A/N: all right, so it was requested that I write a companion piece to Five Simple Words. Here it is. This fic chronicles the same events of Five Simple Words, but this one's from Emily's POV. I found her POV much harder to write than JJ's… hope it works.
This is unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine
Disclaimer: I don' own them… if I did, we'd have been watching this OTP from the beginning.
bdd4evr, this one's for you. Thanks for the idea and for writing such a kick ass story!
"To compartmentalize is to separate into isolated compartments or categories." At least that is how the Merriam-Webster dictionary defines the word. You, well you would personally define it with one simple word: survival. You owe everything you are and everything you have to compartmentalizing. It is the only reason you managed to keep any semblance of sanity during your life, especially during your childhood.
People look at your life, your parents, and your wealth and assume you had it easy as a child. They assume that everything was handed to you. And it could have been, if you had just simply given up and accepted it. But what they don't know, what you don't tell them is that you hate everything about your upbringing: you hate your status, your wealth and especially your parents.
You had to fight to get where you are today. You had to fight every step of the way, and that is something that most people refuse to see when they find out your name is Prentiss. They can't see beyond that name to see who you are, and part of you is proud of that: it means you taught yourself well, you did your job and played the part perfectly. You think that if they can't see you, then they can't hurt you, and you thank the one skill you are fantastic at for that protection.
There's no way around the truth that by growing up a Prentiss, you had to learn to compartmentalize at a very young age. In fact, you can pinpoint exactly when, why and how you learned such a valuable skill. It's true that by compartmentalizing you gave the impression of being calm, cold, calculating, in a sense…unbreakable. But you also learned how to spin those impressions to give off an air of sophistication, poise, and perfection. You just wish you would have known that those two skills would eventually become a double-edged sword for you later on in life.
Growing up the daughter of an ambassador and powerful prosecutor left you with no real home life to mention. Your mother was always working, to save the world you would tell yourself in some ridiculous attempt at explaining why she never had time for you. And your father would be the doting husband and fearless attorney when he needed to be, which meant when in the media's eye. But once the cameras were off, he would head out for his late night and weekend rendezvous with his "clients", who would all be, conveniently enough, sexy young women who had no problem putting more stress on an already strained marriage.
These were your parents, each going their own way, living their own lives and leaving you in the company of the only actual parental figures you could remember, in the forms of countless nannies, maids and chefs your family hired: a different staff in each new city.
At first, it wasn't that hard to remember them all. But as years went on, they all blended into a nameless, faceless mob: one whose presence was rarely felt and never acknowledged by your parents, but was loved and admired by you. These were the people who raised you, and looking back, you should thank them for keeping you somewhat grounded all those years.
There was never any doubt in your mind that your home life was a broken, chaotic mess. But to the rest of the world, your family was perfect. At each of your mother's events, events you were required to attend, your parents would smile, laugh, act like a normal and loving couple. These events always went well because you all had roles to play: your mother the dutiful Ambassador and caring wife, your father the loving family man and influential attorney, and little Emily: the perfect daughter. These roles were yours to play, and play them you did, that is until you were all safely behind closed doors and out of the spotlight.
Then the yelling would begin, glasses would be thrown, doors would be slammed and that image of a perfect family would immediately shatter until the next political event in which it was required. Your parents hadn't even slept in the same room since before you could remember. Their marriage was a fraud, a charade played out for the media, and you were not to question it… ever.
You did question, just once, when you were younger and you got reprimanded severely for it. No, it was expected that you play your part to perfection and it took a while for you to memorize the script, but once that was done you were not to deviate from it. You often wonder how your parents would have reacted if you had rebelled against them and this life they had chosen for you. You often daydreamed that if you had rebelled then they would see what they were doing and suddenly become the parents you had always longed for. But then reality would come crashing back and you would sadly realize that the only way to gain your parents' affection was to play the part that was assigned. Your parents wanted perfection so it was perfection they would get.
Being the perfect daughter isn't as hard as some people think it is. You remember finding that out once you realized exactly how to compartmentalize, how to fit everything you were feeling, dreaming, hoping for, into nice neat little boxes. You would train yourself tirelessly until all of your emotions were packed neatly away, secured safely in the depths of your own mind, only allowed to see the light of day again if it was absolutely necessary. Once you mastered this skill, you focused your attention on building walls around your heart and soul, thinking that they would be able to protect the real Emily from becoming the Emily your parents demanded.
To further protect yourself, you slid a mask into place: a mask that showed whatever emotion you were expected to give. You would smile, frown, laugh, and scowl on command. The trick to it, you discovered, was to never let those emotions penetrate your walls, never let them reach your eyes or pull on your heartstrings. If they did, then they would threaten everything you had worked for, everything that was secured safely in your nice, neat boxes. Those emotions, if allowed in, would threaten who you were secretly allowing yourself to become, the Emily you wanted to be.
Compartmentalizing got you through your early childhood by protecting you from your parents and their expectations. Once you broke free from them at boarding school, it helped you focus on your studies and through the murky and rather awkward waters of teenage relationships. Your ability to hide your emotions away even landed you your dream job at the FBI, but no amount of compartmentalizing could save you from the predicament you were currently in.
Simply put: there is not a box big enough to contain the way you feel about a certain head of blond hair, the soulful blue eyes, or that radiating smile. There simply is no way to compartmentalize Jennifer Jareau, and you had been desperately trying to for the last three years.
There aren't that many times in your life where you can remember every emotion you were feeling at any exact moment: four, if you recall correctly. The first time was the first Christmas your parents were both absent for, opting to send you ridiculously expensive gifts you neither needed nor wanted instead of spending the holiday with you. You could remember the smell of the tree, fresh cinnamon buns and peppermint all blending together to make a unique flavor you equate to that specific holiday.
