Title: Of Drugs and Dance Floors
Chapter: 2/3
Author: Scarlet
Pairing: JJ/Reid
Rating: FRM (FRAO by third chapter)
Warnings: Slightly angsty/dark, hurt/comfort, het, mature content, mentions of substance abuse, language.
Summary: See title.
Word Count: 2,649
A/N: Wow, I was completely overwhelmed by the wonderful feedback I received for the first chapter, so I hope this lives up to the high expectations, and thanks to everyone who reviewed, it makes it all worth it! Also, this is not so much a case-based fic as it is a character exploration of JJ and Reid, set somewhere post-Gideon, pre-WGA strike.
Disclaimer: Seriously, nothing contained herein would ever happen--ever-- it's just for fun, I own nothing.


There was blood everywhere.

The weak florescent light reflected off a series of metal tables and various tools hanging from the walls, all partially coated in splatters of deep crimson.

Luckily, the only fresh blood appeared to be that pooling on the tiled floor beneath the Unsub.

A knee to the groin, some basic self-defence techniques and a single shot to the leg had been enough to take him down. Now JJ stood in rigid shooting posture over him, feet shoulder-width apart, back straight, gun aimed to kill.

Though he was on the ground against the wall with his hands clasped tightly to his wound, he didn't cower under her deadly serious glare or the perfectly level firearm pointed at him. Instead a cocky smirk fell upon his lips and his tongue slid across them, as he slowly looked her up and down.

She couldn't quite suppress the shudder that evoked.

A sickening moment of déjà vu hit her as she felt the all too familiar stickiness of blood beneath her high heel, and she could have sworn she heard dogs barking beyond the door.

The growling grew until she was certain she was losing her mind, then a loud thump suddenly impacted the door and an irrational fear filled her, spreading like ice along her spine.

Her breath quickened.

For a moment she was back in that barn, cornered, surrounded by bloodthirsty animals. No way out.

Only this time she wasn't sure if good would conquer evil, if there were enough rounds left in this gun to survive, if the dogs wouldn't reach her first.

At the subtle shifting of the Unsub on the floor, she snapped back to reality just as quickly as she had abandoned it, attention instantly returned to him as she again shouted "Freeze!" with all the valour she could muster.

Before she could even think to turn around again, she heard the wood frame of the door give way and the crash of the door itself as it hit the ground, followed by the most reassuring sound in the world, a beautiful chorus of familiar voices--

"Agent Jareau?"

"She's in here!"

Relief swept over her.

The few short minutes between having been on the dance floor and being trapped in a room with a madman had felt like an eternity drenched in fear and adrenaline, but now the world seemed to jerk forward suddenly, leaving her behind; dizzy and breathless.

A flurry of motion stormed the room and with the added firepower now in play, the Unsub sank back against the wall in submission.

In a show of perfect synchronization, Morgan and Rossi secured the Unsub, Hotch called for a medic and Spence ushered in the back-up that had been waiting patiently down the street most of the night. Emily was the first to reach her yet again, placing a calming hand on her shoulder as JJ lowered the gun.

"JJ, are you okay?" Emily gently asked, in a tone she usually reserved for her personal life.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine," JJ lied, immediately reviving her trademark composure and putting on her best attempt at a sincere smile.

Emily nodded and looked around, seeming to just notice her surroundings. "Whoa," she mumbled, clearly struck by the gruesome crime scene that may have once been a simple storage area or office.

"Yeah," JJ conceded.

"Looks like we got him after all," Rossi commented with a grin. As an apparent afterthought he added, "Remind me never to cross you."

"Nicely done Agent Jareau." She couldn't help but feel a small swell of pride at Hotch's words and the quick pat on the back as he followed Rossi and Spence out of the room.

She watched the minutes rush by her at an unyielding pace, standing shock still in the center of the room, engrossed in the seemingly random pattern of blood splatter on the walls and going through the motions of participation when required.

Sometime later Prentiss turned up at her side again. "Come on, let's get some air," Emily suggested, after JJ had offered a brief statement. They left the crime scene and Unsub to the capable hands of the officers quickly pouring in.

"Damn Jayj, you really kicked some ass back there." Morgan grinned widely as the two girls walked out into the chilly night air. The black asphalt was slightly damp from rain.

"Learned from the best."

"That's my girl."

"You sure you're okay?" Emily asked once more, presumably for good measure.

"Really, I'm fine-- We caught the guy, that's all that matters."

