A/N: I have been MIA for a bit. Sorry. I don't know if I will update this story or not. BEWARE of possible character death! Triggers for suicide, and PTSD and some foul language.
You are desperate. That is the only way you can describe the point you are at. Desperate. Desperate to stop what you fear might happen, and right now, you are not even sure you can. She is just too far gone.
So you stand as close to her as you dare, every step comes with extreme caution, knowing that any movement you make at this point could send her over that edge. That proverbial edge that everyone is always dancing around-is now facing you head on.
And it's not an edge. It's a gun. And you know it's loaded.
And it's pointed at your agent's head, with steady hands. Her hands.
Your agent is holding her own gun to her head; and you know she has put one foot over the edge. Right now, you are the only one who can give her a chance, the crisis team has not arrived yet.
It's just you and her. You and JJ.
You have been trained on this, trained thousands of agents, been involved in this hundreds of times- talking down a suicidal client. Yet, you have never been this terrified, this unsure of what to do. It is as if everything you have ever learned, ever taught is gone.
And if anything is left, anything you can try, it won't work. You trained JJ on the exact same protocol. She know's what you are trying to do; so now, you have to throw everything out the window and plead with her.
"JJ, please, put the gun down." You whisper, silently wondering if you should hold your own gun. If it comes to it, you know you can always take a non lethal shot, but you also know JJ is an excellent shot and if she even gets a whiff of what you are doing, the result would be disastrous.
She isn't talking, she isn't responding to you. At all. And that is more frightening than any words she could say. You are not even sure if your voice is reaching her at this point, but you keep trying.
"JJ, it's Hotch." You say softly, cringing as a twig snaps beneath your feet. She jumps at the sound and you know it's too much. Her PTSD is in full force right now, and you know she has become trapped in a flashback.
Those fucking flashbacks, that fucking PTSD. God, you would give anything to cure the disorder, to rid JJ of it forever. You have seen what it has done, and it has forced you to research the disease.
JJ is living in hell. Again.
The event plays over and over and over in her mind with no apparent warning or trigger. She has stopped talking about it, never actually did. And you fear that is where you screwed up by not forcing her to. But the psychiatrist urged you not to, stating that JJ would talk when she was ready. You are seriously considering suing that bastard for all he is worth right now.
"JJ. It's Hotch. It's over and you are safe. You are safe." And that is a lie. She has a gun to her head, held by her own hand. She is far from safe.
You watch as she blinks and takes a step back, you know you are loosing her and your heart drops further into your stomach. She looks almost like the day you and the team rescued her- lifeless.
When you reached her that day- she didn't have a pulse, she had nothing. No clothes, no color, no warmth. Today, it's almost the same, except she does have clothes. Too many for a summer night. But like that night- there is no life. It seems to have left her long ago.
She still isn't responding. So you try another tactic, all the while praying that someone, anyone arrives soon. You know JJ is hanging on by a thread, and every second, that thread is growing thinner.
"JJ." You say her name every time for so many reasons. You said it before the event, and you will continue saying it in hopes she will hear your voice, recognize you saying her name. "JJ, Will called me, he is worried." You pause, trying to shake the phone call from your mind. "He asked me to look for you, he wants you to come home."
That word, that word got a flicker of attention. "Home, JJ. We can go home." She locks eyes with you now and you carefully observe her every movement.
And then, without warning, you see terror flash in her eyes, she shakes her head and steps back again. She thinks you are him, and you are going to hurt her. You watch her finger tremble on the trigger and you have no choice but to pull out your own weapon.
'Please, JJ, do not make me do this.' You think, but you know if you have to, you will. You will shoot your agent.
You realize something, this, this person standing in front of you is not your agent, is not JJ. She is a shell of JJ. You have to treat her right now as if she was nobody, just a random person on the street.
For your own sanity and to give her a chance.
And you raise your gun, and she sees it and again she locks eyes with you. Again.
"JJ, put down the gun." You command her this time, using an authoritative voice.
She does not comply, and closes her eyes.
A single shot rings out. She drops to the ground. And so do you as the crisis team rushes in. Too late.