Author's Note: This chapter was written whilst listening to Vindicated by Dashboard Confessional, hence the title. (FYI, that is a great song and you should all go listen!) If JJ's efforts seem somewhat futile in certain parts; they're supposed to. Mostly because she isn't going to get it right the first time, but also because she still has a long way to go; and, whilst three months are crammed into this chapter, I didn't want to resolve everything in one chapter. Does that make sense? Anyway, I'm really excited about the next update, and if I can tweak it to perfection tonight, you will get it tonight. As always, let me know what you think and thank you to everyone who does so with every chapter - you keep me motivated! On with the story...

Author's Note 2: Also, let me know if the timeline of this update is difficult to understand and I will try my best to fix it. It's difficult to include such an abundance of information that spans over a long period of time in just one chapter, but I didn't want to leave out Emily's side of the equation because I think her thoughts and feelings are just as important as JJ's.

Chapter Eleven: Vindicated

The remainder of that first Monday had been a joke. It was nothing but naivety that had caused JJ to truly believe that she could fix any of this by extending a meager olive branch of a coffee – naivety that was soon crushed when Emily simply took the beverage from her, stood and walked over to the sink in the break room to dump out the contents. And as vacant brown eyes stared through her, JJ had watched on with a subtle, sad, child-like frown; trying to keep ahold of any external nuances in a room full of profilers whilst at the same time desperately attempting to remind herself of Garcia's words of wisdom - this was going to take more than a cup of coffee and what she was now painfully certain the brunette saw only as a deceitful smile.

Day two hadn't been much better, and neither had her home life. That naivety really was taking a hit. Of course, on the surface, her and Will were getting along fine; but to a profiler, to her, it was clear that they were far from fine. There was a brief smile when she walked through the front door, and a genuine smile as they both, together, put Henry to bed. But as soon as they left his room, there were eyes that refused to look at her, a tension that told her that the man whom she had lived with for four years no longer knew how to act around her, an almost silent but not quite sigh each time he avoided the couch upon which he knew that she had given herself over to another.

And it was almost a week before JJ meandered away from her naivety and replaced it with something else: self-pity. It had lasted barely a day, and was quashed by a few brutal truths from Garcia and Emily's almost mocking words as she had cornered her in the restroom and tried to force conversation: "Aww.. is Jennifer Jareau's perfect life not so perfect anymore? Isn't that sad."

Yes, it was sad. It was devastating. How could she have so many genuine feelings for this woman and have hurt her so much that she would be so cruel? Emily had never been cruel to her any one of the days that she had known her. She had always been comforting, reassuring, loving, caring.. Until that day. But those cruel words that she had heard that morning were nothing compared the coldly spoken words of, "We had our fun, Jennifer, and now it's over. We are colleagues and nothing more. Accept that," that were directed at her before that day was out after she had tried, and failed, once again to coerce Emily to speak to her.

But this was not over.. This wouldn't be over until Emily told her that she 100%, definitely did not want anything more to do with her; and even then she'd fight. She'd fight because she knew herself that fear was a powerful emotion; one that she was certain was part of the reason that Emily refused to even be in the same room as her unless she ultimately had to for a case, or to simply keep inquisitive eyes at bay. She despised that she had literally caused Emily to be afraid of her, but she would fight because she was afraid to do anything but; she was terrified of stepping into what was essentially the unknown, but she was even more afraid of falling back into the past that she had been trapped in her whole life and consequently rendering anything that had happened over the past year and or so totally meaningless. It wasn't meaningless. It was everything. To her..

