(Alright! Next chapter! The big confrontation. I hope you all enjoy, please leave a review! Jordon.)
"There can be no progress without head-on confrontation." Christopher Hitchens
Sitting on the couch, Penelope's arms wrapped around me, I frantically search for a way to get this situation under control. My hands shake as I clutch my glass of water to my chest. This entire night has spiraled into disaster. First everyone turning against me at the dinner table, then the stunt I pulled when I tried to leave. I've never fainted from hunger before and I can feel the after effects now. I'm dizzy and nauseous, and my hands and feet are numb. Rossi retrieves an afghan from a hall closet and hands it to Pen. She takes it and wraps me in it before resuming hugging me, rocking us back and forth.
I take another sip from of water before lifting my eyes to look at my coworkers. Hotch is sitting in a large leather armchair, his elbows on his knees, his folded hands covering his nose and mouth. He isn't looking at me, but rather across the room at a large wall clock. Rossi is perched on the arm of Hotch's chair. He is stroking his goatee, his eyes flickering towards me every few moments. Morgan is leaning against the wall near the fireplace. He is not looking at me, his arms folded tightly across his chest. Spence and Emily are both sitting on the fireplace hearth. Her face is pale and drawn, and she is resting one of her hands on Spence's knee. She is gazing at me, eyes full of sadness and fear. He on the other hand will not look at me. His face is in his hands, hunched forward. I can see his shoulders shaking and I realize with a pang of guilt that he is crying. I can hear Pen sniffing and wiping away tears as she holds me and all at once I hate myself. Well, to be fair I've hated myself for a long time. But in this moment I can't stomach the pain I have caused these people, my friends.
"You have to eat something." Hotch's voice is low and serious. Even with how I awful I feel, I don't want to eat. I can't.
"Something small. It doesn't have to be pasta. But something more than salad." Rossi adds.
"Do… Do you have crackers?" My voice is small and hoarse so I take another sip of water. Rossi nods and comes back with a paper napkin and a sleeve of Ritz crackers. I eye them warily. I wish they were saltines instead. They're safer. My mind spits out caloric values. 5 crackers. 79 calories. I can handle 79 calories. I select 5 perfectly round crackers from the plastic wrapping and place them on the napkin. Then I take the rest of them and twist the sleeve up tightly, placing it as far away from me as possible on the coffee table. I look up and meet Emily's eyes.
"Go ahead."
"You are all making a big deal out of nothing." I try to reassure them but I can't find any strength to put behind my words. I sigh and take a cracker. I take a bite, taking care to chew it thoroughly before swallowing. I repeat this over and over until the napkin is bare, spare for a few crumbs. I look around the room, expecting them to look somewhat less tense, if not appeased. They are not. If anything, Hotch's jaw is clenched harder. He lowers his hands and looks at me.
"Do you even realize how dangerous this is? How much you've hurt yourself?"
"Hotch, I told you, everything is getting blown out of proportion."
"Blown out of proportion?" Rossi raises an eyebrow. "You just collapsed in my foyer."
"Okay so I'm overworked. We all are. Things have been really busy and I'm probably dehydrated."
"Or you're starving yourself." Morgan still won't look in my direction.
"I just ate."
"Honey, five crackers doesn't count as eating. It's barely even snacking." Pen folds the blanket closer to my body and I realize I'm still shaking.
"I ate before I came."
"Before you came? To a dinner party where you knew there would be copious amounts of pasta?" asks Rossi skeptically.
"I didn't mean to. I had few pieces of candy and then I ended up pigging out, so I'm not hungry. If anything that's probably why I fainted. My blood sugar is off from all the sweets." The lies flow through my mouth like honey. For the most part I know they don't believe me. But I can't stop. There's a small voice in the back of my mind that cries for me to deny, deny, deny so I can find may out of this confusing mess.
"JJ… stop it. Stop with the lies and the deception and the half truths. Talk to us." Emily's voice is soft and kind, but I can't give in.
"It's not a lie. I mean Hotch you were there when the EMT told me my blood pressure was low. This is probably related."
"Of course it's related, JJ!" I squeeze my eyes shut as Hotch loses his composure. He comes to his feet addresses me with his arms outstretched."You're starving yourself, and you have been for months. And what's worse is you were in the field while you were doing it! You had direct contact with an unsub and you could have been seriously hurt. What if, in your weakened state, you wouldn't have been able to hold your own against him and he had injured you or even gotten away."
