It began with the simplest of things. Keeping secrets gets tiring, you know, and anyone who's kept a secret for as long as this is bound to lose their magic, concealing touch. Emily Prentiss- queen of compartmentalization, patron saint of hiding things- had gotten sloppy. Not so sloppy that just anyone could look at her and understand the chaos, of course, but sloppy enough that the well-trained eye could notice a few… anomalies.
Perhaps there never would have been a problem had one Ms. Jennifer "JJ" Jareau not become such a damn good profiler. And perhaps there never would have been a problem had that same woman not grown up with background experience in all things self-destructive and morbid, courtesy of her late sister. We can ruminate on "what if"s forever, of course, but that would be wasted breath, because there was a problem.
It was one of their infamous Girls' Nights Out. JJ, Emily, and Penelope, all feeling much too overwhelmed from work to bother with a bar scene, gathered around a corner booth in a small, dim coffee shop: JJ and Emily side-by-side, with Penelope across the table. The shop was well-heated by air vents and candles, and so despite the frigid temperature of the outside world, JJ and Penelope had shed their coats and scarves, and sat with sleeves pushed up past their ankles. Only Emily kept the sleeves of both her blouse and sweater pulled down over her hands, feigning a chill. This, JJ noticed with only a passing interest, and no trace of concern- in fact, the only word her mind could spare on the topic was, "Huh."
The night wore on, and thank goodness this particular coffee shop catered to late workers and insomniacs, for surely the girls would have been kicked out long ago in any other shop. Penelope scampered up to the counter in search of more tea, while the other two women sipped their coffee silently- until a gaggle of strangers from the street threw the door open, and the loud noise and sudden rush of cold air startled JJ and caused her to jump about three feet in the air, knocking her coffee over in the process. The hot liquid rapidly spread across the table and seeped through Emily's sleeves, and she, too, jumped: "Christ!" Emily near-shouted, grabbing napkins and blotting at her sleeves.
"Em, I'm so sorry! You'd think, for an FBI agent, I'd be less jumpy, huh? Here, give me your arm, I'll help-"
"No!" shouted Emily, the panic in her voice virtually palpable in the air. They looked at each other for only half a second, until JJ's inquisitive eyes left tears to well up in Emily's defensive. "I mean," the brunette added, clearing her throat, "no, it's fine. I can handle it." And so she blotted at her sleeves until they were dry, but slightly sticky, and she did not look up until she felt JJ's stare soften.
Here Penelope bounded back to the table, setting her chai down gently and sliding back into the booth. "What'd I miss, lovebugs?"
Emily fast answered, "Nothing, except JJ being a bit of a clutz…" and shot a teasing look toward her blonde companion in the hopes of easing the tension. JJ responded with a small smile, and quickly eased back into conversation, but she could not stop the proverbial gears from turning in the back of her mind: of course such a small occurrence is not enough to launch a slew of suspicions into her mind, but JJ briefly thought back on Emily's past behavior- she never changed in front of JJ when they shared a hotel room, nor allowed an article of clothing to stray out of place, nor joined the team on their occasional summer beach trips… but long sleeves had never been such an issue. The blonde elected to move on, think no further on it, but store this incident away in the back of her mind should more suspicions be aroused.