And when she'd returned home that night, she was so overwhelmingly relieved by the very subtle but very intentional smile that actually made it to Will's eyes, by the easy conversation that they had shared after Henry was in bed that had resulted from something trivial on the television, that over the following week after that had seemed to grow with ease - that she had blindly mistaken it for something else and fell victim to naivety once more. On more than one occasion, that blinded sense of ignorance had caused Emily's name to helplessly pass her lips; on more than one occasion she had had the audacity to try to find direction from her ex-boyfriend; on more than one occasion she had let slip just how much she truly missed the brunette. And it was almost a week later, when that constant reminder finally caused Will's laugh to end abruptly, the twinkle in his eyes to be instantly replaced by emptiness, the easy banter to change swiftly to - "JJ, I don't know what impression you're under but I'm not your best friend or your confidante. I'm the father of your child who was conceived under false pretenses. I am not your person." - that she had no choice but to face reality for the umpteenth time and reassess everything that she had thought she had learnt so far.

In that moment, something had changed within Jennifer Jareau and she had awoken the following morning - fifteen days after the bomb had been dropped - with not only an impenetrable determination, but too, a solid plan: no matter what was thrown her way, she would not stop until she had fixed this for all involved and she would do so under no assumptions – even if she didn't win in the end. It was going to suck, and it was going to hurt, and there were going to be so many times that she'd have no choice but to endure how truly pathetic she felt – but she'd do it. She'd do it for Will, and she'd do it for Emily, and she'd do it for Henry.

And every morning from that day on, she enacted the same routine. She'd leave for work early, take a detour to Starbucks where she'd order a coffee for herself and a Java Chip Frappuccino for the woman who, every day, without fail, stood from her desk and walked over to the break room to pour out the contents whilst staring at her vacantly, almost daringly. It should have chipped away at her confidence, and it did a little, but she'd just tell herself: maybe tomorrow she'll actually drink it. And the following day she would, without fail, repeat the same determined act; foolishly hopeful that her efforts would be the exception to Freud's definition of insanity.

By now, she was almost certain that Garcia had spoken to Emily, and that the older woman likely, at the very least, knew that her and Will had separated. She wasn't sure that her friend would have shared anything more with the brunette, but not knowing for certain made her cringe; she didn't want Emily to know – not under this circumstance where it would seem more of an excuse than an explanation. She remembered one morning during that third week that Emily hadn't been there when she had delivered her unwanted coffee gesture. And that, around ten minutes after that, the brunette had emerged from the technical analyst's lair and for the first time, refused to meet her eyes. She loved the profiler within her in that moment; because what reason could Emily possibly have to divert her eyes when for the past few weeks, she had gone out of her way to make sure that she saw the nonchalance in them? Unless.. she still cared enough to have some unmistakable emotion evident there that she didn't want her to see. Unless.. she still cared. And that magnified her confidence tenfold.

So she ran with it.

She kept up with the unwelcome coffee deliveries and essentially waited each time for the rebuttal that she knew was coming; she purposely posed questions to Emily during cases and used the time that the brunette took to answer to figure out if she had managed to make a dent in those infamous Prentiss walls; she smiled at the older woman each and every time that their paths crossed during the day and willingly endured the blank stare that she always received in return; she left random notes on Emily's desk every single day that said absolutely nothing but, I will fight for you, and continued on when those screwed up balls of yellow note paper mounted up in the brunette's trash can. She just stuck around - and she did all of it without hesitation. Because trust wasn't something that was going to be fixed with a few eloquent words – that was how she had gotten around the morons with the media. No, Emily Prentiss was no moron and it would take far more than a smile and a, "I'll treat you better," to fix the bridges that she had, hopefully not, burnt beyond repair. She had to prove to Emily that she was still there, still present despite the road ahead of them; that this was about more than the thrill of forbidden fruit, that it had always been about more than that; and that, no matter how hard she tried to push her away, she wasn't going to budge. Not one inch.

Not even when the brunette's efforts included flirting shamelessly with some unnamed woman on every one of their team nights out. Not even when that shameless flirting ultimately, one night, resulted in a heartbreaking display of far more than just that..

