A/N: I posted this ages ago, but it had song lyrics in it, so I took it down after realising that wasn't allowed. It's still one of my favourite one shots I've written on JJ and Will though, and after toying around with a few other songfics with no actual lyrics (which will be posted soon), I wanted it back up in some form. Can be read alone, but the scenes are all influenced by the song I Need My Girl, by The National, so I'd recommend giving that a listen.
I hope you like it, and if you read it before, thank you and I hope you don't mind it popping up again!
Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Criminal Minds.
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"If anything ever happens to me, call Mateo Cruz," she'd once told him.
That was exactly what he'd done, and then when it didn't work, he'd gone straight to Hotch. Because if anyone could rescue JJ then it was Aaron Hotchner. Every day he put his faith in the fact that his wife's team had her back. And they'd never let him down before.
Now, he was sitting in the middle of the FBI building, with his son sleeping beside him, while he waited for the arrangements for their protective custody to be completed. And his faith did not falter.
"Are you okay?" Garcia had asked, when she had brought him tea, and a blanket for Henry. "Do you need anything else?"
He had nodded, in confirmation that he was holding up. And then he had assured her that there was nothing else she could do for him. He knew that everything that could possibly be done to locate JJ was being done. For the time being, that knowledge was stopping his worry becoming all consuming.
But there was one thing he wanted, even if he knew he couldn't have it just yet.
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It wasn't long before he found himself being driven towards a safe house in a dark SUV. As they continued along quiet road after quiet road, and he watched the orange blur of street lights above them, one thought consumed his mind.
JJ.
It amazed him that one person could occupy so much of his consciousness and fill up so many of his memories. But there she was. Beautiful. Strong. Angry. Crying. Laughing. Always there and playing on repeat.
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She was pregnant at the time. Heavily pregnant. Heavily pregnant and furious. At him.
"Come on darlin'," he'd reasoned. "There's not that much difference between smooth and crunchy peanut butter."
And that was when she'd exploded. He'd had to resist the urge to run for cover.
"I am carrying your child!" she'd shouted, turning into the clichéd definition of hormonal. "And I've been working on this case for four days! All I wanted was peanut butter and chips! I can't dip chips into crunchy peanut butter!"
He had been wise enough to control the smirk that was fighting to cross his lips at the ridiculousness of her outburst.
"I'll go and get the right stuff," he had offered, keeping his expression and tone neutral.
"No, I'll go," she'd snapped in response, already heading for the door. "You'll only get it wrong. Again!" Without concern for the late hour, the front door had been slammed shut and the next sound to reach his ears was that of the car engine springing to life.
Followed swiftly by the crunch and crack of metal hitting wood.
He had rushed outside, heart pounding out of fear that she had been hurt.
"Are you okay?" He'd swung the driver's side door open to find her crying over the steering wheel. "JJ, are you okay?" he'd urgently repeated, crouching beside her.
"I'm fine," had come her muffled reply. And then she'd turned to him and wrapped her arms around him as she continued to sob, pausing only to explain how she must have left the car in reverse rather than neutral.
When Will was becoming sure that his shirt could hold no more moisture, she'd let go, suddenly seeming to gain control of her hormones. And then she'd glanced up at him, fresh tears forming in her eyes.
"What is it?" he'd asked with renewed concern.
"I still don't have my peanut butter," had been her sad, whispered reply.
A smile had crept across his face – he couldn't help it this time – and the smile had slowly turned to a laugh. At first, she'd looked puzzled. And then angry. But finally a watery smile had emerged on her face and she too started to giggle.
By the time they headed inside, they were both sore from laughing. And from that day until Henry was born, the Jareau-LaMontagne household always had a plentiful supply of smooth peanut butter.
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Once they had arrived at the safe house, Will sat quietly and watched Henry sleep. He couldn't quite believe that the boy tucked into bed beside him had once been the cause of her intense cravings. With each midnight snack and hysterical outburst, he'd fallen even more in love with her. Pregnancy, and then motherhood, suited her so well.
He ran his fingers through Henry's blonde hair, thinking as he always did, how very like JJ he was. He couldn't imagine a life where his boy had to grow up without his mother. He wasn't even sure how he'd explain where she was when Henry woke up in the morning.
JJ would never leave him to raise a child alone; she would fight to return to her family. Not that their family was restricted to himself and their child, or that she would think twice about throwing him to the wolves in less serious situations. He chuckled quietly as he thought of the last "family" event they had attended together.
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The room had fallen silent as soon as the badly stifled laugh left his mouth and he'd felt a sharp burst of pain as her foot collided with his shin under the table. It was thanksgiving and the entire team, including their partners and children, were gathered at Rossi's house. And all eyes had suddenly focussed on him.
"What's funny about JJ chipping her tooth?" Jack Hotchner had asked, his turkey and potato loaded fork pausing between his plate and his mouth, as he eyed Will curiously. Ah, from the mouths of babes… His question was genuine and asked with perfect innocence. Unlike it would have been if it came from anyone else at the table.
"Yeah, Will, what's so funny about it?" JJ had enquired, raising her eyebrows expectantly. God, she had really dropped him in it on that one. And no one had come to save him.
"Well," he had started, feeling his face flush red. "Ah… it was… I mean…" He had turned to look at her, begging for help – he would have done anything she wanted if she had released him from that moment of hell. Anything. "It was more what she was doin' when she fell," his mouth had quickly rambled, without connecting with his brain. "She was… cleanin' the light fittins."