You also remember your utter disappointment, the feeling of your heart shattering into tiny little pieces, and the clarity with which you finally realized you weren't loved by your parents, if by any one at all. You had been six at the time and the only thing that saved you from yourself had been the house staff that rallied around you that year, almost making you forget how awful your parents could be… almost.
The second time was when your priest told you that if you got an abortion then you would no longer be a part of the church. The fear you were already experiencing because of the situation multiplied itself several times over, and in that moment you felt more abandoned and more alone than you had ever felt before. This time it wasn't just your parents or even your priest turning their backs on you: no, you saw it as your entire religion and your God deserting you, wanting nothing to do with you, no longer loving you.
You interpreted what the priest said as a threat that if you went through with the abortion, then God would leave you and you were going to burn in Hell. That may be true, but you knew you had to have the abortion; there was no other option.
You being pregnant did not fit into the image that your so-called family had worked so hard to construct. Not to mention that you couldn't have supported a child then, and you had sworn that when you did have kids you would love them like you hadn't been. You would be there for them, provide for them, support them and most importantly, you would love them: all things you had never felt growing up.
An Ambassador's daughter slated to attend Yale in a few short years would not have time to love a child, as they deserved to be loved. Matthew had been the one to save you this time. He made you feel safe and supported, loved in his own way, during this ordeal. He held you together all those years ago, and you never got to thank him properly for it.
The third time, well that is a moment you would rather forget. Your team had just discovered that Tobias Henkel was in fact the unsub and Hotch had sent JJ and Reid to interview him. Prior to this case, you knew that you were attracted to JJ, that you had feelings for her, feelings that you had masterfully stored away in your mind. But none of that would matter if you didn't get to that farm before it was too late. In the time it took your team to make it to that godforsaken farm you had imagined every possible scenario, all of which ended with you being too late to save her and that thought terrified you in ways you had never known before.
When she stepped from her hiding place in the barn, you felt a mix of different emotions: relief, worry and fear were all to be expected. But the one that made you stop short for just a second was the one that wiped out all the others, the one that then had you rushing to her side and trying to get her to focus on you, the one that was begging you to just wrap her in your arms and not let go until that fear was gone from her eyes, the one you recognized as love.
At the time you couldn't afford to dwell on that revelation: JJ was hurt and Reid was missing. It was your dedication to your job, to you team, to her that got you through that case and allowed you to box up the fact that you had apparently skipped over the whole falling part and instead had already fallen head over heels in love with your best friend.
Looking back, you realize that you shouldn't have been that surprised by it. You knew it was a possibility that you would fall for JJ, there was just so much about her, so many layers to her that it had been easy to fall for her, you realize. There was no way, however, that you could have prepared yourself for how quickly, how deeply, or how hard you fell for your blond colleague.
Since then it had been a struggle to see the blond everyday and know that you couldn't have her like you wanted her. But ever the perfect Prentiss, and now the perfect agent, you hid your feelings for JJ away, only allowing yourself to indulge in quick touches and light flirting: all things that could be attributed to a close friendship. But then your world turned upside down when JJ took you by surprise by, not only, accepting your advances, but she reciprocated as well and that freaked you out.
You knew you were in over your head at this point because JJ obviously didn't feel the same way about you… why would she? What could she have possibly seen in you? There was nothing there to love, in your opinion. Your own parents didn't even love you. What does that say about you when your own parents never hugged you or comforted you? If the people who brought you into this world couldn't even be bothered to fake feelings for their own flesh and blood, than how could someone as amazing as JJ feel something for you? She couldn't. Period. It wasn't possible.
You had to move on, let her go so you could go back to being just her friend and no longer the secret admirer. You had to because it was getting harder to control your emotions with each passing second. So when an opportunity presented itself, you did what you always do: you ran. You slammed your walls in place and all but physically shoved JJ into the arms of that bumbling idiot and poor excuse of a man known as Will LaMontagne.
Just thinking his name still makes your stomach lurch and threaten to bring its contents back into the light of day. But he was there, he was into JJ and JJ was at least crushing on him. You were terrified of your feelings for her and he...well, he was convenient. So instead of owning up to your feelings and telling her exactly how you felt about her, you defaulted to being a martyr—you were always giving up your life, your happiness, your sanity for someone else, so why should this be any different— and boxed up your feelings, wants and desires and pushed them together.
Not a day goes by that you don't regret it.
That day became moment number four when she actually took your advice and ran after him. You knew she would, you had bet on it, but a part of you wanted her to stay with you, to say that you were the one she wanted. You had desperately wanted JJ to see that you were lying; you wanted her to be one to see past your walls. She had been the only one you'd ever let all the way in, so you thought if anyone would see what you were really feeling, it would have been her. But you were wrong and instead of hearing everything you weren't saying, instead of seeing everything you're sure your eyes were screaming, instead of noticing all of this, she ran to him and effectively took your heart with her.
At that moment you felt absolutely nothing, which was something new. You had always been good at hiding your emotions, but this was different: you were numb. You were numb to everything; your mind had finally shut down, spontaneously combusted, short-circuited… whatever. You just know that there wasn't any way for you to compartmentalize this, so you didn't even try. You just let it all go numb and walked away because this time there was no one and nothing that could save you. You became a victim of one of your own compartments because no one even knew there was anything wrong to begin with.
You eventually felt something again when she announced her pregnancy. You pretended to be happy for her, but all you really felt was pain. You're not so sure that counts as actually feeling anything though. So when he proposed in New York, assumed she would accept, and she didn't turn him down you knew you had to pick yourself back up and put yourself back together, because she had accepted in some ways.
