A/N I'm back to the world of technology! The one thing I always realize whenever I'm away from the internet is how much I use it, and depend on it. When I'm away from it I end up like an addict denied their fix! But I'm back now and battling the ugly beast known as writer's block! I know where I'm going with the story, it's the how to get there that's causing me issues. But in my experience writing, the best thing for it is just to push through, if I stop writing now I'll end up getting distracted by the hundreds of other ideas running circuits in my head! So I apologize if the next chapter or two are a bit rough, but bear with me, I have a plan! On a side note, woohoo, I've reached 50 followers! Break out the party hats and confetti! o]:-D thank you all for your dedication to this story! Although if you ask me, every follower, favourite, or review is a milestone, but with that many parties I'd run out of confetti too fast!

-Nightshade

I don't own Criminal Minds, if I did; well I'd definitely be making a heck of a lot more money than I do now! (Though I could be employed for minimum wage and still make more than I do now)

What a Difference a Day Makes

Chapter Eleven

In my half-asleep daze, the smell of French toast that was currently wafting through the air reminded me of home. I could picture waking up with my son jumping on the bed, telling me that daddy's made breakfast. But those were the simple days, where Will was pleasant, and Henry was happy, and my work was bearable, and my friends were fine. Some small part of me longed for those days, when my life was plain and easy, when my future was a lighted path, easily followed. And for those brief seconds, in the limbo of sleep and wakefulness, I enjoyed that plain, effortless delusion. Because I knew when I woke I would be slammed with an eighteen wheeler of truth, road kill on the never-halting highway of reality. I realized that Will wasn't making French toast, he never did anymore because he would be too hung over, Henry wouldn't be happy because his mom and dad couldn't say three words to each other without arguing, work wouldn't be bearable because Strauss would be busting my ass because of the plane stunt and eventually, my breaking of the fraternization rules with my co-worker and best friend. Nothing was simple anymore, and life really had a mean sense of humour. All I wanted, all throughout that simple time, was Emily, and now that I had her, everything else in my life was slowly sliding downhill. I finally wrenched my eyelids open, fighting down the pang of worry that stabbed my core when I noticed Emily wasn't lying there beside me. I hauled myself out of bed and down the hall, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes while trying not to step on the cat that was weaving through my ankles as I walked. I found Emily in the kitchen, propped up on a crutch in her one hand, and holding a spatula in the other. To the untrained eye, she looked fine, cheerful even. But me, I was almost constantly surrounded by profilers; I had slowly learned to pick up on certain things. Like how the normally smooth curve of her jawbone was rigid from clenched teeth, or how the delicate curve of her back was strung tighter than a violinist's bow, or how her fingernails, which were once healing, were now bitten and bloody. I walked up to her and placed my hand gently on her shoulder, cringing internally as she flinched away at first.

"Hey, why don't you sit down, I don't want you exhausting yourself." I cautioned, and she reluctantly pulled a barstool beside her and sat.

"Better Doctor Jareau?" she asked sarcastically, to which I gave a sunny smile.

"Much." I sat staring; unaware that the French toast I was suddenly responsible was burning. The smell of the smoke brought me back to reality, flipping them over before they would be too far gone. I internally chastised myself for my carelessness, and was about to make some sort of self-deprecating comment on my cooking with the hope of making Emily smile, when I noticed that she had a faraway gaze in her eyes. She seemed focused on something in the distance, frozen in fear for no reason whatsoever. I reached for her hand to try and bring her back to reality, but the slightest touch to her skin and she latched on, dragging me away from the kitchen as fast as she could go. She threw her battered body to the ground, covering her head as if her life depended on it. Of course she was still holding onto my hand, so I was pulled down with her, my bones protesting at the rough landing. She stared right through me with eyes seized with a primal terror, brown warning beacons.

"Emily, are you alright?" I asked cautiously, noting that she still had the faraway look in her eyes.

