume, so I had to speak to Emily about it. Besides, what if he preferred a boyfriend, or even something else entirely, like a dog friend, or a turtle–”
“Pen,” JJ interrupts her. “I’ve called Emily twice in the last week. It went to voicemail both times and she’s made no attempts at
texting
me back, much less calling.”
“Oh.”
“And Derek is in the bullpen
right now
speaking to her.” Penelope, lacking any kind of subtlety, looks over JJ’s shoulder, through the open blinds, then suddenly down at the tablet with wide eyes. “He just looked right at you, didn’t he?”
“Yep.”
“She’s avoiding me, Pen.” She hears her own voice go the tiniest bit rougher.
“I won’t have that.”
Penelope inhales, squares her shoulders.
“I’ll get you everything you need.”
JJ grins. “Thank you.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
By the time Penelope texts her back with the address, she’s already in the taxi. She reads the address to the driver, he nods and off they go. She supposes her hair is a mess and her face probably has a permanent frown, after seven hours in a plane. She’s never missed the BAU jet as much as she did when she was contemplating what the hell she was doing with her life around the 5th hour in that commercial flight.
What does she expect to take away from all this, after all? So she confronts Emily about her running, then what? What if Emily ran because
Mark
asked her to come back home as soon as possible? What if she didn’t run at all and all the rationalization JJ’s put herself through in the last two weeks was just her bias? She hasn’t even gotten a hotel room, for god’s sake. Her flight back was in three days, because she was afraid she wouldn’t find Emily in her apartment building, so she needed more than a back to back flight, and the other earliest, cheapest date that made sense was three days later. She needed some place to stay, and she can’t exactly count on Emily’s goodwill to offer her couch, or a pillow or something, because what if she didn’t come back to her apartment after work today? Or, what if she didn’t come back to her apartment at all over the next three days? Damn, what if she moved in with
Mark
–
What the hell am I doing?
She asks herself, eyes closed, finger moving through her hair again.
“Are you doing alright there?” JJ raises her head, meets the driver’s eyes through the rearview mirror. He’s an older black man, somewhere in his sixties, with kind brown eyes and laugh lines around them.
“I’m okay, thank you.” She smiles at him, thankful for the distraction. She’s gonna drive herself crazy before she even gets to Emily’s neighborhood.
There’s a ping in her phone, she looks down and sees Garcia’s name.
Garcia:
Good luck, angel! It’s gonna be just fine, I know it!
She smiles again and sighs. She appreciates that Penelope has been so supportive, and unusually discreet, not asking many questions JJ surely hasn’t the answer yet. She doesn’t know what she told the team about JJ. She asked Hotch for some vacation days, he told her she had way too many and should make good use of them. She told him she’d be gone a week, nothing more, maybe less.
Three days in London, one day to fly back to DC and the rest to deal with the emotional consequences that would surely come from whatever it is she’s doing here.
The taxi came to a smooth halt in front of a stately apartment building nestled in the heart of central London. As the driver announced their arrival, JJ stepped out, her comfortable Nike shoes getting used to the cobblestone pavement. The late afternoon sun cast a warm, golden hue over the street, illuminating the intricate details of the architecture.
She paused, gazing upward at the building before her. It was a classic example of London's upper middle-class residences—elegant and imposing. The facade was a blend of traditional red brick and white stone, with large sash windows that hinted at spacious, well-lit interiors. Ornate wrought-iron balconies adorned each floor, and window boxes overflowed with vibrant flowers, adding a touch of color to the dignified exterior.
At the entrance, a polished brass plaque bore the name of the building, and a doorman in a smart uniform stood ready to assist residents and guests alike. As she continued to take in the building, her eyes followed the vertical lines, tracing the path to the top floor, where the penthouse windows most likely offered a panoramic view of the city. The building exuded a sense of history and permanence, a silent witness to the bustling life of London around it.
With a deep breath, she adjusted her black windbreaker and made her way towards the entrance, her anticipation mingling with the quiet confidence that the building's presence seemed to instill.
The doorman greeted her with a bit of an overdone smile, and opened the heavy wooden doors for her. She thanked him and made her way into the lobby, just as elegant as the exterior, but less imposing and more relaxing. To her right, a cozy nook beckoned, where a fireplace crackled softly in the corner. The rich, amber glow of the flames cast a warm, inviting light across the space.
