Author's Note: So now JJ is saved, but that doesn't mean that everything will suddenly be easy. And now, since JJ has had her chance to face her versions of the team members, it's the team's turn to redeem themselves somewhat. Also, I'm going to use this as a plot device to explain the investigation that saved JJ. It will make sense, I hope.


At another time, he would have stopped himself, concerned that others might think he was losing it. The truth of the matter was he was barely hanging onto his own sanity.

"Give her a damn blanket!" He spat with frustration, not bothering to care if he was annoying the paramedic currently leaning over JJ's shivering body.

"She's probably close to OD'ing." The medic explained hurriedly, ripping open some package as she continued to work on JJ. "Her fever is through the roof, a blanket isn't going to help."

He hated this.

He hated not being able to make it better. To be so useless and helpless as someone he cared about writhed in pain in front of him.

"You can talk to her." The medic suggested, and it left him wondering if her suggestion had more to do with hoping that she could avoid having him yell at her than if it would actually help. "It might calm her down."

"Hold on JJ." He commanded, chuckling despite himself at the sudden memory that his comment evoked. "That's an order."

Glancing back at the medic who was working feverishly over the barely coherent blonde, he smiled. "I don't know if you ever knew, but I remember the moment I knew you would be an incredible agent."

He sighed, looking over the files in front of him with a mixture of shock and dismay.

He never realized that building a team was so complicated.

A knock at the door made him look up, "Jennifer Jareau is here to see you, Sir." A junior agent scurried away just as quickly, as if praying that he hadn't just made the greatest error of his young career.

A quick glance at the clock made him smirk. Five minutes early—not too early, definitely not late. Just in control.

"Agent Hotchner?" A young blonde woman stood confidently in his doorway, a picture of poise and grace as she smiled easily. "I had an appointment." She reminded him gently.

"Of course." Hotch felt the corner of his mouth turn up, something that he was sure the blonde wouldn't recognize as a smile. "Please, come, have a seat."

The interview passed easily. He was genuinely surprised at learning the woman in front of him had grown up in a small farm town, but was cautiously aware that she only provided enough information for him to feel like she was opening up.

"One last question." He cleared his throat, amused to see her relieved smirk, as if daring him to trip her up. "This unit has suffered an immense loss—I'm sure you're aware—" He vaguely referenced the tragedy of Boston, grateful to see her frown sympathetically and nod in acknowledgement. "How would you handle integrating yourself into the unit?"

He caught her—he could see her walls crumble briefly as she contemplated her response, yet just as quickly as the walls had crumbled, she smiled confidently. "First, let me say I'm sorry for the loss of your colleagues." The warmth and empathy he could feel from her astounded him. He simply nodded, prompting her to continue. "But I'd like to speak frankly, Agent Hotchner, is that okay?"

"Please." He sat back, impressed by the way the 27 year old carried herself.

"I have no intention of replacing anyone." She explained immediately, "But I am the best in my field. If you can't accept that, or if your unit is not ready for that, it would be better for us to part terms now."

His jaw dropped slightly, but he recovered instantly. No one had ever put him on the spot like that, almost daring him to make a decision right then.

"We'd like to try you out on a temporary basis. See how one case goes and how you relate with the team."

She smiled brightly, and for some reason he got the feeling that this smile was born more out of the fact that she had just gotten her way.

Shaking his head slightly, he gestured toward the open door. "We have a case, we'll be leaving in thirty minutes. I can have someone drive you home—"

"I have a bag stored in the lockers downstairs." She interrupted him, smiling easily and this time he could see the excitement dancing in her eyes.

"Let's go."

He realized he had stopped talking when the ambulance lurched slightly and JJ cried out in a pained whimper.

He held her hand more tightly than before, wanting to assure her that he was indeed there.

And he wasn't about to leave her.

"What the hell was that?" She asked as they both slid off the podium, just out of view of the dozen reporters clamoring for more information. "Why didn't I know the UnSub is sending pictures to the Bureau?"

"Calm down Agent Jareau, that's an order." He commanded, his head already starting to ache from the tedium of another press conference.

"An order?" She asked incredulously. "Permission to speak freely sir?"

"Denied." He rubbed his eyes tiredly, somehow aware that this wasn't just going to go away if he tried to scare her, but willing to give it a shot.

"Too bad." She snorted indignantly. "You intentionally crippled me from being able to effectively do my job."

"Your job is to tell the press what we say. That is your job."

"A job that I can't do if you don't trust me enough to tell me what information to keep back and what I can tell them!" She emphasized, not shouting but coming dangerously close to yelling at a superior officer.

"I—"

"You let them blindside me!" She added, pointing back to the podium she had just come from. "I don't care if you don't think you can trust me, but now I've got to reassure both the press and the public that the FBI is aware of all relevant facts and were simply keeping it to themselves." She shook her head, growing more and more angry as she thought about the dirty underhanded tactic.

"I couldn't be sure you could keep all of the information confidential."

"Well then you are an ass." She told him off, right to his face before spinning around to return to the room full of blood thirsty reporters.

He stood, stunned.

Throughout the entire case he had thought the blonde woman incapable of anything other than hard work with a likable easygoing attitude that seemed to meld with Morgan's flirtation and Reid's awkwardness. But it seemed he had touched a nerve.

And oddly enough, he respected her more for pushing him back than he ever would have if she stayed silent.

Jennifer Jareau was the BAU's new media liaison, if he could convince her to stay.

God help the serial killers.

He heard the driver of the ambulance say they were only five minutes out and his heart soared with relief.

"I called Emily, JJ." He explained, his voice catching thickly at the awful decision he had been forced to make. "When Will called us, I called her right away."

His stomach sank as Will's terrified voice read the note Doyle had left on their bedroom vanity.

'I'm Coming For You Lauren'

It was enough to make him sick.

Forcing aside the terror that welled inside him that yet another person under his command was in danger, he focused on the matter before him. He was grateful that Will agreed to come somewhere safe without argument.

They couldn't let Doyle have the upper hand again. They had to get inside his head.

And really, there was only one option.

Besides, he reasoned, if it were him he would want to know.

JJ and Hotch had argued at length when he demanded she give him some way to contact his former agent. She had insisted—no one other than the blonde would ever know how to reach her—it was safer that way.

Eventually, Hotch won out with a foreign telephone number written on a sticky note and instructions to leave a message for Patricia.

He only hoped Emily would be willing to put her life in danger for the team.

Because if she didn't, he wasn't quite sure what he would do.

The ambulance screeched to a stop, doors opening and doctors running around, forcing him to stay behind as they wheeled her past doors where he apparently couldn't follow.