He who can reach a child's heart can reach the world's heart
Sitting across from JJ on the plane home from Denver, Emily glanced out the window. There was extra space inside her now. This, indefinable emptiness she could not fill or put words to. It just existed.
That's what happened when Emily allowed herself to hope. She was left with a cavernous, empty place inside. Because she couldn't stay silent anymore, and couldn't stand thinking about Carrie, who would no doubt experience a lifetime of therapy, medication or both after witnessing her parents' murder, and nearly being killed herself, Emily spoke.
Emily had never been the type to particularly want children. She had never really wanted to be a mother. When she allowed herself to think more deeply on the matter, she knew it was because the 15-year-old part of her was still living guilty, telling her she didn't deserve to be a mother, because a mother gives life, she doesn't take it away.
"Tyler...I just don't know..." she mused, thinking of the other boy in the house where their unsubs were raised as children. Where they had been tortured and starved.
JJ shook her head. "I can't imagine..."
Emily kept her voice down for Derek's benefit - because she knew these cases were tough on him, in a way that was different from the rest of them. "I have no idea what's going to happen to them... I mean, how will they trust again?"
"I don't know," JJ said, bewilderment showing too clearly in her eyes. "But, you wanting Carrie... That was... I mean... I wouldn't have minded taking Tyler."
Emily said nothing, just raised her eyebrows, a little shocked.
"I like a challenge...and he deserves a chance," JJ said softly. "He's a good kid."
"Hopefully now, they'll have that opportunity..." Emily said softly. She shuddered. "The sight of him with a gun, though. There isn't a whole lot that gets to me, but that? Arming a child with the hope that they'll kill for you?"
JJ nodded, staring into Emily's eyes. Sadness, relief and anger warred there.
"You really wanted her, huh?" JJ asked sympathetically. JJ was well-versed in avoidance because she practiced it regularly. Still, she felt like Emily might need to talk about it, and was just holding off, or closing up because it hurt too much.
"Yes," Emily said simply.
Reaching across the seats to grasp Emily's hand, JJ squeezed. "It would have meant a lot to her, to know someone cares so much..."
Emily stared out the window silently, blinking tears back. Then, she let out a breath, and with it, her resolve.
She let the tears fall. Let herself feel hurt and lost on behalf of all the kids who were hurting and lost.
When JJ moved to the seat beside her, Emily pretended not to notice. Their hands, though, remained clasped - their fingers interwoven - a simple comfort. A simple connection.
With her face still turned away, Emily squeezed the hand in her own. JJ returned the gesture, open case files in her lap. It was the thing Emily admired about JJ...that she knew just how much to give without giving too much...and without short-changing someone.
That's what she needed.
And JJ was that kind of friend.