"His name is Timothy Hainsbury," Hotch noted as he walked toward them. "He was working as the janitor for room and board."

Somehow she couldn't care less what his name was. The cold fear and panic she experienced in the brief moments she had been alone with him was quickly evolving into righteous anger as the adrenaline wore off.

"Oh, here," she remembered, handing the .35mm to Hotch who was standing just outside the exit, "it's his. He used it to get me off the dance floor then made the mistake of putting it down." When his brow furrowed she asked, "What is it?"

Spence piped up from beside Hotch, apparently following his train of thought, "Sadists rarely use guns-- they're not intimate enough to glean satisfaction from. I'm surprised he broke profile."

"This case has been full of surprises," Hotch deadpanned. "The local police can take it from here, let's go home and leave the paper work for Monday," he suggested, much to the shock and exaltation of the team.

Everyone was in high spirits from a job well-done. They won. Justice prevailed. This was success, she reminded herself. She should be thrilled.

The club doors opened swiftly behind them to reveal two emergency response personnel pushing Timothy Hainsbury out on a stretcher.

He blew her a kiss as they rolled him past.

She thought she might throw-up from revulsion.

Memories of the night began to resurface with a vengeance.

His hands on her waist as he danced behind her.

The balmy exhales of his breath as he whispered into her ear.

Those smug, arrogant lips pressed against her neck before he led her off the dance floor-- gun in hand, yet not one single person on the floor took notice of the plea in her eyes.

The unexpected pain of sudden impact when he slammed her against the door, stealing her breath, after having dragged her inside the room.

And his weight pressed into her to keep her still as he reached over and locked the door while uttering the dare, "Scream for me."

She jumped involuntarily when Morgan placed a hand on her shoulder, instantly regretting the unconscious act. His initially playful eyes flooded immediately with concern.

She loathed the thought of explaining herself, so smiled and tried to laugh it off, "God Morgan, been practising your stealth?" But the laugh came off more nervous than intended and she knew he wouldn't be deterred for long. Damn profilers.

"I have to deal with some loose ends before we leave, it will just take a second," Hotch informed them and nodded for Morgan to join him. He sighed resignedly but obeyed, shooting JJ a glance though she purposely didn't meet his gaze. She thanked any deity that would listen for the distraction Hotch had provided.

The two of them crossed the parking lot and approached an officer who was looking rather amused as he leaned against his car.

For some reason there was a man slumped in the backseat. "Don't even ask," Emily warned with a smirk as she walked over to join Hotch and Morgan.

With the rest of the team currently preoccupied, JJ took the opportunity to try and get herself together.

Deep breaths only fuelled her frustration and rage.

By the time the area had mostly cleared and the team had settled the more pressing matters, she had her game-face back on. It was a shaky control, certainly temporary, but it was there and she prayed that it would last long enough to get her home.

Tired, the BAU team neglected the pleasantries of departure and separated wordlessly into the groups they had driven in with. Hotch, Rossi and Emily in one SUV. Spencer, Morgan and JJ in the other.

"You want me to take the wheel?" Morgan offered, heading toward the driver's side.

"No, I don't mind," she insisted.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Because it's okay if you--"

"I can drive," she said, a little harsher than she intended.

"Yes ma'am," Morgan surrendered, getting into the backseat, evidently afraid to further incur her wrath.

When the car was loaded, with Spence next to her and Morgan behind, she turned on the radio to discourage unnecessary conversation and took another deep breath to prepare herself for the hour long drive ahead.

Driving distracted her for a while as she had hoped, but her thoughts inevitably wandered from the monotony of the road to the events of the night.

Even Spence had lust in his gaze tonight, she mused-- something she'd never expected from him.

At the time it was strangely thrilling to think that maybe the untouchable, distant-genius, Dr. Reid could be interested.

She'd glance up and catch him staring. He'd blush and look away. She'd dance a little more sensuously than before. He would watch her again.

The cycle would continue until it became a game for her, keeping her sane and grounded, connected to someone she trusted unconditionally by an invisible lifeline, making the rest of the dance floor seem empty compared to the depth of his gaze. Then she could almost ignore the drunken men invading her personal space with their over-zealous hands and shameless intentions.

She knew deep down that she was being unrealistic, allowing her mind to counteract the discomfort of the situation with rampant thoughts of possibilities and optimism. They had gone to a Redskins game together once, and frequently went out for coffee, but never as anything more than friends.