Plush, leather couches in deep, earthy tones were arranged around the fireplace, providing a comfortable haven. A polished coffee table, adorned with neatly stacked magazines and a vase of fresh flowers, stood as the centerpiece.
The reception desk, manned by a courteous concierge, stood at the far end of the lobby, ready to assist with any inquiries. The overall effect was one of understated luxury, a perfect blend of warmth and sophistication that made one feel instantly at home.
She thought about talking to the concierge already, trying to gather some information, but resting by the fireplace would do her well, she wanted to be at least a little more presentable, with less of a permanent frown in her face when,
if,
Emily showed up. It was still 5:22 PM, London time, so she knew Emily would still be at the office, regardless of where she was going home to.
JJ settled into one of the leather couches by the fireplace, feeling the soft warmth of the flames caress her face. She tried to push thoughts of Emily from her mind, the anticipation of their impending meeting gnawing at her nerves. Determined to distract herself, she pulled a book from her bag and opened it to the marked page, crossing her legs and getting comfortable.
It was useless, though. The words seemed to blur together, refusing to make sense as her mind kept drifting back to what the hell she would say, how Emily would react, and the infinite possibilities of their encounter.
Each time her thoughts spiraled, the gentle crackling of the fire and the serene ambiance of the lobby would pull her back to the present moment. The glow of the fire, the soft hum of conversations, and the comforting scent of burning wood created a cocoon of calm that, albeit briefly, managed to soothe her restless mind. This cycle of anxious anticipation and fleeting tranquility continued as she waited, the warmth of the fireplace providing brief moments of respite from her swirling thoughts.
JJ's heart skipped a beat every time the lobby doors swung open for the last hour and a half, so it was ironic that when Emily actually walked in, she’d not notice until she heard her voice. Emily greeted the concierge with a warm smile, her dark brown eyes sparkling with recognition. JJ couldn't help but notice every detail—the way Emily's sleek, dark brown hair framed her face perfectly, her bangs just grazing her eyebrows. The cool, early March air had painted her cheeks with a soft, rosy hue and she wore a tailored navy blue coat, cinched at the waist, which accentuated her figure, to keep warm and a crisp white blouse peeked out from beneath her coat, and tailored trousers.
Emily's presence commanded attention, a quiet confidence radiating from her as she exchanged a few friendly words with the concierge. JJ's gaze lingered on the way Emily moved, the effortless grace and authority in each step. The warmth of the fireplace seemed to pale in comparison to the warmth spreading through her chest. She tried to steady her breathing, her fingers tightening around the book that now lay forgotten in her lap.
She blinked several times as the elevator door closed and Emily was out of sight. She got so distracted watching that she didn’t even notice Emily already going up to her apartment. She sprang to her feet, the book almost sliding completely off her lap to fall onto the rug, but she managed to catch it quickly, one of the pages crumpling under her thumb. She looked at the page number before it closed and realized she only read three pages in the last hour and a half. Reid would be honestly worried about her cognitive skills.
She tucked the book in her go-bag, the same one she used to travel from case to case, adjusted her windbreaker and ran a hand through her hair, this time consciously and not anxiety-induced, so she’d make sure it looked okay. She checked herself on the reflection of her black phone screen.
Meh, she’s seen me in much worse states.
She couldn’t pass the baffle gates that lead to the elevators without the concierge’s authorization, so she went up to talk to him.
“Good evening, miss.” He smiled as she approached. “What can I do for you?” He clearly knew that she’s been here for a long time.
“Hello, I’m visiting a friend. Emily Prentiss, she just passed through here.”
“Yes, of course. Your name, please?”
“Jennifer.”
“One minute.” He dropped a practiced hand to the intercom and pressed three buttons. “Hello again, Ms. Prentiss. A friend of yours here. Jennifer. Can I send her up?”
JJ tried to stop herself from clenching her jaw too hard as the silence stretched.
“Miss Prentiss?” JJ watched as he narrowed his eyes as if there was a problem, then his expression cleared. “Lovely, she’ll be up soon. Have a good evening.” He turned to look at JJ. “You can pass through there, press 8 in the elevator. She’s in 802.”
