It wasn't even ten hours later that Emily found herself dozing in the back seat of the SUV, beside Rossi. Derek had been right. It had been an easy case – as easy as one of their cases could be, anyhow. Within hours of getting there, the killer made a mistake, panicked and didn't quite finish his last victim off – she died an hour later in the ER, but not until positively ID-ing the suspect's photo. He was a high school senior, in love with his sister and taking out his rage on other bright young things. Emily was almost disappointed, such an easy case felt almost like a let-down: after all of her dramatic cases at the BAU, this is what it came down to? Her seat thumped and she snapped out of her doze.

"So help me God, Reid if you kick my seat one more damn time, I swear I'll…" Emily ranted at Reid who was in the very back of the car. She trailed off as she realised that no one was stopping her, telling her and Reid to knock it off, the both of them. She'd never gotten that far in ranting at him before. The look on Reid's face told her that he had made the same connection and she knew that sadness was written all over her face. She turned back to watch the traffic. Rossi looked as though he were miles away, probably structuring the new book she knew he wanted to write. She bet she knew who it'd be dedicated to. Morgan hadn't noticed anything, his headphones ever present. Hotch was completely rigid but Emily couldn't tell if that was new or not. It was safe to say that the no inter-team profiling rule and been flagrantly disregarded the last couple of weeks.

They were about ten minutes away from Quantico and Emily was already dreaming of the bubble bath she was going to take when she got home, figured that she could finish writing up her reports and tying up loose ends tomorrow and Friday. She had some adoption forms to fill out too. She couldn't quite believe that she had started the process of getting Declan back into her life. On the one hand, she was utterly terrified, afraid of fucking up another life.

They were nearly in sight of the office when Garcia's voice crackled over the hands-free.

"Hello, babies! I wanted to let you know that I've made a late reservation at Morelli's," Garcia sounded too chipper, Rossi winced and Morgan heard her even through the headphones, Emily guessed, as he turned his music off, "And before I hear any complaints: this is happening. Rossi, I've cancelled your drinks with your editor and Hotch, before you say anything, I've spoken to Jessica and she's going to keep Jack over tonight."

Emily couldn't supress a groan, dreams of a bath gone. She knew there was no sneaking her way out of this one now. It wasn't that she didn't want some kind of send-off, but she still didn't feel in a mood to celebrate or reminisce. Nashville was still too near. It didn't look as though anyone else was thrilled about the prospect either.

Hotch adjusted their course for the restaurant.

Everyone went back to their own little worlds for the next ten minutes and Emily realised how odd it was, having everyone in one SUV. It seemed that one less team member made all the difference.

Dinner had been better than he had expected, Hotch thought. Once they had sat down at the charming Italian and the owner had poured out a couple of bottles of wine, everyone began to relax a little. Prentiss was talking to Reid, their earlier little spat seemed to have been forgotten. He caught snippets of the conversation but could make out neither head nor tail of it, he would hazard a guess that they were talking about comic books. Morgan and Garcia were chatting about idle nothings and Rossi was talking animatedly to the owner – this was the only Italian joint in town that he approved of. Straight ahead of Hotch, between Reid and Morgan, was an empty chair: the wine glass untouched and the cutlery still laid out. The team came here fairly regularly; he assumed that when the owner had taken a reservation from Garcia that they had automatically set the table for their usual number. No one mentioned it, or asked for the place to be cleared, but Aaron couldn't stop looking at it.

Aaron was almost certainly in denial, he realised. He half expected that JJ would sweep in here any moment, flustered and apologising for being late, probably armed with an excuse involving Henry. What Aaron was not in denial about, though, was that her death was instrumental in his decision to leave. Honestly, he should probably have left when Strauss first gave him the choice years ago. But he had stayed. He had loved the work, loved his team. And now? It wasn't that he loved them less, in fact it was breaking his heart a little to leave them. There was just a little less of them to love and he couldn't love a job which had taken her from them, from him. He couldn't face standing around, wondering who would be the next to fall.

Rossi was done talking to the restaurateur and turned his attention to Aaron instead, telling him something to do with the wine, but he was only half listening. Aaron worried about the team dynamic, now that JJ was gone – he didn't know what his and Prentiss' leaving was going to do to it either, but he hoped it would be good, that it would get new blood into the unit. It was only when the food came that the conversations started to open up to all of them. They talked about Prentiss' plans for Declan and buying a new place – Hotch was pushing for her to get somewhere with a yard and Reid was detailing statistics about the correlation between a child's happiness and confidence with whether or not they had a childhood pet. He was pretty convincing – Hotch had pretty much decided to get a dog by the end of the spiel.

Everyone was in a good mood, laughing again. Hotch could hardly believe it was happening. It wasn't quite the same as it used to be, but maybe there was hope of happiness for all of them yet. He reflected on his decision to leave. It was one that left a bitter taste in his mouth, after all of his years fighting to stay where he was, all the good he had done, but he knew, ultimately, it was the right one. He also knew that he had made a promise to JJ: that he was going to look after the team, keep them together. He refused to fail in that task but he was going to have to be a little more creative in keeping it. Aaron was reticent to bring JJ up now that everyone seemed to be cheering up, but they were four bottles in, now, if he left it much longer, he knew that they might get too emotional or not remember this conversation at all. He cleared his throat and drew their attention.

"I want to start by saying that working with you all has been one of the greatest privileges of my life. I'm going to be sorry not to see you all every day," Garcia and Prentiss were smiling at him tenderly and he had to rush to get the words he needed to say out, "However, I made a promise to JJ," tenderness turned once more to sadness and concern, "I promised her that I was going to keep an eye on you all, that I was going to look after you. I intend to keep that promise. So I propose that, come hell or high water, we meet up at least once a month. It can just be a round of coffee or drinks after a case or you are all welcome to join Jack and me for dinner, but I want everyone to help me keep this promise."