"Did I save her? Is she alright?" she demanded, cutting me off at the very end of my sentence, like she wasn't hearing me at all. "Did I save her?" she repeated again. Then it hit me, she's talking about the little girl, she's having some kind of flashback. I reached over, still lying down facing her, and jostled her shoulder, hoping to shake her out of her trance. Her eyes finally focused on me, saw me, and for that second I saw it all wash over her. She buried her head in her arms, distressed sobs tearing free from her throat. I kneeled next to her, rubbing her back gently as she cried, as she experienced it all over again. When she finally sat up, she was speaking in that emotionless, monotone voice again.

"The smell." She stated. It was the smell, the smoky smell that triggered it all.

"I'm sorry." I replied, for what, I wasn't sure, but I was sorry for something, at least that's how I felt. She needed help getting up, the burn scars on her leg making it stiff and hard to move. I finally got her back over to the table, and set a plate of non-burnt French toast in front of her. She ate robotically, not even looking up.

"This was supposed to be for you, I was cooking to say thank you, for last night, and for everything." She whimpered softly, and I squeezed her hand softly. I was about to reply when the shrill tone of my cell phone stole the words straight from my mouth. I gave her an apologetic gaze before picking it up.

"Agent Jennifer Jareau speaking."

"JJ, it's Hotch, we need you in the office now, it'll be for an hour or two tops. You know I wouldn't call if it wasn't urgent." Everything about his voice was apologetic.
"Yeah sure, I'll be there in ten minutes." I snapped the phone closed, seeing Emily's heartbroken face.

"You're leaving me?" her voice held the same apprehension as Henry's had the first time I'd dropped him off at the new babysitter's.

"It's barely an hour, I'm sorry, Hotch made it sound like a real emergency, I'll be back as quickly as possible." I vowed, and to emphasize my point I pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. I dashed into the bedroom, grabbing a pair of slacks, blouse, and heels, and I was out the door. The inside of the BAU was buzzing with activity when I arrived, and I spotted a frazzled Hotch on the opposite side of the bullpen.

"What's wrong?" I dashed up to him, not bothering with any pleasantries.

"There was a security breach, an unsub with a partner who worked here smuggled some employee files out, and now we're all at risk. The media is ripping us to shreds over this, I need you out there, they know who you are, they trust you, and you're the only one who knows how to deal with them." Hotch ordered, and with that information, I rushed out to face the camera-toting vultures. True to his word, in almost an hour and a half we had decent damage control on the incident, and had names for the unsubs. I was just about to leave when Strauss stepped out of her office.

"Agent Jareau, may I have a word with you in my office?" I marched down the hall with a similar feeling to when I was in fourth grade and got called down to the principal's office for hitting Marcus Steiner, the school bully, when he called me weak. I entered Strauss' office carefully, as if the door was booby-trapped.

"Agent Jareau, I've had some concerns about your decision making ever since Agent Prentiss' injury. You've completely crossed the line, commandeering a plane out of the FBI's pocket, demanding vacation time-"

"Agent Hotchner offered it, I never demanded any vacation time." I left out the part of how I probably would have demanded it if he hadn't offered.

"That's beside the point, you have a job here, and Agent Prentiss' state of mind or her health does not take priority over your job." I felt anger simmering in my chest, and I struggled to remain in control.

"With all due respect Ma'am" I suddenly wished I had Emily's ability to make Ma'am sound like the most disgusting word on the planet, "you have no idea of Agent Prentiss' mental status or her health." Her professional tone of voice was irritating me, like Emily's life was less important than balancing our budgets, or increasing our cases solved rate.

"Nevertheless, she's a grown woman, and-" with that snippet of a rebuttal, I exploded.

"She's not fine! She flung herself into a fetal position on the floor because of the smell of burning toast! She needs someone with her, and Agent Hotchner recognized that. Her mother died. She died! She needs time to recover from that! So you can fire me, or write me up for disciplinary actions, or suspend me, but my friend needs me. We're a team Ma'am, and that willingness is what makes us all a good team." I didn't bother giving her time to respond, before turning on my heel and stalking out the door.