She'd never forget that night. Of course, every night from the very first moment that Emily had taken to that new defense was excruciating. But there was one small detail that JJ had clung to through the pain of watching Emily with someone else – the fact that she may have flirted, may have made out with them, may have cast a smile their way that she had once been certain was meant only for her; but the brunette never, ever, left with those women. Not once. So she had been left certain that it was just a game; one that she was willing to let Emily win and she rewarded her victory by conceding her defeat amicably and leaving the bar prematurely.

But that night.. the night that the rules to that game changed completely. The night that she had held strong and remained at her spot around the table that was bathed with rare laughter and joy that was completely wasted on her; the night that she had sipped her drink and fell tragically captivated by Emily's elegant hands that roamed further than they ever had; the night that she had scurried away to regroup, only to find herself trapped within a stall when two very vocal patrons had slipped into the restroom – presumably assuming that the room was empty – and clicked the door locked behind them as they began their drunken activities. She had rolled her eyes at first as the more vocal of the two people groaned and grunted in pleasure, but when the velvety soft words of, "Tell me what you want.." snapped through her mind, those eyes flooded with instant, white-hot tears. Her chest ached painfully, bile crept up the back of her throat and yet she couldn't help peeking through the slit in the door; the masochist that she apparently was needing to see, needing proof to confirm her fears.

And there it was; painted with porcelain enveloping skin as tan as her own, and crimson lips devouring whilst those fingers, those heavenly fingers that were once hers to own, parted eager thighs beneath a skirt that was nothing more than a belt. But even she was shocked by the boldness that led her to flush the toilet purposely and exit the stall instead of remaining quietly hidden within the shadows until the show was over. Was it that she didn't want to see anymore, or was it that she wanted to remind Emily that she was far better suited to her than any random - quite honestly slutty - stranger that she could ever pick up at a bar? It wasn't actually either.. It was her total concedence to this that was more than cowardice in disguise; it was Emily's prize, her victory reward, one that she had thoroughly earnt. And that reward presented itself in the hurt, broken blue eyes that made no effort to hide themselves behind a stuttering apology, but instead met directly with lust-filled brown as soon as she stepped out of the stall. It was the openness in them that she wished that she was permitted to see in Emily's currently black eyes; the openness that she knew told Emily that she was still very capable of being hurt by her actions, that she was still capable of breaking her heart – that she still cared enough for that to even be a possibility. That she always had and always would care. It was difficult enough being bound by those truths in the first place; let alone handing them without condition to someone who wouldn't even look at her unless it was to hurt her further. But if Emily needed reckless bravery, then she would give it. And she did. The unrestrained, telling emotions in her eyes were Emily's for the taking; even up until the point where she had quietly slipped out of that claustrophobic room and heard the brunette's new 'friend' murmur something to the effect of, "What's her problem?"

There's no problem, sweetheart.. The opposite actually. JJ had thought to herself as she sauntered away; a confident sway in her hips that probably shouldn't have been there if she really thought about it, but she'd taken something from that encounter that most people wouldn't have. See, it wasn't what was in Emily's eyes that had given anything away. No, they were no longer hers to explore and she knew that now clearer than ever. It was the mere fact that, in a situation where the brunette, or anyone, should have felt somewhat embarrassed or awkward; those dark eyes had simply stared back and hadn't even flinched when she interrupted the moment. Which told JJ two things: Emily already knew that she was in there; it wasn't accidental that she had been forced to witness to such a public display of lust. Which implied something else that JJ seemed to be forever coming back to.. Emily still cared too; a knowledge that repaired every dent and scratch in the courage necessary to continue with her mission, every crack and blemish in the hope that one day Emily would look at her with something other than nothing again, every scuff and split in her faith that this would all be okay in the end.

They would be okay in the end. And they would, she vowed in that second.

