A/N back again, good to know there's interest in this story. Would have had this up earlier but Christmas got in the way. Thank you to everyone who has favourited/followed this story (Belle869, Cribellate, DVdE91, GottaLoveCM, IniTiniNini, MissyAsh89, MrRizzoli, foxyfeline, ifreakinglovefanfiction, iluvhotchme, kazzyshah, and only tennis) and thanks especially to those of you who review the first chapter- GottaLoveCM, MrRizzoli, TwilightxxShipJassica, foxyfeline, IniTiniNini, TwilightEdessica, Jareau37, kazzyshah, Cheetos78 and Belle 869, your input means the world to me :D
anyways, bit of a setup chapter for you so on with the story
"Are you sure you should be working in the field?" Morgan asks you uncertainly, taking his eyes off the road for just a second to glance over at you. You groan inwardly. You had known that this would come up eventually, you just hadn't expected it to come up so soon, or in a situation that wasn't exactly 'in the field'. You were only going to interview Mr Moore, the husband of the most recent victim. It's not like you were about to go busting down doors or getting into a fire-fight with maniacal unsub.
Family interviews are what you do, they're your thing. And you'll be damned if you have to give that up before you absolutely have to. You can't imagine anything worse than being trapped in the police station for the duration of the case.
"Derek, it's just an interview. It will be fine." You reply with slightly gritted teeth. You don't know why, but his question has irritated you far more than it should. It's probably pregnancy hormones or something. "Trust me when I tell you that it will be better for all involved if I continue to do my job, or at least this part of it, as normal."
Derek just nods, not wanting to push the issue any further for now.
You wonder when your cravings will kick in, and what they'll be. Of course, right now, the thought of any food whatsoever makes your stomach turn; you've been feeling nauseous all morning. You remember your mother saying that she would get sudden cravings for strawberry ice cream with capers in the middle of the night. You hope she was joking.
Before long you pull up outside the Moore residence. Morgan stands just behind you as you knock on the door, mentally preparing yourself for what will follow. After a brief wait, the door opens. Mr Moore is tall African American man in his late forties, who matches Derek in height. He might, at an earlier stage in his life, have matched his physique as well but age has caught up with him. Whilst you think he is still strong, he carries the excess weight that so often accompanies middle age.
He looks tired and stressed, understandably.
"Mr Carlton Moore?" You ask, just to be certain. You failed to ask once, back in the day, and that had backfired massively.
"Yes. How can I help?" He replies. He tries to sound together and obliging but fatigue makes his voice heavy and a little terse.
You smile understandingly, whilst showing him your credentials. "I'm Supervisory Special Agent Jennifer Jareau with the FBI, this is my colleague SSA Derek Morgan. If it's not too much to ask, Sir, we'd like to ask you some questions about your wife. May we come in?"
He opens the door properly and steps aside. "Uh, yes, of course." He says. He leads you through into the lounge but he doesn't sit down. "Can I get you anything to drink? We have tea, coffee, fruit juice, water…" He trails off, seemingly at a loss.
Morgan politely declines his offer but you understand Carlton's need to be doing something, to distract himself from what is going on. Sometimes distracting yourself is all that keeps you in one piece.
"A cup of tea sounds lovely." You reply with a smile. He smiles back at you warmly.
"What kind? I've got breakfast tea, green tea, fruit teas, peppermint tea. There's some of Tania's herbal teas as well but I never did understand why she likes them." He says with a small chuckle. A chuckle that is followed by an expression of guilt. After all, how could he be laughing or smiling whilst his wife was out there all alone, kidnapped by a murderer?
"A peppermint tea would be lovely" You say quickly, before he has time to dwell on it.
He nods and motions towards the couch. "Please, take a seat, I won't be a moment." He walks through the kitchen as you and Morgan sit down.
While you wait, you both scan the room. The walls are covered in family photos. In them you recognise both Mr and Mrs Moore, and their children. There are enough photos from over the years for you to watch their children grow up, picture by picture. There are holiday photos, smiling photos at the beach, on some kind of hiking trip, at Navy Pier in Chicago.
There are photos of Tania with her parents when she was younger, including an old graduation picture. There aren't any images, as far as you can tell, of Carlton's parents. There is an ID badge for Biorad Solutions on the table next to the couch. You remember now that Carlton works for a waste management company based in the city.
You notice a bag of groceries leaning against the table. You must have arrived just after he had returned from a quick run to the store. You pick up the groceries and take them through to the kitchen for him. There are more photos in here, pinned to the refrigerator. You notice one of a lakeside cabin.
Carlton jumps as you set the bag down on the counter, so much so that he spills a little of the tea on his hand. He curses under his breath and runs the burnt skin under the faucet. "I'm sorry." You say, "I didn't mean to startle you." In any other situation you would wonder why the man was so highly strung but right now it's understandable.
"Don't worry about it." He replies easily, "I'm easily startled normally but with this whole mess I'm even worse. Tania hates going to the movies with me because I jump so badly." He smiles and hands you a mug of tea before quickly putting away the two boxes of cereal and pack of yoghurts from the grocery bag. Then he takes his own mug of tea from the counter, from the smell you determine it to be chamomile, and follows you back through the lounge.
You've never been more grateful for a cup of tea. For some reason, the strong smell of peppermint is actually soothing; for the first time today you can feel your nausea beginning abate.
Morgan starts the questioning as you take a sip. It tastes a little bitter but you read online that during the first trimester your taste buds might be a bit out of wack. It doesn't make you feel sick, so you take this as a win.