She thanked him and only breathed again when she was alone, behind the closed elevator doors. JJ leaned against the cool metal wall, her thoughts racing. She had hoped to catch Emily off guard, to see a glimpse of raw emotion before she could mask it with her practiced smile. She once thought of Emily’s smiles as truthful, albeit partially so. There was always something else she never said, always something more that kept JJ tethered to the possibility of discovery. Now, Emily knew she was coming, and the element of surprise was gone. Eight years of this, of unspoken words, of lingering possibility weighed heavily on her mind, and she’d have to drag it out from Emily’s barrier of fractionally true smiles and mysterious dark eyes.
The elevator chimed softly as it reached the eighth floor. JJ's pulse quickened. She walked down the hallway, her footsteps echoing in the quiet. Reaching apartment 802, she hesitated for a moment before knocking. The seconds stretched out interminably until the door finally opened.
Emily stood there, her eyes unreadable before her lips curved into a smile. She was still wearing her work clothes, sans coat and shoes. Her long sleeved white blouse was slightly more unbuttoned than JJ remembers seeing in the lobby and the cuffs were folded on her forearms.
"Hey!" she said warmly. JJ smiled back, because she just couldn’t help it.
“Hey back.”
Emily stepped aside to let her in, and as JJ crossed the threshold, she felt the tension coiling tighter within her. The apartment was warm and inviting, much like Emily herself, but the atmosphere crackled with the weight of
something.
JJ knew that it was probably just her and her unstable, two-week-built barrage of thoughts.
The spacious living room was bathed in the soft light of the evening, casting a glow over the tasteful decor. The walls were adorned with a mix of modern art and shelves lined with carefully curated books and artifacts that hinted at her interests and worldly experiences. A cream-colored sofa, complemented by deep green velvet armchairs, created an inviting seating area centered around a sleek dark wood coffee table.
There was a beautiful Persian rug underfoot, its intricate patterns adding a touch of timeless elegance to the modern space. In one corner, a grand piano stood gracefully, its polished surface reflecting the light from the large windows that overlooked the bustling city below.
To the left, the open-plan kitchen was a blend of functionality and style, with stainless steel appliances and marble countertops. A vase of fresh flowers sat on the island, their vibrant colors brightening the space. The scent of something subtly floral mixed with the faint aroma of coffee, creating a comforting and homely ambiance. JJ left her go-bag by the door, on the floor, stuffed her hands in her hoodie’s pocket.
With each passing moment, the weight of JJ's feelings grew more pronounced. She knew there was no way she could even try to mask her presence with the intention of simply catching up, so she needed to do something, she didn’t have the mental energy to attempt small talk, to tell her how beautiful she thought her decor was, how she was happy to see her. As she turned to Emily, who was watching her with an inscrutable expression, JJ sighed.
“Are you alright?” Emily asked, her face clouding slightly with concern, and JJ knew she was addressing the reason why they'd seen each other two weeks earlier.
“I’m fine, healing well.” JJ answered honestly. There was a large, ugly scar in her abdomen, still sensitive, still red on the edges, still looking like it would never truly go away. But she was fine. At least, that’s what she’d tell herrself every night in the mirror as she applied medically prescribed ointment over her skin, shivering as it ached.
“Good, I’m glad.” Emily smiled politely and JJ cringed because she
hated it.
Absolutely despised it. It’s a new feeling when it comes to Emily, and she finds herself hating
that
, too. Emily has done a lot of things that should potentially bother her, has hidden a lot under false pretenses, has lied and tricked and put JJ in a position where she had to lie and trick. And yet, it’s the fact that Emily has smiled at her like
that
that truly bothers her.
“You didn’t say goodbye.” JJ says, enjoying the warm flush she feels on her neck from the rush of anger at Emily, at herself for being unable to hate at least something in the list of questionable things Emily has done. “You went to the hospital and didn’t bother to say goodbye.”
Emily opens her mouth, blinks. She looks genuinely shocked at what JJ chose to say. She only slightly scrunched her face in confusion, a tiny line forming between her eyebrows, hiding beneath her bangs, and JJ has a sudden memory of Emily watching Reid talk about something very specific, the cracking of a code, the same expression on Emily's face as she pokes his cheek.
“He’s so lifelike.”
She remembers snorting, remembers thinking it was endearing, remembers remembering that moment every time Emily made a similar expression. Now, though, she just narrows her eyes and refocuses.