And back home, on the other side of the spectrum.. JJ had had a whole other plan; one that held the same determination but would yield an entirely different result. She never, ever, once mentioned Emily after the day that Will had so brutally set her straight, because she absolutely refused to insult him anymore than she already had. Instead, she'd return home with a genuine smile upon her face and ask about his day, every single day. Providing there was no out of town case, she'd take Henry to daycare in the morning, before work, before she stopped for Emily's coffee, so that Will could use that time to apply for jobs and piece back the life that she had broken. She cooked for him every single night, meals that she detested but knew were his favourite, and she allowed him to get angry when he needed to vent. She willingly took the painful hint in his eyes that depicted disappointment and caused pain in her own chest because that was all part of her punishment. And then, eight weeks in when the game had suddenly changed course, she had listened as that pain in his eyes faded to hope as he nervously explained to her that the girl that he had been infatuated with in high school, the one whom he had kissed all those months ago, had contacted him and that he didn't know what to do. She had given him advice and eventually became the reason that he took weekend trips to New Orleans when she was home to take care of Henry. She was there for him; she became his friend – something that she should have always been.

It wasn't perfect; it was far from perfect. Perhaps it would never be perfect again in the conventional way that she had become used to; but that was fine, because it was something far better than what had been and was also a very real step towards fixing what her life-long denial had caused. Somehow.. it just made sense, and with every inch of progress that she made with two of the most important people in her life, she felt herself flourish with confidence that she felt had been held captive for all these years. She almost looked forward to her daily routine with Emily, even if that was one sided and the brunette was still refusing to acknowledge her existence unless she absolutely had to. And she almost looked forward to going home too; to Will's latest qualm about this new woman in his life, and the melodic laughs of that man and her beautiful little boy that filtered through the house when she walked through the front door, and the totally broken yet progressively repaired relationship that they were slowly rebuilding.

Which is why, when she returned home one particular evening thirteen weeks in, and his smiling, nervous eyes were immediately followed up with, "I've been offered a job back in New Orleans," her heart had actually sank with genuine disappointment. She wasn't ready for him to be gone, even if she did know that it was best for him and that she couldn't keep him here forever. He wasn't what she wanted – the still ongoing, fruitless routine that she acted out every damn day to win back Emily Prentiss' heart told her that – and she couldn't force him to live a lie.

She'd learnt a lot in the midst of everything that she had lost and found, and she knew that this was simply a step in the right direction to achieving that dream that she had painted so vividly for Garcia months ago. Suddenly that nameless woman stood by the door with Will, the one responsible for the returning sparkle in his eyes, had a name and a face; suddenly the silent words that Henry was babbling were accompanied by sound and depicted tales of all he'd done that weekend in New Orleans with his daddy and "Aunt 'Manda", and what he couldn't wait to show her and "Aunt Em'ly" now that he was back. But that was where the fairytale ended.. because there were still no adoring eyes, no comforting, loving arms wrapped around her waist, no soft melodic laughter or the luxurious, velvety softness of the voice that she had so fallen in love with a long time ago. And it didn't take a profiler to see her disappointment.

"Jay-Jay.." Will began softly as he sat beside her on the sofa and rested his arm along the back. "This was always going to happen. It's time. And.. And I know what I said. I know I told you that I couldn't have those conversations with you but.. I think it's time for you to talk to Emily too."

"I.." She didn't know how to respond. Not because she knew that that was something that she had tried and tried and tried again to do on so many occasions; but because she had gotten so used to purposely not mentioning Emily's name to Will that she was caught off guard when he brought up the topic himself and she genuinely did not know how to respond. But what she did know was that this moment was about Will – it was in no way about her – and she wasn't about to turn it into something that it shouldn't be. So she smiled softly and patted his knee. "When the time is right, I will. But I don't think that time is now."

"Then I don't think it is, either." He agreed. "Because when it is, there'll be no question about it."

"You're a good man." JJ smiled honestly as she pressed her hand to his cheek and brushed her thumb over the stubbly skin there; almost as though she was trying to remember the feel of something that had once caused her to feel wholly empty, but that a small part of her was strangely going to miss now.

"I'm the best man." He grinned.

