Disclaimer: I am not making any money from this writing exercise, blah blah blah. Please don't sue. As usual, reviews are welcome and encouraged.
Forging Connections
By littlelights
Chapter One
Jareau: (to Det. LaMontagne) Well, despite what you may have heard, cell phones can be very good for your health.
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It had been a day of mix ups and miss matches, and Jennifer 'JJ' Jareau hadn't had the patience for either category. She was accustomed to order; neat file cabinets, well-reviewed paperwork, precise facts and the recognizable patterns of human behavior. She was also accustomed to giving orders, mainly because she could assert her will when it became important to organize the media, or to help acclimate the grief and panic stricken to the harsh realities of life.
She could also take orders, because her job required teamwork and hierarchy to produce top results. JJ might have felt restrained by the framework at the beginning, but today she could appreciate the stability of that system. It was only in her professional life that her day resembled any sense of order or accomplishment.
Her trip to the dry cleaners had resulted in dropping her order into a rather deep and muddy puddle. The grocery store was out of her brand of soy milk, and upon closer inspection of her hair, she could have sworn she saw grey strands sticking out near the top of her scalp.
In the crush of the grocery store, she had forgotten to purchase the frozen food entrees which constituted half her weekly dinner meals.
'It just keeps getting better,' she thought blankly as she unlocked her apartment and begrudgingly emptied the contents of her shopping bags.
As much as she tried to separate her job from her rapidly disappearing private life, JJ realized the details of cases drifted in her mind for weeks and sometimes months at a time.
Jason Gideon had cautioned during her first week on the job, "These things will stay with you, sometimes for years and subside. Then out of the blue, an image or a situation will hit you sideways, and you won't be able to let it go. It's a heavy burden, so you have to be aware of it."
Tonight was shaping up to be a mental re-run of work. And it made her more than a little despondent at the prospect of lying awake all night unable to turn her brain off.
The groceries were cleared away and the dishes in the sink were admonishing her for their state of being.
Great JJ, you're receiving guilt trips from inanimate objects. Fantastic.
Her cell phone began to ring halfway through the dish rinsing process. She almost wanted to let it go, to ignore whoever was waiting for her on the other end of the line. But her stubborn sense of commitment took over, and hastily tossing aside her yellow plastic dish gloves, JJ determinedly answered the phone on the fifth ring.
"Jareau speaking."
The short silence from the caller threatened to agitate her temperamental mood. There were moments she hated cell phones, and this was probably going to become one of them.
"Ms. Jareau," the voice responded. "It's William LaMontagne."
The mounting tension in her head lessened, and JJ exhaled. This was somewhat unexpected. Detective LaMontagne had acted as her group's liaison during the Jack the Ripper-esq case nearly a week ago. Lanky and somewhat somber, LaMontagne had initially behaved as most public officials in his position: well informed, proactive and fiercely protective of the citizens and his city. But he had set himself apart in the almost unobtrusive way he'd shown his interest.
It had taken him nearly a week, but he'd finally taken up the impulsive and hesitant invitation to call her.
"Hello," JJ began. "How are you, detective?"
There was an awkward silence from both sides. JJ sighed, not liking how the conversation was beginning. "I'm sorry, that came out wrong. You're probably not working and I haven't had the greatest day."
After a slight pause, LaMontagne composed his voice. "If this is a bad time…"
"No," JJ admonished. "It's not, this is fine. I've been thinking about work too much. But you already know all about that."
"Comes with the job," he admitted. The tone of his voice eased into something more natural.
They shared another pause.
"I was wondering if you'd call," JJ said after a moment. It was strange, but she could feel his mood shift, as if he was almost smiling. In her experience, LaMontagne kept a pretty straight face. She never really saw him crack so much as a grin the entire time they'd worked together. But she could have sworn he had almost smiled when he admittedly flirted with her the night they were working away from the police station.
"I figured you don't hand out your cards off the clock," he said.
"It's not a habit," JJ confessed. "And you're right, I don't normally, well ever pass out any information. About me, anyway."
Stop babbling. Stop trying to think. Just talk.
"I'm glad you made an exception."
The break in conversation felt charged, and JJ felt intrigued and a little apprehensive. She was having a conversation, or an impending conversation, due to her own actions.
"So, now that we're away from work, what can I call you?" He asked.
"JJ," she said, releasing a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "Everyone who knows me calls me JJ."
"JJ," he repeated, his accent played with the letters to the point where they almost changed meaning. "Childhood nickname?"
JJ dried her hands on the kitchen towel and settled herself comfortably on the couch. "My parents still call me Jennifer. But my friends and everyone at work uses JJ. I actually prefer it more than anything else. How about you? You're a junior so are you Bill or Billy or Junior?"
"Will," he responded. "My daddy never liked the name William. But he said mom insisted on the name. It confused the hell outta everyone. But he called me Billy, and to everyone else he was Bill."
"Two different combinations derived from the same name."
"Exactly."
"And you outgrew Billy."
"Yeah, it's a name for a twelve-year-old. I dropped it when I joined the force. But I was always Billy to my dad."
And the conversation flowed. Maybe it was because she was tired or desperate for some sort of distraction from her mental state, but they talked. About their families, airplane travel, restaurants and bad vacations. Strings of thought which wound around pieces of experiences and were explained in the strange and common place stories of their lives.
Bill LaMontagne intrigued her, and made her almost wary at the same time. He was polite, respective, and easy going. As their conversation lengthened, she felt as if she was falling into phone receiver. She was almost afraid of him, because he was a totally decent guy.
The kind of man you could fall for and never really recover.
When JJ glanced at the digital clock on her microwave, she was taken back at the time on the readout. 11:34 p.m. They'd been talking for three and a half hours. Her focus on the time left another gap in the conversation.
"JJ?"
"Sorry." She said. "I drifted off for a second. I didn't realize how late it is. Your phone bill is going to kill you this month."
"Don't worry about it." He replied. "You have to work in the morning?"
"Yes, I do." JJ said with a slight sigh.
They'd avoided talking about work all evening, and the introduction of it into conversation again made for a long pause between them. It was if neither of them wanted to speak. For the first time in a long time, JJ mused, she was enjoying something simple. Something normal women enjoy. Well, lucky women, anyway.
"Can I call you again?" He asked. "On Saturday when you're not so busy?"
It was an offer, she recognized. An opportunity to let herself out of his call and never have to speak with him again outside of work.
But if she allowed herself to use the exit he gave her, Jennifer Jareau knew she would regret it for the rest of her life.
"How about Friday night?" She countered. "I don't have anything going on. Well, other than domestic thrills like laundry."
"I'll call at seven thirty. Talk to you later, JJ."
"Goodnight, Bill."
JJ clicked the off button on her phone and stretched. She paddled into the bedroom, changed her clothes and brushed her teeth.
As she pulled back the covers, she realized that she wasn't thinking about work. Or about anything else at all, for that matter. Her mind was blissfully empty. And the stray thoughts that were growing were centered on Bill LaMontagne.
And that didn't disturb her sleep one bit.
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