A/N

So, I'm halfway through watching season 8, I haven't written Criminal Minds fan fiction until now, I like Blake (though I'm in the minority on that one, it seems), and how she's feeling in this story is pretty much how I'm feeling right now. I think it's called "projection" in psychology. ^^

Alex Blake did not feel well. It was obvious from the way she moved. Usually, she moved with calm entitlement, her walk was something of a slow swagger. Back straight but a relaxed body language, and she was always attentive, participating in discussions even if it was merely through listening and thinking.

But not today. Today she moved with an effort, a slouched almost-limp, and her hands kept wandering to the small of her back and her abdomen, massaging as if she was in pain. To say she was pale was an understatement; her complexion was ashen. Tiny beads of sweat formed on her forehead, just below her hairline. She added nothing to the discussion and barely seemed to be aware of what happened around her. The rest of the team had coffee and snacks, but Blake had left hers untouched, although everyone knew she'd live off cinnamon rolls if she could. It was a good thing they were headed home from a case, and not towards one, David Rossi thought as he glanced at her from across the aisle of the plane. None of them were prone to admitting weaknesses, but Blake was probably the only one who would deny feeling ill until she passed out, and that really wouldn't help on the field.

"Blake? Still among the living?"

Blake didn't hear him. She shifted in her seat, praying she would find some position where it wouldn't hurt so bad, but knowing she wouldn't. It was like wearing a two-inch-wide belt of white-hot pain. She felt like she had been cut open and had her abdomen and lower back stuffed with crushed glass and glowing embers, and then stitched back together with barbed wire. And people said period pains faded with age. Now if that wasn't bullshit, no bull had ever shat. Of course she had forgotten her prescription painkillers back home, and the over-the-counter brands simply did not help.

"Blake? Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

But she wasn't. And all of a sudden she knew with absolute certainty that she would throw up. Not because of nausea, but because of the pain. She slapped one hand over her mouth and rushed to the small bathroom where she tried to be sick as quietly as possible.

"Guess not," Rossi said to the others.

"Man, I hope it's not the stomach flu," Morgan said. "If one gets it, we all will."

"I doubt it. As far as I know, stomach flu does not give back pains. Did she hurt herself on the field?"

"I doubt she'd tell us, but…"

Blake came back out, her face white except for red spots on each cheek, that could be a blush of embarrassment, or fever.

"I'm alright, really," she mumbled and staggered back to her seat.

"No, you're not," Hotch said. "What's the matter?"

"Look, all you need to know is that it's nothing contagious and I'll be fine in a couple of days. I swear. I just need a hot shower, some painkillers of the actual killer-type, and a monster of a scotch, and I'll be human again."

"Ah," JJ said. "That time, huh?"

"Mm-hmm."

"That time?" Rossi echoed, then seemed to hear what he said. "Oh."

"Oh, what?" Reid asked. Morgan and Hotch looked awkwardly at each other and then at their coffee mugs, JJ smirked and Blake hid her face behind her hands, so embarrassed she thought she would begin to cry.

"That time of the month," Rossi clarified. Reid looked completely puzzled and tried thinking of what time of the month it was; one week after full moon, and…

"I have my period, Spence," Blake said, still covering her face with her hands. "Jesus, to think you can keep one secret from your workmates…"

"Not when you work with profilers, Alex," Rossi said and grinned at Reid's beet red face.

"Come on Alex," JJ said. "Let's get away from the boys, they don't understand this anyway."

Blake followed her back to the other part of the room. Morgan mimicked wiping sweat from his brow and heaving a sigh of relief.

"Now that's a topic I don't want to overhear," he mumbled.

"Sit. Back to me," JJ instructed.

"I'm fine. Really."

"Yes, I heard just how fine you were. Those bathroom walls aren't exactly armoured, you know. It hurts about… here?"

Blake winced as JJ's fingers hit the most tender spot in the small of her back.

"Fuck!" she cried out, surprising herself as much as she surprised the rest of the team, who heard it. She wasn't usually one for such expletives.

"Wow, sorry. Guess you're even more sensitive than I am," JJ mumbled soothingly and began to rub circles with her thumbs on each side of her colleague's spine. Blake nearly whimpered with relief as the pain actually withdrew, and she leaned back so that her head rested on JJ's shoulder.

"Oh God, you sure know what you're doing," she moaned. JJ smiled and whispered in her ear;

"I'm very good with my fingers."

Blake did not know if it was a promise for another day - which she hoped - but at the moment it didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was that JJ's hands did what no Aspirin or Tylenol in the world could. Ease the pain.