When she came back from maternity leave with Henry's birthstone on her right ring finger, you knew it might as well have been an engagement ring, that that's what Will had meant for it to be, because he had one too. You felt like everything you had fought to repair in yourself over the last few months had been ripped out again. But this time it hurt so much worse, because this time it felt so final.
You had lost her to someone you could easily compare to a mumbling crawfish and you knew it, so you didn't try to pick up the pieces this time. Instead you let your mind shut down again and went back to feeling numb because numb had become safe, comfortable, and familiar. You knew you couldn't keep putting yourself through this roller coaster of emotions she had you riding, so you shut yourself down and hid. That is until she came to find you.
When she did, you tried pushing her away, tried to keep her at arms length. You were cold to her, only spoke to her when it was necessary, pushed her as far from your life as you could, convincing yourself that she was happy with him, that she didn't care about you because she would have stayed with you if she did. You treated her like one of your mother's political acquaintances: you were polite, but that was it. You reverted back to the script you knew so well, you smiled when it was required, held your tongue when a sarcastic comment started to slip, and answered when spoken to… all of it very one dimensional and on the surface.
You were never going to let her back in even though she tried to reach out to you, to save you from yourself. You knew she could see the difference in you, but you were sure she didn't know what she had done to get thrust so harshly from your life. You still trusted her in the field and on the job, but you'd never trust her with your heart ever again, you'd never let her see you again. Well, that's what you had thought a few days ago at least.
Now… now was a different story. Now you were sitting at your desk, trying desperately to finish the paperwork from the last case, a case that had almost been too much for you. You sigh and rub at your eyes, trying to stop the exhaustion and swell of emotions that were trying to break through your carefully constructed mask. The way this case ended almost found you turning in your hardware on the spot. You were just glad that it had only been Morgan there with you when you tried to bring the unsub in. If she had been there, you would have lost it, you would have broken down in front of her and told her everything.
This case made you realize that no matter how you had tried to move on, no matter how often you tell yourself that you had, it was all a lie. As you held that man while he bled to death, you had a moment of clarity and in that moment you discovered you have always and will always love Jennifer Jareau.
x……x……x……x……x……x……x
It had been a serial rapist case in New Jersey where the unsub was raping and stabbing young, successful women after holding them for two days. You and Morgan had been about to bring the unsub in for questioning when the first victim's boyfriend, Erik Nelson, showed up with a gun and the intention of killing the man who had killed his girlfriend. You have no idea who fired first, but mere seconds later both the unsub and Erik were down and the last wisps of smoke were drifting slowly from the barrel of your gun, Morgan's too you were sure.
Morgan had immediately moved to secure the unsub while you kept your gun trained on him. Once Morgan was sure he was dead and his gun had been secured, you moved to Mr. Nelson's side and gently rolled him onto his back. Pain filled and slightly cloudy eyes met yours as you told him to hold on, that the paramedics would be here soon.
He didn't seem to hear you or register the fact that your hands were now pressed firmly against his stomach wound. Instead, he was focusing his energy on making his peace; his whispers not loud enough to reach beyond the small world you found yourselves in, where he was trying desperately to confess everything and you were desperately trying to keep his blood, his life essence, from seeping easily through your fingers. Too soft to reach beyond those boundaries, but loud enough to echo in your mind and etch themselves onto your soul.
You pulled him onto your lap so he was cradled against you, your hands still pressed to his wound, and you simply listened to a dying man's final words because it is all you could do at this point. You knew it. He knew it. And all he seemed to care about was one simple thing: "I never told her I loved her…I never said it…she didn't know…I never…"
He had repeated that until his eyes finally slid closed and you felt his body go limp.
That was a week ago, and that one moment in time, one moment in a life of so many…so small and yet so significant, that one moment would be forever burned into your brain where it would bother you until you did something about it. You knew you either had to act on it, or file it away into the box you use for the job where you would eventually learn how to live with such an event happening to you.
You flip through the case file again, stopping when you reach the photograph of Erik Nelson. You gently run your thumb over Erik's smiling face as his dieing words echo in your usually crowded mind. But the severity of those words, of that situation has quieted your mind, has pushed everything else from the forefront so it could take center stage until you resolved it. He had died regretting never telling his girlfriend how he felt, that he had loved her.
You look up at JJ's office and think about how easily you could become Erik Nelson, especially in this line of work. A raid could go wrong and you could die without ever telling the woman you love exactly how you feel about her, how you couldn't live without her no matter how hard you had tried to. If you keep all of this in one of your boxes, you know that you will end up like Erik Nelson, desperately whispering your biggest secret into the air as life slips from your body, trying to get it all out in the open before it was too late.
Closing the case file, you sigh again. You don't want to be like him, you don't want to have any regrets, not when it comes to the heart. This case had been the final straw, it had been the missing piece that finally obliterated the box you had been desperately trying, and epically failing, to keep JJ in. You toss the file back onto the pile on your desk and look once more at JJ's office. You refuse to end up like him, like a victim and the only way to prevent that is to tell JJ exactly how you feel.
You slowly get to your feet and take a deep breath before placing one foot in front of the other. You know you've held onto this for too long, you know its time to let it go, time to accept it and move on. You know that if you don't get this off of your chest then it will slowly kill what little part of you that's left, what little part she hasn't stolen, broken or ignored. You need to protect that little piece of you from this festering poison of a secret: you need to protect it, save it and then slowly begin to rebuild yourself upon it. The only way to do this, you imagine, is to expel the poison from you.
The poison is your love for the blond press liaison and the antidote is confessing it to her. Maybe once it's out in the open you can go back to being her friend and all of this won't hurt quite as badly. You stop outside her door, straighten your shirt, try in vain to rein in your emotions and nod once to assure yourself that this needs to be done before you reach up and knock tentatively on her door.
