Chapter 1

"How come none of this gets to you?" I'd asked Emily, not long after she joined the team. It came out more bitterly than I intended. She'd unintentionally surprised me, adjusting my bandages in Hankel's bathroom, and I resented this woman I barely knew seeing me vulnerable and afraid.

"What do you mean?" she replied. Her voice was cautiously concerned, like she wasn't sure if she was allowed to worry about me yet.

I softened my voice. "You came off a desk job," I reminded her. "And now suddenly you're in the field, surrounded by mutilated bodies, and you don't even flinch."

"She's right, you've never blinked," Hotch agreed, behind her.

Emily's face had shown only the briefest flicker of doubt. "I guess... Maybe I compartmentalise better than most people," she answered and that was that.

Compartmentalising, though, is a conscious act. It involves a high level of self-awareness and focus. This is important, not that. Head over heart. Keeping it up, if possible, is exhausting. And the obvious downside is... Well, the downside that should've been obvious is: once you're no longer awake and putting effort into keeping everything in its proper place, the mind does what it likes.

In dreams, every thought, scent, sight, sound, feeling you've ever felt is available for selection and manipulation. The dogs I'd shot down came back to life every night, no matter how much I tried to put them out of my mind during the day. And for Emily, who never let a hint of fear show on her face, it should've been obvious - I should've guessed - that she'd have worse nightmares than any of us.

The Bureau wasn't exactly throwing money around but if we could swing it, depending on the location of the case, we usually got motel rooms to ourselves. It wasn't a set-in-stone given but that was how it went, more often than not.

When Hotch told us we'd be doubling up at a small motel we were staying at in rural New Jersey, I took it with an attitude of, 'Oh well - you win some, you lose some,'and hoisted my go bag onto my shoulder, ready to head upstairs. Emily's face showed no change but there was something about her posture that seemed off. I couldn't place it. Only after six months of working together almost every day was I evenbeginning to understand that woman's too subtle emotional shifts.

When we entered our room I arbitrarily picked a bed and flung my bag down, while Emily remained at the door, keeping a hand on her own bag almost protectively. She looked like she wanted to turn around and walk back out.

It was 9 pm or so by then. We'd been out in the field all day and we'd stopped to eat at a diner on our way to the motel so there was no reason for her not to settle in for the night. Still, Emily hesitated.

"You have a preference to which bed you want?" I asked, although I'd already began unpacking things onto one of them. I doubted it was anything so trivial that was bothering her but I wanted to open up a dialogue.

"No, of course not," Emily replied, moving properly inside now. "Were you planning on showering?"

"Yeah, I might," I answered. "Just to save time in the morning. We'll be up pretty early as it is."

"You go first then," Emily said and that was it. She started unpacking things neatly onto her own bed and didn't say another word. Every visible sign of anxiety had disappeared and yet I got the distinct impression that whatever momentary fear she'd had, it had been masked rather than assuaged.

What was I supposed to do though, if she wouldn't let me in? I went to have my shower and, when I was done, Emily took my place. We got into bed without saying more than a few simple words to each other. I read until eleven thirty or so and then suggested we get some sleep. Emily returned her tablet to her bag, wished me goodnight, and that should've been that.

But Emily didn't sleep. She didn't even try. At first I wasn't paying too much attention, I didn't notice, but then something drew my attention to her deliberately deep, even breaths and I thought, 'That's not natural.' She was resting but not sleeping. Every so often I opened my eyes to peek at her and found her staring at the ceiling. Eventually I fell asleep myself and when I woke up in the morning, Emily was already up and moving around. She didn't look like she'd slept at all. But then she applied make-up and I wasn't sure. Maybe I'd imagined it. She looked perfectly fine once she exited the bathroom.

Our second day in New Jersey was long and fruitless. Another body was found - a young, female victim. Emily and I had notified the parents. Emily was compassionate but detached and I marveled at her. She was either some kind of robot, who only faked having emotions when it suited her, or she had a mask of stone guarding her against the perception and understanding of others.

That night, I paid even more pointed attention to Emily than the first. Again, I heard her slow, even breathing - the sort of thing they instruct you to do in a therapist's office or on a yoga retreat - and I knew she wasn't sleeping. By then I realised that she had no intention to.

"Do you ever sleep, Emily?" I sighed, sometime after midnight.

"Am I disturbing you?" Emily asked, surprised. And I was right - with the clarity and quickness of her response there was no way she'd been asleep or anywhere close to it.

"Of course you're not disturbing me," I answered, although I was a little peeved despite myself. "I'm just confused. How do you expect to work if you don't sleep?"

"Meditation is very effective," Emily replied obliquely. "Far more effective than poor quality sleep."

"Why don't you just take a sleeping pill?" I asked. "I have some in my go bag if you want?"

"I'm fine." Emily's voice was quiet. "Go to sleep, JJ."

I closed my eyes but only for a few seconds. I just couldn't do it, knowing she was lying there awake. "You were nervous about sharing a room with me and now you won't sleep. Em, is something wrong? Is it me?"

Emily turned her cheek into her pillow and met my eye. "Why do you care if I'm not disturbing you?"

"Are you kidding?" I asked disbelievingly. "I care because... God, why do I need a reason? You're not sleeping. It's not healthy. We put our minds through enough with this job not to rest them afterwards."

"Sleeping isn't restful for me, JJ," Emily admitted. Her voice was low, fading in the darkness.

"Nightmares," I sighed, understanding. "Emily, we all get them."

"I can be loud..."

I could see why that would bother her. Calm, rational Emily, crying out against her will and in the presence of a colleague...? The idea had to be intensely repellent to her - so much so that she'd rather not sleep at all. She needed to stay in control.

"Sleep, Emily," I insisted. "Just try it for one night."

Emily nodded reluctantly but all through the night I heard her deep, controlled breathing and knew she was lying awake too.