JJ's eyes had widened to such an extent that he wondered if they would pop out of her head.
"So that's what the kids are calling it," Emily had mumbled with a smirk, only allowing those around her to hear.
Penelope, who was sitting nearby, had spluttered from behind her wine glass and began to choke. Morgan had patted her on the back, as the spotlight was, thankfully, drawn away from the beetroot-faced, sweating Southerner.
Later in the evening, after several more drinks had been consumed and the children were asleep, JJ had admitted that her chipped tooth was in fact the result of falling face first into the coffee table when she and Will had been so eager to make the most of some "grown-up time" that they couldn't make it to the bedroom. She'd laughed along with the others, curling up against him as they sat around the fire, and he'd felt incredibly lucky to have a wife so understanding of his slip-up.
That was until she'd cornered him as they pulled on their jackets in the hallway and waited for their taxi. He'd leaned in for a kiss, hoping it would lead to more once they returned home.
"Oh no, darlin'," she'd grinned, mocking his accent. "It's gonna be a long time before I'm cleanin' any light fittins!"
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Many hours had passed and still he was without her. They'd called Emily in and she was travelling all the way back from London. It was serious – more so than he had first imagined. With the jobs they worked, he was used to spending time away from her, but this felt different. There was a possibility that their separation would be permanent. And that made him crave the warmth of her body beside him even more.
The agent that had been assigned to protect Will and Henry was growing antsy as he received updates on the progress of the search. And Will was growing desperate to hear her voice. There were times when he hadn't given their relationship all the attention that he should have and he wanted more than ever to be able to put that right.
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The period she had spent working away from the BAU had been hard. It was clear that she was not working a desk job, which would allow her to eat dinner with her family and put Henry to bed each night. The longer hours he could tolerate; they had never known anything different. But it was when she disappeared to some undisclosed location, and he didn't even know which continent she was on, that he found himself getting annoyed.
As much as he hated to admit it, he had been cool towards her when she arrived home, quiet and somewhat changed. There was one afternoon in particular which stuck out in his memory.
It was a few days after she had returned. She was covered in bruises and other minor injuries which she could not, or would not, explain. Henry had wanted to go to the park and play soccer. JJ had told their son that she was too tired to play, before returning her attention to the book in her hands. Will had watched as she stared at the same page for several minutes, before he decided to speak to her. He had reminded her that Henry had missed his Momma when she was away, and that the boy really wanted them to play together.
Her response was what had struck him as odd, and he wished he had reacted differently than he did.
"I know I'm messing up being a mom," she had stated, tears swirling around in her eyes. "I want to be better, but today I can't. I'm sorry."
It wasn't like JJ to sound so melodramatic and wallow in self-pity. He had been taken aback by her remark and a part of him wanted to ask her what was going on. No, he knew he should ask her. But Henry had wanted to go to the park, and he was still feeling irritated by the secrecy surrounding her trip, so he had left her alone and spent the next few hours with his son.
By the they'd returned, JJ was preparing dinner in the kitchen. As they joined her, she had pulled Henry close and smothered his head in kisses. Then they had got on with their evening.
In the proceeding weeks she remained quiet, and there was something about her which never quite returned to how it once was. However, there were no more tears and neither party mentioned her odd behaviour that afternoon.
Yet Will had never quite let go of his regret at failing to ask her why she was so upset.
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What had been going through her mind in those days after her return? He wished he'd been more supportive; he wished he'd been less pissed off about being left with Henry. Maybe if he had she'd have opened up to him; maybe if he had then he'd have been able to protect her.
And then she'd have been with him, instead of in the hands of a terrorist.
The agent in the safe house received a phone call and his face turned serious. Will paced the room. Something was going on – something they weren't telling him. His mind flicked through images of JJ, as he tried to work out what was happening.
How had she become so deeply involved with something so dangerous? What could she possibly know that was worth tearing her from her family?
Time was ticking on. The agent received another update and Will's heart rate increased to the point where he felt faint.
He could not understand what had led them to this point or what would happen next. He couldn't comprehend the possibility of losing his wife.
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Amongst the hustle and bustle of the FBI, from the moment he had reported her missing, Will had felt as though he was disappearing. He was the husband and he could do nothing. He couldn't help them to find her and he couldn't plan for the future.
As the time since he had last spoken to her became more distant, her absence felt even more acute. He was a part of JJ and Will. Not in the way that some couples were joined at the hip, but in the sense that in every decision he made, she was always somewhere in his mind. To think of deciding on something without her, was to shrink the meaning and purpose behind any choice he could make.
Without her, he thought he himself might slowly disappear.
A female agent entered the house and murmured urgently to the man who had been with them from since they left the FBI building. Will hovered in the doorway, feeling lost as he tried to make out their words. It took him by surprise when the agents turned to face him.
"They've got her," the woman smiled, relief evident on every inch of her face. "She's safe."
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The journey to the hospital had been unbearably long but ,eventually, there she was in front of him.
His wife. Henry's mother. Safe.
He no longer felt he was losing a part of himself. His mind stopped trawling through the archives of memories. He had his girl and they could make so many more.
Beautiful. Strong. Angry. Crying. Laughing. Back where she was needed and full of the promise of a future.