Emily seems to take her expression as a prompt to answer the unasked question.
“I didn’t want to bother you.” Emily voiced. JJ didn’t move. “I thought you’d want your rest. I just came around to see if you were okay.”
“Penelope told me she and the boys were waiting for you at the bar. Said you told them you’d meet them after checking on me.” She added.
“Yeah, a high profile case came in at Interpol, I even had to speak to my mother about it and–” JJ stopped listening at the mention of Elizabeth Prentiss. She’s only met the Ambassador once, but she knew enough of their frail relationship to know that Emily only mentioned her to soften JJ up, to cause some kind of reaction, to imply that Emily would never have ran to this case, would never have purposely put herself in a situation where she’d have to interact with her mother, if it wasn’t truly urgent. “–and really, you don’t wanna know the details, not from the case nor my call with my mother, both were just really disturbing–”
“Emily.” JJ raised a placating hand. Emily shuts up, then looks at her with big eyes, an uncomfortable closed mouth smile on her face.
“Yes?”
JJ was trying to decide what to ask, trying to decipher what words would break Emily, what tone would make her just tell the truth. What was it that she could say that would show her what she needed to see?
She took too long thinking, it seems, because next thing she knows Emily’s moving in her general direction, nodding at the kitchen.
“Why don’t I get you something to drink? I put some coffee on when I got here. Or maybe water? Wine? Whatever you want, I probably have.” Emily was about to gently maneuver around her to get to the kitchen, but JJ side stepped into her way at the last second, not letting her through. The move made them that much closer, and JJ realized they were exactly the same height, with Emily in socks and JJ in her Nikes. Emily raised her eyes briefly and met hers and JJ waited, her shoulders tense and body ready. It felt a bit like getting ready for a takedown, when her fingertips tingle and she feels all the more aware of the weight of her gun around her hips.
Emily doesn’t move, but her eyes dart to look at the kitchen as if it’s the most interesting page of her favorite Vonnegut novel. JJ still watches her face, trying to decode it.
“Emily,” she definitely doesn’t mean to sound that breathy, but purposely keeps her tone because she liked the way Emily’s nostrils flared. “I just want to understand.”
Emily’s eyes come back to hers at that. Something’s already changed, JJ can tell. This is what she was afraid of, this is what she wanted to put off, but coming to London was a way of forcing herself to go through with it, to accept change.
She loves Emily. She
loves
her. For longer than she cared to admit, more deeply than she dared to analyze. These past two years, though, have proved that JJ could deal, could move on with her life and keep Emily at arm’s length. She doesn’t know why Emily ran this last time, she doesn’t know why Emily leaves, but she
could
live without knowing. She
could.
Emily was an ocean away now, doesn’t look to be planning to come back to America just as much as she didn’t look like she planned to leave back then, when her mind still insisted on making fruitless comparisons between her and Elle, so she wouldn’t have to see Emily everyday and deal with all this. She could let go, could say she’s there to catch up, go home to Henry in three days and meet someone who she can love differently than she loved Elle, or Will, or Emily.
She could do all that, but she’s not going to because she doesn’t just
love
Emily, she
wants
her too. So much has changed in the eight years they’ve known each other, but
that
stayed the same. She has this dream sometimes, where she looks into still water, a bit like Narcissus, but it’s not herself she sees, it’s dark hair and dark eyes on some nights. On others, it’s a smile, a pair of lips, the curve of a neck. Always Emily’s.
It all comes down to the fact that JJ still has a chance to have this. And, sometimes, life only gives this, these dreams of still water, hallucinations while her body burns, the Tower’s midnight lights dancing on dark eyes, a gentle hand squeezing hers in the waiting room of a hospital. Sometimes life only gives the way Emily is looking at her right now, and sometimes that
has
to be enough.
“I don’t know what you want to understand, JJ.” Emily whispers back. “There was a case. I had to go.”
“I understand you had a case, Emily, what I don’t follow is why you couldn’t have said something to me before leaving, or even called Garcia or the boys as soon as you knew you had to leave instead of keeping them waiting.” She argued, her voice raising above their whispers.
“I told Garcia I was sorry about that, it just slipped my mind for a second. As soon as I got to the plane I called her, explained and apologized.” Emily defended herself, raising both hands mid-way. JJ chuckled, half out of frustration, half out of disbelief.