When her muffled response of "come in" reaches you, you quickly turn the knob on the door before you can talk yourself out of this. You push open the door and stop to look at her curiously for a second.
Her head is in her hands and several files are stacked in front of her. Her body language screams tension, frustration and defeat. You want to go over to her and just hug her because sitting like that makes her look too small and too vulnerable. You immediately cringe at the fact that even after all she's put you through, you still hate seeing her like this and want nothing more than to fix it. You hate the fact that you love her so much and there isn't a single thing you can do to stop it.
You clear your throat, step the rest of the way into her office and shut the door behind you, "JJ, do you have a minute?"
You despise how timid you sound. You wanted to do this with your head held high, but that doesn't seem to be happening. You notice how she freezes when she realizes it's you standing in her office. Slowly, her hands are lowered and she blinks at you to make sure you're actually standing there. The look of hurt, betrayal and anger that flashes through her eyes is what finally breaks your resolve, your confidence.
You didn't mean to come up here and break down in front of her, but that look in her eyes was just too much. Everything from the last three years comes rushing to the surface, threatening to consume you. Your instincts kick in and part of you tries desperately to rein it in, to control it, to keep the Prentiss mask securely in place. But the other part, the bigger and more pressing part, wants you to just let go and break down in front of the woman who means everything to you, who knows you better than anyone else.
She shifts in her chair and instantly the emotion in her eyes changes to compassion, sympathy, and worry as she subconsciously leans towards you as if she's trying to get closer to you.
"Em? What's wrong?"
The fact that she calls you Em does nothing to help the situation. She alone calls you that and it harshly reminds you of what the two of you had before you royally fucked it up and pushed her away. You bring your eyes back to hers and try to explain what's wrong, explain what brought you to her door in this state: so emotional and on the verge of a break down. You try to put everything into words, you really do. But how do you describe your love for her, your hatred of Will, your regret in pushing them together, your fear that you will end up like Erik Nelson… how do you put all of that into words?
Words were always her department, never yours. You've always been more a person of action, so that's what you do; you show her what's been slowly devouring you from the inside. You let all of these emotions out of their boxes, you let them consume you, pour out of you and hope somehow they will make their way to her.
She seems to understand the severity of the situation because she's up and moving without a second thought. She seems to understand that you're drowning in all of it, that you're losing yourself to your compartmentalizing and to this job. You pray she knows that you need her to save you, to pull you out of it and put you back together, because you can no longer do it yourself. You need her to do this for you, but you can't ask her to, you can't bring yourself to ask for her help: you can't do that to her because that in itself would mean failure and would break you completely.
She comes to a stop in front of you, her eyes never leaving yours and slowly reaches her hand out to touch your shoulder, "Em, sweetie, what's wrong?"
That term of endearment hits you like a punch to the gut because it makes your stomach flutter and your skin tingle in a good way and it just feels so goddamn right to hear her calling you that. But it hurts you because while she meant for it to comfort you, it simply reminded you of everything the two of you will never be, of what you will never have. You can't help it as you pull away from her hand and divert your gaze from hers in order to try and get some semblance of control back.
JJ respects your space by taking a step back and seems to understand that you need a few minutes to figure it out. So the two of you stand in an awkward and tense silence while you study the floor and she studies you. Part of you is surprised that JJ allows the silence to stretch out as long as it does before she attempts to break it by clearing her throat. You hear her but you aren't quite ready to fess up because all of this is starting to seem like a really bad idea.
You can feel her presence as she moves closer to you, where she pauses to get your reaction. When you remain motionless, she gently places two fingers under your chin and you try to suppress the tremor that runs down your spine due to the contact. She forces your eyes to meet hers, you didn't think you could feel anymore overwhelmed than you already were, but all of this once again becomes too much for you to handle.
It's too fast, too soon and too real. You're terrified of what JJ will say but on the same token, you can't keep running from this. You thought you could do this while keeping everything in check, while keeping your walls intact and in place. But as soon as your eyes meet hers again, you know that was never possible.
"Emily, you're scaring me. What's going on?"
The look in her eyes tells you that she's worried about you, more worried than you've ever seen her before, except for maybe during the case in Colorado, with Cyrus, but that was something different. The emotion in her eyes snaps to shock, then slides into a deeper worry and it's in this moment you register the stinging in your own eyes and the dampness on your cheeks. You have no idea when you started crying, but you do know that now you've started, you won't be able to stop. This knowledge doesn't stop you from trying however.
You feel her grip on your chin tighten slightly as if she's afraid you're about to bolt out of the room. What she doesn't know is that you're too far gone to run at this point. You've already lost yourself to this job, to your childhood, to her. You're lost and drowning and the only thing that can save you at this point is her. You try to convey this to her, to try and see if all of this will be in vain. You're searching her ocean blue eyes for any sign of hope or longing or of her needing you as much as you need her.
All you can see in hers is friendly concern.
This is what opens the floodgates and you really start crying. You cry for how you've been treating her, for the parts of you that you've lost, for pushing her towards Will, for lying to her, but most importantly for the love you know that she'll never feel for you.
Her arms snake around you and hold you while you cry and you cry even harder because of how perfectly the two of you seem to fit together. You hold on to her for dear life, knowing full well that she's your lifeline right now. The only thing you can get out is you begging her for forgiveness, but the words "I'm sorry JJ. I'm so sorry," just don't seem like enough.
You lose all track of time while she holds you and you break down in front of someone for the first time in your life. She's patient with you, gently rubbing your back and whispering comforting words in your ear. You eventually regain control of your emotions and settle down enough to pull out of her grasp, offering an apologetic smile as you do. She slides her hand down to yours and gently grasps it before turning towards her couch.