"No, I better be your best man when you finally allow Amanda to tie you down."

"I wouldn't hesitate to say yes if she ever asked. Even if it has only been five weeks.." Will blushed slightly but the words were truthful, and JJ found a little of the redemption that she had been lacking in recent months.

Was it possible that out of the destruction that she had knowingly caused, something positive had arisen? Had it really been fate? Was fate actually there all along, hiding behind the blanket of chaos? She truly believed that it had been. It wasn't her fate - she had definitely been looking at it wrong – but there was certainly fate at play here. There was a happiness in Will's eyes that she hadn't seen in such a long time, years in fact, and it both pained her and astounded her that that wouldn't have been there if she hadn't begun her affair with Emily; that it wouldn't have been there if she hadn't gotten caught; that it wouldn't have been there if she hadn't made what she was beginning to realise wasn't so much a mistake at all: it was an awakening, a new beginning, a whole other chance at life, and she was going to grab it with both hands.

CM-CM-CM

There were many things that Emily was fluent with: profiling, pretending, foreign languages, compartmentalising.. the list was endless. But she wasn't good at this. She couldn't do this.

Mainly because she had never experienced this.

Throughout her whole life, she had never been chased without having to give some kind of ultimatum first, and certainly not to this magnitude. She was a pro at pushing people away and many allowed her to do so either the first time, the second, and certainly by the third; muttering a 'screw this' under their breath that had made a small part of Emily's heart sink. So this made no sense. At all. It seemed that every effort that she put forth to shun JJ's moves, the blonde had a new one up her sleeve or would simply repeat the same one again like it hadn't just been so cruelly rejected. Where she had seen hurt in the eyes of her past lovers as she had forced them out, she saw something akin to hope in JJ's and a small portion of her felt guilty – not necessarily for shutting her out, but because she knew that even if JJ had earnt her time, she didn't know how to stop now that she had begun this process of ignorance; now that she had been given reason to reinforce her walls in the first place, and she knew better than most that hope was a dangerous thing to fall victim to. So dangerous that, despite how broken she herself was, she still didn't want JJ to be blinded by it; didn't want to see the younger woman crushed when she finally realised, just like she herself had in recent weeks, that hope was just sadism in disguise and would only make reality a far more bitter drug to swallow when she was forced to ingest it. So she had pushed and she'd pushed with every ounce of strength that she had, but that hope sparkling in bright blue just would not accept defeat.

And she'd had that reinforced on the day that JJ had cornered her in the break room. She'd seen the hope in JJ's eyes stronger than ever, hiding behind a shield of self-pity – the hope that they would have their happily ever after even after everything – and she had to crush that immediately. So she had said the cruelest thing that she possibly could and almost felt relieved when she saw that optimism crumble like weathered brick.

She thought that was it. She thought that JJ had gone away to lick her wounds and crawl back into bed with Will – so that he could lick her wounds for her and they could play at happy families - but less than a week later, there she was with a whole different game plan like that day hadn't even happened. She wasn't sure what she hated more; that JJ was still trying, or that a small part of herself was relieved for such perseverance. However, it was later that same day that Emily learnt from Garcia something that suddenly gave reason to JJ's efforts and she immediately felt like a fool.

"It's not exactly common knowledge around the bullpen and I don't want it to be, but JJ and Will aren't even together anymore, princess. They haven't been for a few weeks.."

"Oh wow.." Emily laughed incredulously; her pearly white's still framed by glossy crimson even as she shook her head in disbelief. "Well that makes sense then. Of course she wouldn't like being alone."

"I don't think that's how it is, sweetie.." Garcia spoke softly, a sad frown on her face as she remembered that it really wasn't her place to make confessions that were only JJ's to make - even if she did believe that it would change Emily's assumptions. "It isn't that at all."

"I'm sorry, Garcia, but you weren't there the last time that JJ was left alone for five minutes. You weren't the one whose heart she toyed with simply so that she could keep herself occupied until her boyfriend returned. And I'd appreciate it if you stayed out of my business."

