A/N: I wrote this while listening to Little Do You Know by Alex & Sierra. Now, for the real news. On my hiatus, I sort of.. Well, lost interest in everything. I realized that the YouTube fandom (Zoella, Marcus Butler, Ricky Dillon, Jenna Marbles, etc.) was a lot more fun and interesting. If you're into YouTube, maybe check out my Twitter, cuddlesuggs? Haha. Anyhow, lucky for you, I have not lost ANY interest in fanfiction WHATSOEVER. I wrote this when I was in a Jotch (af) mood, so enjoy this little one-shot. Let me know if I should add on. Review. :)
Jennifer Jareau, the rather furtive and stubborn blonde, sat in her new (old) office, hoping she wouldn't get a paper cut as she flipped through what seemed like the endless stack of files on her desk.
Hotchner had agreed to giving her back the office, as she'd been diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and needed time to calm herself when local cases became hard. Of course she was happy in her office, but that was half of the problem. Her office held so many memories. She didn't like remembering. It hurt her in parts of her body she didn't think could even be emotionally effected.
Her stomach dropped as she ran her finger along the wooden picture frame that held pictures of Ros and her. The woman's fingers shook slightly as they slid further and further down the material. She hadn't fully dealt with it, and every time she was reminded of it, the pain and torture only got worse. She still looked up to the moon at night, despite how silly it made her look. Her worries made her head pound and her heart ache.
Jennifer swallowed thickly as she moved her finger to the rest of the waiting papers. Aaron Hotchner told her that whenever she were feeling panicky, there would be files in his office ready for her to go through. She'd gone through at least three quarters of the files by now, which would be a swelling indicator for Hotch that she was having problems.
Her hand hadn't yet moved from her necklace that hung around her neck, as she held it tightly between her fingers. It wasn't normal to cry at night when you had your husband and son in the house. It wasn't normal to be a put together FBI agent with PTSD. It wasn't normal to be cooped up inside of your office crying over something that could've and should've been dealt with 25 years ago.
She could barely focus by the time she spotted her boss, Aaron Hotchner, standing at her door. A faint smile inhabited her lips as she invited him in. He made an awkward side shuffle as he closed the door, sealing and securing the office from the busy workspace in the bullpen.
"Is there something I can get you? I finished these, and these are half done, I've got a few more of these ones to go over, and I'll have them ready to go." She said, pointing to different sets of files. For a moment, she'd almost forgotten about what was bothering her, until she felt Hotch's large, yet gentle hand rest upon hers.
"No, actually, I came to see how you were doing."
JJ looked into his eyes, taking in the colouring of them. Never before had she seen such a beautiful shade of auburn. He gave her a small smile as he pulled his hand away and rested it in his lap.
"I'm.. Fine.. Just tired, that's all."
His eyes half glazed over, it seemed like. He knew she didn't have a valid excuse as to why she was acting this way. He knew this was either the PTSD, or an event that's happened recently.
"I'm.. I'm sorry for mentioning suicide the way I did. I had to, for the case, but I could see the look in your eyes, and I couldn't help but regret it. I upset you, JJ, I'm sorry."
The man eyed her with respect and sorrow, a beautifully tragic mix. He watched as her eyes became misty and unclear as she bit her bottom lip.
"You had to..." She breathed, "it's part of the job."
His hand rested on hers again as he took a breath.
"Making you hurt isn't part of the job. It breaks my heart to see.. Anyone hurt, but you, JJ.. You, seeing you hurt makes me want to cry. I don't want to think I'm the cause for your pain, so I really am sorry."
JJ smiled as the tears began to escape her eyes.
"Uhm, 25 years ago, today, Ros committed suicide. And, 25 years ago, tomorrow, little 11 year old me will break down in the bathroom.. Right after I scream in shock over the sight of her bleeding body."
Before she could finish, she was in Hotch's arms. He couldn't stand it anymore. Seeing her cry and hearing her choked words made him hurt more than anything he'd witnessed in a long time. He knew it was rather inappropriate in a whole sense, but in this situation, he knew stroking her hair would comfort her.
"I don't want you to be afraid of grief, Jayje. I want you to cry over your sister, just like I did over Haley. I want you to know that, all those times I came to your office, crying, after Haley died.. It was normal. I found comfort in you. You need to grieve. You need to find comfort and begin to heal. I need you to promise me that you'll begin to heal. I don't like seeing you hurt."
JJ nodded faintly as her sobs became more evident and choked. She had adjusted to the speed of which he rocked her back and fourth, attempting to soothe her. Sure, it didn't have the same effect as when Will would cuddle her in bed, but it stopped her from being alone, like she had been all those years. And, if it stopped her from hurting, that was all that mattered.
A/N: Aw. Look. Crying. Emotions. Feelings. JJ. Hotch. Office. Table. I'm horrible at writing now, but hopefully, I get better. Leave your reviews, please! Xx