“Emily,” JJ stared at her, hoping to see something. “How crazy is it that you traveled all the way to DC, helped the team to find me, and the only person you’ve had a proper conversation with was
Will
?”
“That’s not true.” Emily immediately argued. At JJ’s raised eyebrow, she continued: “I talked to Henry, too.”
“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” JJ deadpanned. Emily cringed.
“Fair enough.”
“Look, I’m not gonna force you to say anything you don’t want to say, or explain anything you consider personal and not my business. But I came all the way here, and I’m not leaving without saying my piece.” JJ breathed in. “The truth is, I don’t know why you left, I don’t know exactly what Will told you and why you didn’t say goodbye. And maybe I came here on a whim, but regardless, I think I owe it to myself to admit that just the thought of having a chance with you made me cross an ocean.” JJ saw that tiny line between Emily’s eyebrows again, that confused, disbelieving tilt of her head. She forced herself to keep going, to get this out. “And I can’t stand here and act like you owe me some kind of explanation, without being honest myself. I don’t wanna hide behind misunderstandings and mixed signals and signs anymore. I want to be perfectly clear.”
Emily took a step back, putting more distance between them, looking honest to god terrified. JJ didn’t let that stop her. Emily is gonna hear her out and give her an answer. Even if it’s not the one she wants, even if it’s plain painful rejection, even if she goes through this again, they’re going to understand each other. She’s done with this.
“Emily, I love you. I love you as a friend and I
love
love you too. I have for a long time, and I tried to stop it. God, I can’t even tell you how many times I’ve tried. I’ve been through this before, and it’s never a good idea to get involved with someone you work with, and we were such
good
friends, and I didn’t wanna risk it. Then, Will came around, and you basically gave us your blessing, and I remember thinking it was for the best. I remember being a little relieved that you didn’t feel the same way, because what the hell would I do if you did?” JJ let out a bit of a self-deprecating chuckle and a sigh. She stared at Emily’s dark,
dark
eyes and couldn’t manage to decode them. The familiarity of that thought gave her comfort, though. Once, Emily’s mysterious eyes were a source of uncertainty and anxiety. She still finds them mysterious, but the feeling is laced with acceptance. “My point is, whatever happens, whatever you feel towards me or–or doesn’t feel, I wanna know. Because I
can’t
not know anymore.”
Emily just stared at her, slightly widened eyes, looking a little less terrified than before.
“I–I don’t know what…But what about–JJ, I’m not sure–”
JJ took a step forward, ignoring her heart hammering against her ribcage, took one of Emily’s hands in hers. It’s the first time they’ve touched since the night Emily saved her life. And before that, it had been more than a year. She looks down at their hands, the way Emily’s cold fingers immediately wrap around her hand like they were desperate for warmth. This was one more sign, one more petal on the imaginary flower she plays
loves me, loves me not
with. Emily welcomes her hand in hers, looks at her with those eyes and JJ plucks a petal and thinks
she loves me.
But she’s done with signs, she’s done with her imagination. She wants the real thing, whatever it is.
“Don’t tell me what you don’t know. Tell me what you do. It’s okay you’re not sure about this, but tell me what you
are
sure about.”
Emily looks down at their hands, much like she did, then back at JJ’s eyes and there’s something new there.
“I’m sure that I also
love
love you. I’m sure I can’t remember what it’s like not to want you.” Emily finally said. JJ breathed out a sigh of unadulterated relief, her hand squeezing, her thumb brushing against the inside of Emily’s wrist just enough to feel her pulse racing like she’s running a marathon as her eyes seem to study JJ’s face, settle on her lips for a second too long, then up again to make eye contact. “I’m sure I wanna be with you, but I’m
not
sure of everything else. You have to go home, and I don’t know–” But JJ was already shaking her head, pulling on Emily’s hand until they were merely inches apart, feeling each other breathe heavily.
“You’re sure that you love me, that you want me, that you wanna be with me, yeah?” Emily nods, her eyes already falling back to JJ’s lips, and she can’t help but follow suit. She’s always loved Emily’s lips. “Emily,” She calls. Emily looks up again, JJ smiles. “That’s more than enough for me.”
“Thank god.” Emily’s hand is on the back of her neck and she’s kissing her before JJ has the chance to do it herself.