On that note, she had left; an anger forming in the white of her knuckles once she was beyond the door as she recognised that where she should have seen logic – the logic that she had just so easily put forth to Garcia – her heart was actually already taking hope from that new morsel of information. Dangerous fucking hope that she had tried to protect JJ from; dangerous fucking hope that would lead her back to JJ's arms and push her to her knees at the feet of the woman who was nothing but a liar, if only for one more kiss from those poisonous lips.

And as she had turned into the bullpen, unlike recent weeks, she couldn't even bring herself to look at that liar; the one who still held her heart within her traitorous, heavenly, hands – something that she knew was a mistake in itself. Because that one nuance, she was certain, would give JJ more fuel to keep up this charade that left her losing the constant battle between her heart and her mind.

And just as she had feared, JJ's arsenal grew bigger than ever; with dishonest determination, a whole world of deceitful hope, hypnotizing words scrawled day in and day out on yellow note paper, and magic gestures that were insignificant on the face of it but were actually chipping away at her walls piece by piece. She fought and she fought for all she was worth for a further eight weeks.. and yet she was losing; losing against JJ and her own heart, which these days she realised were both banding together to work against her.

Perhaps she should have been grateful for her efforts, but she wasn't; not anymore. In fact, the only thing that Emily Prentiss was grateful for in all of this was her surprising ability to concentrate on the job when her personal life was in such chaos – because it at least gave her a slight reprieve. JJ's actions certainly weren't giving her that, even if the blonde was – thankfully – doing them so subtly that only she would notice; and the moment that she closed her apartment door behind her on an evening wasn't much help either. Especially on those nights. Those nights after her childish act of revenge on JJ in that bar had actually backfired and wound up leaving her incapable of such cruelty, and excruciatingly aware of the fact that it didn't actually help the pain in her chest one bit. Those nights when her natural bodily needs kicked in and she'd lie staring at the ceiling, pretending that memories of JJ writhing in her sheets weren't playing out beside her whilst heat throbbed between her thighs. Those nights when she'd lose again; when she'd eventually reach beneath her panties to relieve the ache and after a few strokes find herself left with nothing but a tighter knot in her chest and more questions than her compartments could handle.

But one question stood out more than others: did she have only herself to blame? Yes, she did. She really should have set the wheels in motion that night thirteen weeks ago when she had first realized that this was a dangerous game to play – and one that she already knew she wasn't going to win. Or that following morning when she had met JJ's eyes for the first time since she had ripped out her heart and had that certainty reiterated to her. And for the life of her, she truly couldn't figure out what had stopped her back then or any day after that; faded lines of, "I'll do it tomorrow," lining the path of her memory. She was intelligent, stubborn, determined, logical – and yet when it came to Jennifer Jareau, nothing was definitive. Everything was open to persuasion, and opportunity for that persuasion was always freely given; almost like she wanted JJ to prove her wrong and redeem herself even just a little bit so that she could justifiably take her back and stop feeling.. this.

Which is why, she had to catch her courage in the moment. Which is why, she had to stop making excuses to validate her own hesitance. Which is why, on a Friday morning some time after that thirteenth week, Emily had arrived at work early - long before that damn coffee arrived on her desk to tempt her like the delicious, poisoned apple responsible for Snow White's stupor; long before that deceptive, spellbinding smile burned into her retinas; long before today's show of dishonest determination could even begin; long before the temptation that had controlled her every move for far too long arrived to weave her devious web once more – and she did indeed set those wheels in motion.

And as she scrawled excuses disguised as logical reason onto an official document that held no care for the truth behind her decision, and signed it like it was her last will and testament; Emily found herself basking in a different kind of hope: the kind laced with traces of returning strength and courage, wrapped lovingly with promise, and tied with a neat little bow of honesty that for the first time in months, she genuinely trusted in.