After all, a nice guy like Spence simply wasn't the type to be interested in her.

But tonight, she saw something in the way he looked at her that was different.

Different from how he usually looked at her.

Different from how anyone had ever looked at her before, and she couldn't quite place a name to that difference, though she knew intuitively that she wanted to see it again.

Now of course, she saw that had been wishful thinking, and was certain she had misjudged the significance of that look. Maybe it was no more than the lust of every other stare she seemed to warrant from the men on the dance floor.

Maybe it meant nothing.

Besides, the last time her eyes had sought him out--filled with sudden panic at the unmistakable feel of a gun pressed discreetly against her spine--he wasn't there. The lifeline was broken and there was nothing she could do but drift away into the dark waters that lay beyond his reach.

Looking in the rear-view mirror she saw that Morgan had fallen asleep. She risked a glance at the seat next to her.

Spence was staring out at the night beyond the window, lost to everything around him.

His shoulders were tense and he was unconsciously biting his bottom lip while clenching and unclenching his fists nervously. He was practically vibrating in his seat.

She found his behaviour suspicious. After Tobias, she wondered if he had fallen further than anyone allowed themselves to think, but dismissed her worries with the reassuring argument that Spence, of all people, knew how to take care of himself and would likely be offended by any lack of faith on her part.

JJ had seen this job destroy people. Elle was the first to crack under the pressure. Gideon, who had lasted longer than any of them could hope to, even had to leave in the end to pick up the pieces of his life that this job had eventually shattered.

Seeing that same potential in Spence, after all that he had survived at such a young age, was unnerving and disheartening.

Five innocent young women died at the hands of Timothy Hainsbury, their blood coating the walls.

He'd be locked up eternally, but there would still be more Unsubs to chase.

Predators and prey.

There would always be more victims, more killers, more files flooding her desk and more death overwhelming her senses.

She could feel her righteous anger slowly twisting into the hopeless, crushing despair that she had been trying so hard to repress for so long now.

This, she simply could not allow. Not now. Not yet.

Instead she let the anger fill her, because anger she could handle.

She hated today's Unsub.

She hated yesterday's Unsub, and surely she would hate tomorrow's Unsub as well.

But mostly she hated herself for losing control, for letting the fear engulf her, for showing the weakness beneath her carefully constructed armour.

How could she be so stupid as to entertain the idea of Reid's genuine interest in her and allow herself to be distracted, letting that sick bastard get an advantage over her? This wasn't high school. Life wasn't a fairytale. There were no happy endings, only desire and temporary gratification. Abstract concepts like love could only make her weak.

JJ refused to be weak. She was in control, and she was tired of struggling to keep her head above the water.

Having been lost in thought for the better part of an hour, JJ nearly missed the turnoff to Morgan's house but managed to cut across traffic just in time.

The blare of angry car horns roused Morgan from his sleep and JJ watched in the mirror as he hastily checked to make sure his seat-belt was secure while cursing under his breath. Reid didn't even notice.

Minutes later she pulled into the driveway and Morgan got out, all limbs still intact, and said goodnight. He looked like he was about to say more, but seemed to change his mind and walked off in search of the soft bed waiting for him inside.

Her place was farthest across the city, so the obvious next stop would be Reid's. She pulled back onto the main highway.

An array of maudlin love songs were clawing their way out of her radio, something she had hadn't noticed until now but refused to entertain any longer since the immediate need to drown the possibility of conversation had passed.

She turned off the radio.

The rest of the drive was painfully quiet.

They didn't talk.

She seethed.

He fidgeted obliviously.

By the time they reached the exit leading to her next destination, JJ had a plan.

She sped up. They missed the exit. Reid didn't even blink.

Before long she pulled up to her own apartment complex, parked and killed the engine.

This seemed to finally snap him out of his daze. In a brief moment of coherence he turned, confusion written across his features. He moved to question her, but the look she offered seemed to be enough to stop all words from forming.

She finally broke eye contact and took the keys out of the ignition.

It was time to embrace drowning.

"Come on, I want to show you something," her voice was barely above a whisper.

"JJ... I-I really just need to get home," he insisted, sounding desperate and more than a little bit confused.

"Come on," she repeated, leaving no room for argument as she got out of the car taking the keys with her.

Her heels clicked lightly on pavement wet from rain and reflecting the golden iridescent glow of the streetlights. She walked slowly toward the moonlit apartment building, leaving him in the car alone with no other option than to follow after her.