"JJ, are you alright?" Spence asked as I passed by him in the hall. I barely bothered muttering an unconvincing "I'm fine" before I was on the elevator, itching to be home with Emily. While driving up to the apartment, I noticed a familiar detective standing out front, and I sighed in annoyance. What was Will doing here? And where's my son?

"Will, where's Henry?" I demanded as I stepped out of the car and into the freezing rain.

"Why he's in the car chere, I'm not a bad parent, I wouldn't neglect him, like you." he slurred. Okay, he calls me a bad parent when he's the one driving his son around while he's drunk. Once I realized that Henry was semi-safe, the slight tunnel vision evaporated, and I noticed the pile of black garbage bags beside Will.

"What's with all the bags Will?" the rain pelted down harder, sending icy droplets to soak my clothes and sting at my skin.

"You wanted to move in with your friend, now I have an excuse to get your crap out of my house. Go, be the knight on a white horse for your poor darling Emily, and do me a favour, leave me out of it." His words stabbed at my heart, but he couldn't mean them right? He's just drunk.

"Will, please, you've been drinking, and we can talk about this later, when you're thinking clearly." My teeth chattered against the cold, and I stepped closer to him.

"No, enough of the later JJ, I'm tired of waiting for you. There's always something more important than me, and I'm tired of it." He swayed unsteadily as he headed back to the car. This was why I never broke up with him, I didn't want to face the feelings of being unloved, I didn't want to feel alone, and it felt good to have someone to come home to, even if he wasn't perfect.

"Will please! I-" he flung me by my arm into the car, my body eliciting a sharp thud as I slammed into the door.

"What were you going to say JJ? That you love me? Stop lying to me; I can't believe you have the gall to tell me that to my face. You don't love me; you don't put the people you love at the bottom of your list of priorities. There's always another psycho killer to stop, or a wounded friend to attend to. So I'm done being the last on your list. I'm taking my son home-"no, he wouldn't have Henry; he was drunk and sure as hell wasn't driving with my son in his car. I pushed Will away, ignoring the repulsive scent of alcohol on his breath, and tugged on the car door. Henry's eyes lit up when he saw me, and he jumped into my arms, making my next move so much easier.

"Mommy!" he cried happily, and I tried my best to cover him with my coat as Will hadn't bothered to bring his. With him clinging to my chest like a baby monkey, I walked away from the car door, and over to the wall of the apartment, grabbing the garbage bags the best I could. When Will realized his son was no longer in the car he lunged after me, growling and screaming like some mythical beast that hadn't been slain by the ancient heroes. I had just made it in the door when he came up behind me, being held back by the doorman

"Don't let him in." I told the doorman, who nodded that he understood.

"Mommy, where are we going?" Henry asked curiously.

"We're going to stay with Aunt Emily for a bit, okay?" I heaved the wet bags into the elevator and down the hall to her apartment. I opened the door, and the mayhem on the other side was something I had not expected at all. I could hear screaming and crashing coming from a far-off room in the apartment. Digging through the bags, I found a makeup case that had been filled with Henry's toy cars, along with his stuffed toy lion.

"Henry, can you play here nice and quiet for mommy?" I asked, greatly relieved when he nodded yes, before zooming the cars around on Emily's hardwood floor like it was a NASCAR stadium. I dashed off after the noise, finding it originating behind a door I had never even seen. I opened it to see the remnants of what used to be some sort of sitting room. There was shattered glass and china from antique plates that used to reside in a now-empty cabinet, picture frames were overturned and shattered, along with a mirror that looked like it had been flung across the room. And standing in the middle of it was Emily, screaming and crying like a madwoman. I knelt down in front of her, silently inspecting the glass cuts on her hands and shins.

"Why?" was all I said, it was all I could muster up when faced with my surroundings.