You, however, stay rooted to the spot, knowing that if you sit down and effectively cut off your quickest escape route, you will chicken out and that whole breakdown will have been for nothing. She turns to look at you with confusion written all over her beautiful face, and tugging on your hand, she nods towards the couch, but you stop her with a shake of your head. She, in turn, sighs and turns to face you completely, giving you her undivided attention.
She tightens her grip on your hand and you squeeze hers in return, hoping to reassure her that you aren't running just quite yet. You decide it's now or never, sigh, run your left hand through your hair and wish you had thought this through a little better.
"I've never been good with words. They tend to get all jumbled together and then what I'm trying to say gets lost in the mess. It's never been something I was good at, no matter how many classes my mother made me take in public speaking. Plus, I tend to ramble when I'm nervous, which I'm pretty sure I'm doing right now…"
You stop speaking as she once again tugs on your hand and smiles at you. You feel yourself melting at the sight of that smile and how breathtaking it makes her look. You get so lost in her eyes and that smile that you almost miss what she's saying. You snap back to reality in time to catch it though: "you can talk to me Emily. Whatever it is, you can tell me. I'm not going anywhere."
Not yet at least, you think to yourself. You're not exactly sure if she's aware of it, but she's started rubbing comforting circles on the back of your hand with her thumb and you're finding it rather distracting. But the subtle touch meant to convey comfort works somewhat and you think that this may not be as bad as the apocalyptic scenario you've been imagining.
You open your mouth to tell her what you've been trying to say since you walked in here. But you close your mouth quickly: what you are about to say needs to convey everything you've been feeling, it needs to be as close to perfect as you can manage. So you take a second before trying again.
"Don't marry him Jennifer. Please."
She tenses at this and her face goes blank. That look of confusion has returned with a vengeance but this time it's coupled with shock and disbelief and you decide that this look is almost as bad as some of the reactions you get in the field after telling someone a loved one has died. Another tense silence fills the room while she tries to deal with this information, leaving you time to realize what an idiot you've been.
You have no idea why this case affected you so harshly, why telling her had become such a pressing issue, why you chose to say that instead of the three words you meant to say, or why you suddenly called her Jennifer. In fact, you know she hates her name and even corrects people when they call her anything other than JJ or Agent Jareau, though you don't know why: you've always liked the name Jennifer and think it suits her perfectly.
She still has yet to respond and you mentally berate yourself. You knew this is how she was going to react, and instead of holding your tongue, you let Erik Nelson and that unsub get the better of you. Your mother would be so disappointed in you right now, and you wouldn't blame her if she were, because you've probably just ruined the best friendship you've ever had. JJ probably hates you, is disgusted with you, will want nothing more to do with you, and all you want, right now, is to go back a few minutes in time and take back those five fateful words that have put such a disturbing look on a usually flawless face.
You wait a few more seconds before you sigh for what seems like the hundredth time that day, pull your hand from hers and leave her office with as much dignity as you can muster, which is to say none at all. You just made a fool of yourself in front of the woman you love and not only did she reject you, but you actually made her speechless: something you didn't think could ever happen to JJ. How could you have been such an idiot?
You shuffle back to your desk, ignoring her eyes on your back as you move while trying to forget the sound of the door to her office closing once you're out of sight. You spend the rest of the day with your head down trying to focus on your paper work while attempting to dodge Morgan's concerned questions or Reid's sweet attempts at cheering you up.
The end of the day finally rolls around and to everyone's surprise, you are the first to stand and walk your finished paperwork to Hotch's office. On your return trip to your desk, your phone rings and you answer it without looking at the caller ID, "Prentiss."
"Hey Emily."
You can't help the first genuine smile of the day at the sound of your friend's voice, "Jordan, hey. What's up?"
"I was wondering if you had time to consult on a case of ours?"
You chuckle, "you sure that's all?"
You can imagine her smirking while trying to give an innocent shrug, "well… I was thinking that if we finish with the consult in time, then maybe you could help me with another minor problem I've been having."
This time you laugh, "be at my place in half an hour with Thai food in your hand and I will see what I can do for you."
You blush slightly at the sound of her laughter echoing down the phone line, "see you in a bit then."
"Sounds good."
You hang up the phone; grab your gear and head towards the elevator. This is exactly what you need to pick you up after the incident in JJ's office. The elevator doors slide closed and you start to smile again. You and Agent Todd had gotten pretty close while JJ was away on maternity leave. The flirtatious banter had started out innocent enough between the two of you, but unlike how it ended with JJ, the friendship with Jordan Todd progressed into something more.
The two of you have an understanding: while you are both still single, you would be able to call the other one when either of your needs got to be too much. You can still see the look on her face when she realized for the first time that you were effectively friends with benefits. Granted, you both had been pretty drunk the first time it happened, but the attraction had been real enough and you both figured that there was nothing wrong with such a casual relationship.
There were, however, two rules to the whole deal. The first is that you wouldn't force anything or read too much into anything: you were to let it be and see where it goes. The second is that once either of you found someone you wanted to date then the deal was off, no questions asked.
x……x……x……x……x……x……x
Forty-five minutes later, the Counter-Terrorism agent was walking through the door to your condo, the case file in one hand and a bag of take out food in the other. She leans over and places a gentle, quick kiss on your lips. You smile as she breaks away and close the door behind her before following her to the couch where the plates and wine are already out and waiting. She tosses the case file down on the table and plops down onto your couch.
You can't help but smile at how comfortable she looks in your apartment as you take the seat across from her. She stops pouring the second glass of wine once she gets a good look at you. Her brows furrow in concern, "you okay Emily?"
You nod but you can tell that she doesn't buy it, "let's eat and take care of the case first. We can talk after."
She focuses on you a second longer before nodding to herself in response, almost as if she's allowing you to avoid the question this one time, but you know she won't be forgetting about it anytime soon. You kick yourself mentally for the second time that day as you curse how well Jordan has gotten at reading you.
