Author's Note: Though I have previously written a domestic violence fic, someone requested I write this story and it just sort of fell into place.

"They're all voiceless about it. They're afraid to speak. And the strange thing is that while you're a victim of abuse, you don't know it. You don't realize it."

-Carol Channing

JJ collapsed against the closed door, every ounce of energy spent as fumbled in her purse for the keys she knew were buried somewhere as she offered a brief smile to her son who watched her intently.

He had already been through enough.

Especially tonight.

She didn't need to let him know how exhausted—and terrified—she really was.

But things weren't always like that.

He wasn't always like that.

She knocked softly on the door, feeling her spirits soar as nothing stirred—signifying that Hotch had yet again been called away on some knightly errand to save the world from monsters that preyed on the innocent.

It was odd to think that she had, at one point, been a part of that life-saving crew.

How far she had fallen.

Relief washed over her as her fingers wrapped around the familiar keys.

If Hotch knew she came here, he would understand.

After all, it had been he who asked her to 'house sit' when he was off on cases and Jack spent the night at Jessica's.

But if he knew why she was coming, he could never understand.

Sliding the key into the lock, she winced as she unconsciously used her bad wrist to open the door. Pulling the inflamed extremity close to her chest, she turned and pushed the door open with her shoulder.

She cringed as she caught sight of her face in the hall mirror as she flipped the lights on, flooding Hotch's home with warm comforting light. Quickly disarming the security alarm, she couldn't tear her eyes off the inflamed ugly mass that adorned her cheek.

Henry whimpered as he pushed tiredly against JJ's worn frame.

JJ scratched the back of his head softly and pulled him into her lap as she collapsed down on the overstuffed chair. She pulled her son into her arms, lovingly rubbing his brow as she willed him to sleep.

Right now, she just wasn't too sure what to do.

But at least she had somewhere to spend the night.

In the morning, Will would call her—he had to call her—and let her apologize.

He would tell her he was sorry, she would admit that she shouldn't have made him so mad.

Come morning, they would repeat the apologies that seemed almost a rehearsed script.

But for now, he needed time to cool down.

Thank God Hotch was out of town.