Note: very Jemily - unfortunately ffn won't let me tag two different ships with the same character and Emily Prentiss has lots of sexual / romantic tension...
JJ stands at the window of their hotel room with her arms wrapped around herself, looking out at the Eiffel tower and the lightening sky, the earliest commuters starting to emerge onto the street. It almost doesn't feel real – the postcard perfection of the image, and Emily behind her on the bed, somehow alive but maybe never coming home…
Emily sits on the bed behind her, fidgeting with the neckline of her sweater. She wants to say something, anything, to make this moment less sad, but she can't. JJ is leaving tonight, and then she won't be Emily Prentiss. Maybe never again. She closes her eyes against the tears, pressing her fingers hard against Doyle's brand as if she can make it disappear. Her throat tightens so much it hurts, but she doesn't want to cry again.
"You know, my sister always wanted to come here…" JJ says softly, without turning around. "She used to talk about it all the time. Then she stopped, like the future just disappeared for her, and I didn't even think about it…"
Emily feels a whole new wave of sadness sweep over her. JJ has woken Emily up in the night numerous times crying about her sister, and she always talks like this – like she should've known somehow, or been able to stop her. Now she's going to wake up without her. Emily gets up, wraps her arms around JJ's waist and buries her face in her shoulder. "I'm sorry," she says, and hopes JJ understands. She's sorry about JJ's sister, of course, but also about hijacking Paris for her, and for leaving her alone.
JJ folds her arms over Emily's, wraps her hands around her wrists and holds her there. "Don't be sorry, Emily," she says quietly. She turns round, holds Emily at arm's length by the shoulders – Emily holds her gaze, looking sad and afraid and in pain. "We'll find him," JJ says. "We'll find him and get him and then you'll come home. I don't want you to spend your time here feeling guilty about this."
Emily's hands come up to JJ's waist, the soft curve warm under her palms as she steps closer – JJ's arms settle around her shoulders and they smile sadly at each other, faces an inch apart. "I don't want you to feel guilty either. No matter what happens, in Paris or DC or Afghanistan, you're making the only calls you can, and you're doing a good job. You hear me?"
JJ feels a clench in her chest, drops her gaze down to Emily's feet, and when she looks back up her vision is swimming with tears. Emily's hands tighten on her waist, pull her closer, and when their lips meet her tears spill over. Emily wipes them away, kisses her again, lightly, then takes her hand and pulls her toward the bed. They lie down, wrap themselves around each other as close as they can get and finally, after weeks of planning and holding it together and reassuring each other, let themselves feel the approaching loss.