The two of you spend the next hour and a half going over her case, eating dinner and killing the bottle of wine. You head to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee and she follows you with the dishes. While your back is turned to her, she moves up so she's standing right behind you and wraps her arms around your waist, "you ready to tell me what happened today?"
You feel her head rest on your shoulder and you sigh because this should be enough for you, she should be enough for you, but you're not satisfied with Jordan being the one to provide the comfort you've been seeking. You know that you'll never be satisfied with Jordan because the only one you want holding you like this is JJ, and right now that need is too great, too raw for you to be able to turn to this woman for comfort. You thought you could keep doing this, but it's not fair to the other agent if you can't even reciprocate the intimacy anymore without thinking about a certain blond.
Jordan sighs, and you know that she felt you tense up at her touch instead of melting into it like you used to, "why do I feel like you're about to tell me we shouldn't be doing this anymore?"
You turn slowly in her arms and look at her apologetically, "it's nothing like that Jordan. I just feel like you're ready to take this to the next level, and I can't do that yet. I honestly don't know if I'll ever be able to."
Jordan studies your face, obviously searching for some sort of an answer, "Emily, I can wait until you're ready. This doesn't have to change. We can…"
You shake your head and cut her off, "no, I don't think we can."
She takes a step back and really looks at you, and you don't try and hide anything from her, she deserves that at least. Realization dawns in her brown eyes, "you told her, didn't you?"
You nod and step around her to head back into the living room, "yeah I did."
Jordan was the only person you had told about JJ, the only person you had trusted with that piece of information because she was an objective third party, and because she had read you like a book when you had failed to compartmentalize JJ once when Jordan was just starting. She saw through what you were trying so desperately to hide. Even with the relationship you two were currently flirting with, she was receptive to your need to talk and often offered comfort and advice for you. You know that you can never repay the younger woman for everything she's done for you so far.
She settles onto the couch next to you, "how did she take it?"
You chuckle bitterly, "she didn't."
Quirking an eyebrow at you, Jordan waits for you to explain. "She didn't do anything. She just stood there with a look of shock on her face. I waited in silence for a couple of minutes and then left."
Jordan reaches over and takes your hand, intertwining your fingers with hers, "she didn't say anything? Wow Emily, I'm sorry."
You shrug in defeat and let her pull you into a hug. The two of you sit there in silence for a while before she breaks it; "you know I'll always be here for you, right?"
You nod noncommittally against her shoulder and she nudges you with her elbow, "I mean it. Even if we stop whatever this is. I will be here for you if you need to talk. Just because we won't be sleeping together anymore doesn't mean we have to lose the friendship."
You sigh before pulling out of her embrace and positioning yourself so you can look her in the eye, "what did I do to deserve a friend like you?"
She smirks and shrugs her right shoulder, "eh, you're just lucky I guess."
You grin at her before bumping her with your shoulder. She laughs and you can't help but to smile even bigger and shake your head. Once you both had settled down a little, you turn to her: "seriously though. Thank you."
Jordan simply shrugs again before swiping the TV remote off of your coffee table and turns on the flat screen you have attached to the wall of the room. You cock an eyebrow at her, "you want to watch TV?"
She merely grins at you as a knock on your door sounds through the room. You don't move at first, waiting to hear her response. You poke her and she looks back at you before deadpanning, "well, you're not putting out tonight, so I figured I'd at least make use of your two hundred HD channels."
This time you laugh outright and you can't help but notice it's the first honest to goodness laugh you've had in a long time. You move to the door and open it, the smile fading from your face as you see someone who looks like JJ trying to make a hasty retreat back to the stairs. Your eyebrows jump together in confusion and wonder for a second why she's suddenly running away, so you do the only thing you can think of to stop her. You call out to her, "JJ?"
She freezes with her shoulders hunched and you can picture the wince that's on her face as she realizes she just got busted trying to run away from your door. She quickly composes herself and slowly turns to face you, a sheepish smile tugging at her lips. When no explanation is forthcoming, you can feel your head shift to the side slightly and the confusion deepens upon your face, "JJ, what are you doing here?"
You see a myriad of emotions flow through her endlessly blue eyes before determination becomes the most prominent one. She clears her throat and straightens her stance, almost as if she's preparing herself for a physical blow, and it occurs to you in that moment that she's going to ask you about the one thing you wanted to avoid for the time being. "I have a question… about earlier."
You drop your eyes to the carpet where you kick at it in an attempt to stop the blush that's creeping up your neck. You were really hoping that she was coming to talk about anything other than that. You want nothing more than to shrink back into your apartment so you can curl up in a ball under the covers of your bed and forget this ever happened. But the logical part of your brain rationalizes that by humoring her, you can probably make her leave faster than if you tried to stonewall her, "oh, that."
She sighs, and that one noise carries so much to it. You can tell by that simple exhalation of air that she's frustrated, confused, and concerned. She leans towards you, trying to catch your eye, but you continue to avoid direct eye contact with her.
"Emily, look at me."
You refuse her request because your walls still aren't fully in place when it comes to her, and you're afraid that the only thing you'll see when you finally look at her is pity. You know seeing that would send you back into your downward spiral so you continue to stare intently at the carpet like you've never seen it before, as if its light blue paisley pattern is extremely fascinating to you. She grumbles slightly under her breath before she reaches under your chin for the second time today and forces you to look at her.
You try to avoid looking at her still. It's childish, you know, but you don't really care at this point. But the tone of her voice when she speaks to you again brings your eyes snapping forward to meet hers. There's so much pleading in her voice that you can't ignore her, "Em, look at me. I need you to listen to me, and when I ask you this question, I need you to be honest. No bullshitting to try and avoid the subject, ok? Please, Emily."