Now my own anger begins to rise. "If you can remember Hotch, I was injured. But I took him down anyway." I shrug off Pen's embrace and stand up to face him. "You call this weak? This is strong! Do you think you can be weak and survive on less than 500 calories a day?" I hear a quiet, horrified gasp from behind me but I don't care. "No! You have to be strong! It takes strength to run three miles on a basically empty stomach. It takes strength to be constantly offered disgustingly fattening food and turn it down time after time. But sometimes you have to because that's what it takes to be the best." I now turn to address Morgan, my hands clutching the afghan around my shoulders. "I'm sorry but some of us can't eat whatever the fuck we want and stay in great shape. You think I don't want that? Of course I do! I wish more than anything I was like the rest of you but I'm not!" As I speak the words I feel the anger fall from my body, replaced by exhaustion and loneliness. My eyes fall on Emily, her eyes shining with unshed tears. I turn my head and see Rossi and Hotch. Their faces are both completely blank, shielding me from what's going on inside their heads. My eyes are hot and itchy with tears and I realize my head is pounding so I sit back down on the couch.
"I'm not like the rest of you. I'm not a natural at getting inside the unsub's mind. I'm not built like a warrior or tech savvy or a boy genius or naturally beautiful and intelligent. So I have to try harder." I swallow thickly, trying to stop the tears from running down my face but I fail. "I'm just trying to be my best." I finish lamely.
"JJ you are a natural with unsubs. You wouldn't be on this team if you weren't. And maybe you don't kick down doors or read 20,000 words a minute, but that's not what we need from you. We need someone who is good at speaking to families and loved ones and finding a connection to build trust. We need someone who knows how to interact with the media in the exact way necessary to lure out an unsub. We need you." Hotch speaks clearly and quietly.
"And JJ you are beautiful." Penelope whispers. "You are like a ray of sunshine to everyone who meets you. But right now you're not shining."
"She's right. I can't even begin to count the times I have wished I were more like you. I wish I had your confidence, your sense of humor, your awesome hair," Emily tried to smile but couldn't quite make it. "You never needed to change."
The room is quiet for a moment. I open my mouth a few times but find I have nothing to say. So I cry instead, the hot tears snaking their way down my cheeks, one after another, so fast I don't bother to wipe them.
"What do you weigh?" she asks.
The question scares me because I know that the answer will horrify them even though it still fails to satisfy me.
"105 pounds." I finally whisper.
The silence is deafening. Emily's mouth falls open and she stares at me in shock. Derek covers his face with his hand and Hotch sits back in his chair.
"Do you remember-" Spence clears his throat, his voice shaky with tears. "The day you told me you weren't an addict? You assured me that you were fine, that you weren't addicted to anything." He finally looked up, his tear stained eyes seeking mine. "Can't you see that this is just an addiction with a different name? No, you're not hiding empty bottles or injecting yourself with dilaudid, but you ARE an addict. An eating disorder is an addiction. A way to fill the hole and numb the pain without ever having to admit that it is there."
"JJ we can't watch you die. I won't." Morgan adds in after a moment. "You have to face this. And defeat it." I understand what they are saying. I can feel the love and affection pressing in on me. And part of me wants to give in. I am so tired of fighting this war. But then I think about what that entails: all the food that I would have to eat, the weight I would gain, seeing the number inch its way back up. And I can feel the panic pressing inside my body, trying to escape through my skin.
"No." I finally whisper. "I can't. I've worked so hard to get here and I'm almost close to being perfect. I can't give it up."
"Does this… disease really mean that much to you Jen? You can see how painful it is for us to watch you kill yourself and you won't stop?" Rossi asks. His face is lined with disappointment.
"I'm sorry I can't… I'm so sorry." And I mean it. I am sorry.
"Does it mean more to you that your job?" Hotch asks, his voice low. My entire world seems to freeze then shatter. I can see Morgan and Emily's heads whip around to look at Hotch.
"What?"
"Your job, JJ. Does this absurd quest for the unattainable mean more to you than the career you've built at the FBI, helping people and keeping our nation safe?" I stare at him. He can't. He won't. He stands and walks closer to the couch, adopting an official sort of voice."Agent Jareau, I'm placing you on temporary leave of absence, effective immediately. You will not be permitted back in the office or out in the field until I have written testament from both a medical doctor and a psychiatrist that you are healthy enough to do this job." He crouches next to me, looking up into my eyes. His voice softens. "Your job will be here when you get back. But first you have to stop this." And just like that, he left through the front door.
(Oh man. What do you think? Leave a review!)