Prentiss and Garcia were the first to reply, murmuring "of course". Morgan and Rossi just nodded, looking deep in thought. Reid was the only one not to respond immediately. His long fingers traced the patterns on the oilcloth.

"I'll do it, but not for you." He stated sharply, before he pushed his chair back and headed for the men's room. He left a sea of gaping faces behind him. Garcia and Morgan came to his defence after a beat or two, but Hotch waved them off – "You don't need to make his excuses for him." – before he followed.

Aaron's long stride caught him up with Reid in the short hallway outside of the bathrooms and he laid a solid hand on the younger man's shoulder, halfway between restraint and comfort. Aaron was so bewildered that he wasn't entirely certain what his demeanour should be.

"Do you want to tell me what that was about?" He asked, in his 'firm but understanding' tone, as JJ would have described it. He felt a stab as he thought of her.

Aaron was surprised at the rage he saw on Spencer's face as he turned back towards him, violently shrugging off the hand. Not as surprised as he was when Reid actually tried to hit him – a closed fist but a weak swing. Instincts kicked in and Hotch had the young doctor pinned up against the wall before either could fully register what had just happened. Reid was still thrashing like some kind of wild creature when he lost the last of his composure, sobbing openly.

"It's okay." Hotch loosened his grip to fold him up in a fierce hug – if it could be called as such. It took a minute for the sobs to subside to soft hiccups of grief, his head falling on his mentor's shoulder.

"I'm sorry."

"You've got nothing to be sorry for."

"I didn't get to say goodbye." Reid's plaintive voice nearly broke Aaron's heart, and he had never felt as paternal towards Reid as he did at this moment.

"I know. I know and I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too."

"Come on. Let's get you cleaned up."

Emily and Penelope were over at the bar trying to persuade the barman to hand over the bottle of Limoncello. Derek and Rossi sat together, finishing the last of their red wine and chatting idly. Dave could tell that Morgan's heart wasn't really in the conversation: when he wasn't scanning the room for Hotch or Reid he seemed to be staring at some point, miles away.

"What's on your mind?"

"Hmm?" The direct question caught Derek off guard, and it wasn't until the question was repeated that he managed to verbalise the jumble of his thoughts, "This is it, isn't it?"

"This is what?" Rossi's brow was creased with confusion.

"The end of the line, the breaking point. It's like Jenga – there's always one or two pieces that you can't mess with. You do, the entire thing falls to pieces. JJ was that piece and now we're all falling apart."

"Maybe you're right," Rossi chose his words carefully, as Derek thumbed the edge of his wine glass, nearly despondent, "but is that such a terrible thing?" Derek's head shot up and Rossi had to hold a hand up to pause him, "Change is natural, needed even. You heard Aaron, even if we aren't all working together; we're in each other's lives for good now. You know that. And who knows, maybe this is a chance for new things to grow." Derek followed Rossi's gaze back to the bar. He caught Emily's eye there, bright eyes shining for the first time in weeks as she laughed over the rim of a shot glass. She smiled at him before lowering her gaze bashfully, and his heart skipped a beat. The first time in years. Derek put down the wine glass.

"Maybe."

Half an hour later, things were winding down. Jackets were being pulled on, scarves wrapped tightly (or tied tightly on by Garcia, in Reid's case) and smiles and dates exchanged. Now it was time to say goodbye. Emily did a circuit, all fluttery kisses and broad smiles. She would see them all around the building, she promised a thousand times.

Hotch held his hand out for Derek to take, but he simply huffed: "C'mon, man" before he pulled the older man into an embrace, laughing at how rigid Hotch felt before he relaxed and returned the hug, giving his successor a pat on the back before disengaging himself.

He turned to Garcia and smiled at her as she threw her arms wide open for a hug. Derek wondered if Hotch would ever forgive him for starting a precedent of hugging. It took longer for Hotch to extricate himself from this one, and he didn't manage to escape without traces of hot pink lipstick on his cheek. Garcia was crying again, though the tears didn't seem so bitter. She was making Hotch promise that he would keep in touch and bring Jack round to see them every once in a while.

Rossi just cocked an eyebrow at his former mentee and held his hand out and Hotch shook it gladly. Lastly there was only Reid, at the end of this twisted version of a receiving line.

"I'm sorry, for earlier," Reid said in his smallest voice, looking more like a gawky teenager in front of his father than ever, "I wish you weren't going."

This time it was Hotch who took the initiative and wrapped his arms and let the boy hang on as long as he needed. When Reid finally pulled away, brushing his hand over his eyes, Hotch gripped his shoulder, turning round to view his team one last time – Derek could have sworn that their inimitable leader looked a little misty eyed.

"How about one more shot, for the road?" Derek proffered, feeling that they might all need the extra minute for closure, even as he signalled for the waitress. No one protested as she poured out the Limoncello that Rossi preferred. Derek raised his glass, prompting everyone to join him.

"To Prentiss, for being a champ. To Hotch, you're gonna be a tough act to follow, and we're gonna miss you very much, the both of you. And to JJ, who we'll never forget, and always love."

Their yellow drinks clinked together in the dim restaurant, and they thought of sunny days to come and of blonde hair that they would not see again.

"To JJ."

AN: Again, I suck! But, in other news: exams/etc are all over and I have finished my degree - yay, me. One final chapter before we're all done, happy-rainbow alternate ending aside. This was monstrously long, but I couldn't face breaking it up! Hope some of you are still out there.