You sigh because you know that honesty is the least you can give her after bombarding her with your emotional overkill earlier. You don't trust your voice quite yet, so instead of verbally agreeing, you settle on a simple nod instead.
JJ's head begins to bob slightly with yours, almost as if she needs to assure herself that this needs to be done. She releases your chin and takes a step back, running a hand through her golden locks, "I need to know why."
This takes you by surprise, and you're not sure why this is. This would have been the first question you'd want answered if your roles were reversed. But this knowledge still doesn't stop the sudden icy grip of fear that is currently assaulting your insides. You try to calm yourself down by telling yourself that you owe JJ this, and you've never been one to disappoint when you owe someone something. You steady your nerves and open your mouth to answer, knowing that it has to be said right now, otherwise you may not have the courage to do it later and then you wouldn't be able to fix any of this.
A sudden presence, followed by a voice, at your left stops your answer in your throat and you slam your mouth shut before the two of your whip around to look at the origin of the voice.
"Who is it Emily?"
You had forgotten that Jordan was still in your condo and you can't even begin to imagine what this looks like to JJ. You all but professed your love to her today and now have another woman in your apartment tonight. You turn to see what kind of effect this is having on the younger press liaison, and you aren't really surprised to see confusion and… well, surprise settled on her features. You look quickly back to Jordan to try and explain to her, but the look in her eye is nothing but understanding. Her stance however, is one of confidence and protectiveness. You read it as a friend looking out for you, but looking at JJ again, you can tell the blond reads it as something else.
She's blushing, you're feeling guilty, and Jordan simply leans up against your doorjamb smiling as she crosses her arms across her chest, "Agent Jareau."
You can hear the underlying humor in Jordan's voice. It almost sounds like she had been expecting JJ to show up tonight and one look at the smirk on her face tells you exactly that. At this revelation, you become distracted with two thoughts. The first is that Jordan should really become a profiler. And the second is that she truly does understand and there aren't any hard feelings between the two brunettes.
You swing your attention back to JJ, and stop yourself from reaching out to her: she looks like someone just punched her in the gut and then kicked her puppy in front of her. You can tell she's faltering with how to respond to Jordan's presence because when you first met, the Counter-Terrorism agent intimidated the hell out of you. It seems as though JJ defaults back to tense and awkward as she nods, "Agent Todd."
The standoff continues between the two women, leaving you as a bystander in this whole mess that you somehow managed to create. JJ is still trying to figure out the relationship between you and Jordan, and Jordan is silently threatening JJ in an attempt to keep her from hurting you. The tension continues to ratchet up and you are desperately trying to find a way to end this peacefully. Jordan beats you to it however when she rolls her eyes, pushes away from the doorjamb and clears her throat, "all right. As fun as this has been, I should probably go. Thanks for the help Emily."
As she walks past you, she runs her hand down your arm in a sign of support. She tosses a look over her shoulder that simultaneously wishes you luck and reminds you to call her later if you need to. You watch her go because you can feel JJ's eyes on you and you're not sure if you can handle all of that right now.
"Oh God Emily, please tell me I'm not too late."
It was quiet, but you're sure she said it. Turning to look at her, you struggle to keep the hope out of your eyes and your voice as you ask, "what did you just say?"
Her head whips up to meet your eyes, and you can see the evident confusion flashing through them: confusion and her walls scrambling back into place.
"What?"
You're quickly losing your fight with the hope that's desperately trying to be acknowledged. Your heart has obviously decided it wants to wage war on your sanity as well because it has started beating rapidly and rather loudly. You're sure JJ can hear it, so you swallow once to try and settle everything, but that's so hard to do with her standing so close to you. You can never think clearly when she's standing this close to you, "you just said, 'Oh God Emily, please tell me I'm not too late.'"
She winces in embarrassment and she's blushing again, making her even more gorgeous in your opinion, "shit, I said that out loud, didn't I?"
You can only nod, because your brain is going into overdrive and you don't trust your voice. She runs her hand through her hair again, "look, can we talk?"
Still remaining quiet, you turn back into your condo, leaving the door open for her to decide if she wants to follow you or not. You need to come up with a plan and fast, because at the rate this conversation is going, you two are going to be dancing around each other until dawn. That is something you don't feel like doing, so you place as much physical distance between the two of you as you can. You lean against the island in your kitchen with your arms crossed, hoping to give off an air of indifference as she closes the door, quickly surveys the scene in front of her and then settles her attention on you.
You don't miss the flash of disappointment that crosses her face as she notices the wine glasses and you think the last thing you need right now is for her to judge your relationship with Agent Todd. You are alone with her and uncomfortable, even if this is your condo, and you try to keep most of the bitterness out of your voice: "why are you here Jennifer?"
You obviously didn't mask the bitterness very well because she visibly flinches at this before anger flashes in her eyes, making them an extremely light blue that has almost flushed out completely to white. "Look, you don't have the right to snap at me! You're the one who came into my office earlier today and all but begged me not to marry Will! What the fuck Emily!?"
You recoil at the anger and venom dripping from her voice. You had never meant to sound so harsh with her, but she should have known that this situation was hard on both of you. Trying to push her away was a coping mechanism, one that you had used the most growing up, and when you feel cornered you thrust people out of your life so you don't hurt anymore. You didn't even realize you were doing it this time, which tells you exactly how terrified of being vulnerable in front of this woman you actually are.
The anger immediately falls from JJ's face when she sees your reaction to her outburst, and you can see the understanding in her eyes, which have settled back on a more normal blue. She takes a step towards you, her hand up, out and reaching, but she stops it before it gets too close to you.
"Shit Em, I'm sorry. It's just that you dropped one hell of a bombshell on me earlier, and I haven't been able to think straight since."