"Mr Moore, can you think of anyone who would want to hurt Tania?"
"No, everyone loves Tania. I don't understand, I thought the guy who took Tania was the same guy who took those other women?" He replies, confused.
"We believe that to be the case, yes," You reply gently, "but that doesn't rule out the possibility that Tania knew her kidnapper, even if only in passing."
"Did she mention anyone she was having trouble with, maybe someone at work?" Morgan probes.
Carlton shakes his head, he is frustrated and upset. These questions must seem like a waste of time to him. Why are you here questioning him when you should be out there searching for his wife? His reaction is understandable.
"No, not that I know of. Wait, maybe her boss? I think she was having some difficulty at work. She worked a lot of overtime but the company was refusing to pay her? She was very angry about it." He replied.
You're still cradling the mug of your tea in your hands, enjoying the lack of nausea. Peppermint tea may well be your new favourite drink.
"CCTV footage from 3 blocks away shows that Tania was taken just after 9.30 pm last night, was it usual for her to be out at that time?" You ask.
"No but we were out of milk so she went to the grocery store…" He trails off, guilt contorting his features, "Oh God, this is my fault. I should have gone with her. Or gone myself. If I had, she would still be here. She would be okay?" He whispers hoarsely. Tears fall down his face.
You reach out and take his hands. "Don't torture yourself like that. There was no way you could have known. This is not your fault." You say firmly, looking him in the eye. He looks back at you; he doesn't believe you yet, but given time, he might.
The rest of the interview continues in much the same way, coaxing answers from him, although as time passes you feel that damned nausea beginning to build again. You decide that 'morning' sickness is a cruelly inaccurate name. Added to which, you can feel a headache starting to build. Perfect.
Eventually, you thank Mr Moore for his time and take your leave, getting back into the SUV and heading for the police station. The rest of the team are already back at the precinct, drawing up a preliminary profile before heading out to analyse the other crime scenes or interview the families of the other victims.
You are filling the team in on what you learned from Carlton Moore when you begin to feel well and truly ill. You're going to vomit and there's nothing you can do. You finish your sentence, then glance at Morgan, signalling him to take over, then dash for the bathroom.
You barely make it in time to lift the lid of the toilet before your stomach expels its meagre contents. You dry heave a little as the acrid smell invades your nostrils. Breathing heavily, and muttering a few choice curse words under your breath, you hit the flush and turn to the basin to wash your mouth out. Just as you're starting to feel a little fresher, you hear a voice to your left.
"Not much fun is it? This pregnancy lark?" Emily says dryly. You shoot her a look that says 'not helping, Em.'
She smiles apologetically, "Sorry Jayje, it'll get better though." She pauses for a moment. "The team are getting suspicious though, when are you going to tell them?"
You groan. It's not that you don't want to tell the team, but you like that only Em and Derek know- they don't make a fuss or smother you about it. Emily is wonderfully pragmatic, yet supportive, and that's what you love about her. "Well I doubt this little episode has done me any favours in the keeping-it-a-secret department. I suppose now is as good a time as ever." You say reluctantly. You're not exactly overjoyed at the thought of telling them in the middle of a busy police station but at least they won't need to worry about you being ill.
Emily hugs you quickly. "I'm still so happy for you" She whispers, grinning that classic Emily grin.
You both walk back through to the conference room where the team has set themselves up. They all look up at you, concerned, as you enter the room. You look like hell, but instead of talking to them straight away, you make your way to stand next to Morgan and get Garcia up on the screen via video link; you dread to think what kind of cyber hell she would unleash on you if you dared to tell the rest of the team before her.
She starts to tell you that given that Hotch only gave her her orders two minutes ago, calling her now is not going to speed the process along in any way but you interrupt her.
Derek wraps his arm around your shoulder; he knows what you're about to say.
"Guys, I uh… I have an announcement." You say, damn you're so nervous now. Not nervous like you were with Derek this morning but the butterflies are definitely there. You glance at Hotch. His eyes are warm, and just the tiniest bit smug. He knows. You look to Rossi. He looks happy for you, and a little smug. He knows, but he didn't until you started to speak. They look at each other. And then you know. They had a bet on; Hotch had bet that you were pregnant, Rossi had bet that you weren't. You almost laugh in spite of yourself. Of course Hotch bloody knew.
"I'm pregnant" You say. There is dead silence. And then a squeal from the screen that is somewhere between a 'CONGRATULATIONS', 'YAY' and 'OH MY GOD'. You know that Garcia is just dying to hug you, but seeing as she can't, she's doing some sort of happy dance in her lair. You grin at the screen, just as you see Rossi grudgingly hand Hotch a twenty dollar bill.
Reid looks utterly stunned, but gets up and hugs you, saying how happy he is for you and Morgan. Hotch claps Morgan on the shoulder before embracing you and whispering 'congratulations JJ' in your ear. You return the hug and smile widely, though you narrow your eyes at him a little to let him know that you know about his bet. And to let him know that you want a cut of his winnings. He has the grace to look a little sheepish and hands over the twenty dollar bill.
The last to congratulate you is Rossi, who simply hugs you and says 'Congrats kiddo, you two are going to make great parents."
A/N for this happy/fluffy writing, I hope you can all feel the heavy black cloud of angst/tragedy hanging over your head. If you can't, look up, it's there. I'm going to destroy you. As always I love hearing what you think and reviews make me write faster.