One shot. Feelings around the time JJ flies to Paris to see Emily
The heels of her boots were clicking soundly on the pavement below her feet. Despite the bustling noisy of the Paris city street, it was all she could hear. By focusing her attention on the rhythm of her steps, it allowed for a momentary distraction from the task she had been ordered to fulfil. It prevented her mind from wandering to...to her.
Crossing the street, her shoulder's automatically squared and her eyes remained focussed on the figure sitting at the cafe's outdoor table. The bag hanging from her left shoulder felt like it weighed a tonne. The secrets at the bottom were pulling her down and all she wanted to do was pull out the small package and dump it into the river.
Suddenly her mind was filled with memories and she had to swallow strongly to stop any tears falling from her eyes. Her new companion folded the newspaper she had been holding and let it be on the table. There was a strong difference between the woman sitting in front of her and then one she once knew. This scared her. There was a weight lifted from her shoulders as the bag slipped off and into her lap. It was replaced by the feeling of her heart being squeezed tightly.
In a way she was thankful that this particular job had been assigned to her, that she was allowed to see her friend one last time. But in another she would have rather been anywhere else in the world that at the street corner cafe. Both her mind and heart were conflicted. While her mind was telling her to hand over the envelope, give the little information she had to give and leave, her heart was yelling at her loud and clear to take the hand in front of her and beg, and plead, and cry for her to come home.
In the end her mind won out and her eyes dropped to her bag, unable to hold the gaze anymore. She busied herself with pulling the secrets she wish she knew out of her bag, to place it on top of the newspaper. Her voice nearly broke when she finally spoke. "Passports from three different countries and a bank account in each to keep you comfortable."
She watched as the small package was taken from the table top and placed into yet another bag. "Thank you." Being the messenger, she knew that those words were not just for the documents, but because she was letting her go while unsure if she would ever come back to the family they had created. Her gaze faulted momentarily; she could see the emotions beginning to spill over the edges of the strong compartments that had been created over the years.
A lone tear slid down her face as she walked away across the intersection. The last words Jennifer Jureau thought she would ever say to the woman she loved were "Good luck." She prayed that her eyes had been able to express what she had been unable to say without breaking.
'I love you, Emily Prentiss.'