"I feel powerless! A walk across the room feels like a marathon! Burning food sends me into violent flashbacks! I want to cry all the time! I'm tired, tired of all this, it's too much!" she shrieked, and I seriously hoped Henry couldn't hear. In a weird way it made sense, Emily feels powerless and angry; she needed a way to feel like she wasn't powerless, to release her anger. But still, I vowed that I wouldn't leave this house again. I tried to calm her down while sitting in the eye of the hurricane of detritus, that momentary calm before the storm hit again with full force, knocking you back to where you stared and destroying all the progress you've made. A fitting atmosphere for Emily's condition. As soon as her anger dissipated, her remorse came, begging and sobbing that she was sorry, when she knew she was already forgiven. She was sitting on my lap, her legs wrapped around my waist and her arms around my neck, an oversized version of Henry just moments ago. I wanted to carry her, I did, to pick her up and put her to bed and tell her it would all be okay, but with Henry, and Will, and Strauss, I was juggling so much now, I could barely carry myself around, let alone Emily. But I did, I did because I loved her, and I couldn't bear to leave her. I finally calmed her down and brought her to the bathroom, picking glass out of her unflinching palms before putting her to bed. I walked out to deal with Henry, who came running as soon as he noticed the red stain of Emily's blood on my blouse, fittingly, right over my heart.

"Are you hurt mommy?" he asked, his innocent eyes worried beyond their years.

"No, Aunt Emily hurt herself, it was an accident. She's not feeling well, maybe you can see her tomorrow?" he nodded understandingly, before returning to his spot on the floor, when it hit me. I had no dry clothes for him, they were all at Will's, and I couldn't go back there. I rubbed my eyes out of exhaustion before picking up my cell phone.

"Morgan here."

"Derek it's JJ, I need you to do me a huge favour." I nearly begged. He listened to me rehash the night's events, throwing in the occasional expletive or word of sympathy at appropriate times.

"So what can I do for you Jayje?" he asked readily after my long story.

"I need you to go to Will's and get Henry's stuff, his clothes, some toys, everything you can carry. I'd go back there myself, but I can't, I can't face him, after all that happened today, I cant face Will, and I cant leave Emily-" I gasped, feeling myself hyperventilating as I spoke.

"No problem, just breathe Jennifer, you'll be fine. Do you need me to take the little man off your hands tonight?" he offered kindly.

"No, it's fine, I'll call Pen. She's been begging to spend time with her godson, and she's used to watching him. But thank you for the offer. And Derek?"

"Yes Jennifer?" he asked expectantly.

"If you call me Jennifer one more time that will be your third strike, and you know what happens on the third strike?" I threatened mischievously to try and calm myself down, slip back into a familiar routine.

"No thanks JJ, I don't wanna make the same mistake Phil in Internal Affairs did, bye!" I chuckled at the memory of sending the scrawny man running from my office, but in all fairness, I had given him a warning! I dialled Penelope's number next, and explained the situation, to which she promised to fly by and pick up "her little sugarplum." Derek dropped off the clothes right before Penelope came to get Henry, and they both gave me sympathetic gazes and murmured platitudes before leaving me alone, with the weight of the world still on my shoulders. I crawled into bed with Emily, not even caring I was still wearing the rain-soaked, blood-smeared clothes I had rushed to the office and back in. after checking that she was sleeping peacefully, and wouldn't hear, I curled up on my side, staring out the window at the lights of the city. In the quiet and safety of Emily's bed, with her slumbering safely beside me, I allowed myself to crumble, piece by piece, confident that I could put myself back together by the morning. I cried until my head hurt, until the red and white car lights blended into an amorphous glowing blob, until it didn't hurt anymore, until I was sure I could hold on and stay strong, for everyone else's sake.

A/N holy cow that was long I guess I surmounted the writer's block faster than I expected! I wasn't sure if I wanted to split this up into two chapters or leave it as is, but as soon as I got writing I couldn't stop. I hope you enjoy it! JJ's cracking under the pressure, Emily's getting worse before she gets better, and Will's essentially out of the picture. He was JJ's crutch, and how will she fare now that she's standing all alone, with the weight of her responsibility for everyone around her upon her shoulders, is she strong enough?

-Nightshade