Your eyes narrow of their own accord and anger threatens to break through what very little is left of your walls. There's no way she's going to pin this one on you, no way she's going to get your sympathy because she hasn't been able to think straight for the last few hours. You haven't been able to think straight for the last three years!
You're exhausted and tired of hiding your feelings, tired of dancing around everything, and tired of trying to remain polite. So you decide to drop the act and go right for blunt, "oh come on JJ. You may not be a profiler, but you've spent enough time with us to pick certain things up. There's no way you didn't see this coming!"
She takes another small step towards you. The movement is slow and controlled, almost as if she was approaching an injured animal she's afraid to spook. "Ok, so maybe I should have seen it, but that still doesn't make this any easier. We've spent the last three years dancing around this issue and just when I think I've got it figured out, you push me towards him… I didn't know what to think. Up until then, I thought that everything between us meant more than what everyone else saw. I thought it all meant more to you. But then you go and tell me to go after Will. I was hurt and confused, so I thought that's what you wanted. God Emily, if I had known… if we had just talked about it…"
You can't stop yourself as you step closer to her so you're standing just outside her personal space. You should have known she felt that way; you should have been able to read her. But you were too busy being selfish to see that she was struggling with these feelings as much as you were.
Your hand twitches with it's desire to reach out and stroke her cheek, but you will it to stay in place a little longer because these things need to get said: "I shouldn't have suggested it. And I'm sorry that I did: you have no idea how much. Being so close to you without being able to touch you, to have you, knowing that you go home to him every night and let him hold you in ways that I could only ever dream of…I've done things I'm not proud of, but God Jayj, pushing you towards him was the biggest regret I will ever have."
You pause because there are still so many things to say, but you're afraid you'll scare her off. You don't know where to go from there, but she takes care of that for you by asking: "then why did you?"
You can feel the sadness welling up in your eyes along with unshed tears, "I honestly don't know. I guess I was afraid and I panicked."
The small distance between you is suddenly gone as she takes the next step so she's standing in your personal space. You can feel the heat of her body, which causes you to shiver slightly, and you have to focus all of your attention on what she's saying.
"What were you afraid of Emily?"
You can feel the tears that are now threatening to fall and you're embarrassed by them. You're a Prentiss for Pete's sake, and Prentiss' do not cry… ever. Keeping your eyes diverted from hers, you desperately try to hold onto what little dignity you have left in this situation as you continue on with your confession: "I was afraid that you didn't feel the same, that maybe it was just harmless flirting to you. And I thought if I pushed you towards him, then I could move on."
Her voice breaks through to you, and the pleading in it has you reacting without really thinking about it, "Emily, look at me. Please look at me."
Once your eyes are on hers, you can see tears forming in her own, "please Emily. I need to know. Why? Why don't you want me to marry him? Please sweetheart, I need to hear you say it."
You study her eyes for a few seconds and are overwhelmed by the emotions you see there. She's hopeful and scared, desperate to understand and yet still confident, there's a longing that you never thought you'd see in her eyes: she needs you as much as you need her, she needs you to hold her together, to keep her sane in this job.
You see her in her entirety and it is so breathtakingly beautiful that you have to answer her honestly because you finally get that she has the same wants, desires, hopes and fears that you do and that makes you feel whole for the first time in your life. You know in this instant that she completes you and you complete her, as cheesy and cliché as that sounds. You can't help the smile that breaks out on your face, "you can't marry him, because I love you Jennifer Jareau."
Relief, joy and love wash over her features as she reaches up and cups the side of your face, the pad of her thumb gently wiping away the tears that have managed to escape, "you have no idea how long I've waited to hear you say that. God, I love you so much Emily Prentiss."
You can feel your smile growing as you hook your thumbs through her belt loops and pull her impossibly closer to you. You lean down towards her lips, but stop at the last second, giving her a chance to pull away. She looks you in the eye and then down at your lips before she wraps a hand around your head and pulls you in the last few inches so your lips are finally touching in a light, gentle kiss.
You have no idea who deepens it, but soon you are both releasing all the emotions you've been too afraid to express to each other in the last few years in that one gentle and loving kiss. When air becomes an issue, the two of you pull apart and you rest your forehead against hers, while gently tracing patterns on the skin of her hips with your thumbs. She responds by wrapping her arms around your waist, both of you wanting to stay as close to the other as possible.
A sigh of contentment breaks the silence as you stand in each other's arms, simply enjoying the closeness of the other, the silence and the moment. You look deep into her amazingly beautiful eyes and realize that there would never be a compartment big enough to contain the way you feel about this woman.
You feel the need to confess this, so you do it the only way you can: with five simple words that have been terrorizing your mind since you met this amazing woman.
"I will always love you."
The look in her eyes tells you all that you need to know. She understands. She gets it, and she gets you. Normally not being able to compartmentalize something would terrify you, but you just can't compartmentalize her. She smiles at you and you feel such a rush of emotion that you can't imagine why you started shoving things into nice, neat boxes to begin with. You promise yourself from this moment on that you will never try to put Jennifer Jareau in a box ever again.
You don't need to be perfect for her, and she doesn't have to be perfect for you. You can throw out that old script and start living without one because the two of you are more perfect together than you could ever be on your own. She's your JJ and you're her Emily and together, you two are stronger than anything life could throw at you. You fit together, complete each other, perfect each other and that is all you will ever need.
A/N: I'm toying with the idea of writing a third piece to this…what would you call these two fics? I guess it's a series. Anyway, it would be a sequel that starts where the two one-shots left off. Let me know if you'd be interested and if you want it to be a multi-chapter, a one-shot, or if you want me to leave the two pieces as stand alones. Thanks for reading!!
Reviews are my anti-drug. Help a sister out, would ya?