Author's Note: Yes, I'm aware the Pumpkin Spice Latte is seasonal. Deal with it. ;)

Chapter Eight: What Do You Really Want?

March 30th 2015, 7:47am:

On the short drive home from Baltimore, JJ had apologized to Emily – or, rather, stuttered over an apology - for her behavior back in that police department. And Emily, of course, had already deemed it a non-issue.

What JJ couldn't shake, though, was something she'd said to Silas all those months ago: You can change this moment.

She'd been talking about the knife he had had to his victim's throat of course, which he'd ultimately used to slaughter her – a whole world away from the way in which she herself had chosen to shun Emily. But there were too many similarities for her to feel comfortable with, because the world didn't stop at him, or her. Actions had repercussions, and when there was a chance that the repercussions to her actions would be that Emily took a giant step back from her, she felt like she really had slit the throat of something full of life – one of the only parts of her life that had remained alive even when she hadn't sustained it.

That which is unspoken of is often the most profound thing in existence; that which is unspoken of is also often the most fragile thing in existence. Words have the power to break something, but once that something is broken, words are generally useless in gluing the pieces back together. What if she'd broken that fragile something, and the words she'd once been fluent in weren't enough to repair it? How did she sit by and watch as yet one more piece of her life was lost to her apparently never-too-far-away ability to make bad decisions?

Which was why she was seventeen minutes late to work: because coffee fixed everything, and perhaps it would be successful where she was certain her words would not be.

Placing the Starbucks cup to Emily's desk with enough force to gain the brunette's attention, she folded her arms across her chest and grinned. And Emily, for her part, looked up with a hint of skepticism in her eyes.

"Buttering me up for a favor, Jareau?" She leant back in her chair. "Or attempting to remedy an unnecessary guilty conscience?"

Now it was JJ's turn to narrow her eyes. "How could you have already deemed a guilty conscience unnecessary if you don't know what I feel guilty for?"

"Because-" Emily began, cutting herself off to take a long sip of her Java Chip Frappuccino. "-I know you."

"Which means?" JJ raised her eyebrow.

"Which means you went home last night and dwelled on the events of yesterday, not all of which was case-related, or even Hotch-related." When JJ nodded noncommittally, Emily's eyes softened. "Which also means that I'm going to tell you once again that you have absolutely no reason to be sorry, but you're not going to believe me. And so I'm going to show you, by treating you no differently to how I did before you shot me down."

The wink Emily cast her way instantly eased JJ, and the schoolgirl grin she once again had to subdue further told her that maybe her novelty theory was flawed. It was a frickin' flicker of an eyelid, and yet her mind felt it necessary to take it like she'd just had the affection of every eligible bachelor and bachelorette on the planet bestowed upon her.

"Besides…" Emily looked serious now, and even a little guilty. "I think you were right. You're my friend, and while my efforts were simply intended to comfort you, I do understand how it could be misconstrued – especially in a place of work. I promise it won't happen again."

Well… that helped JJ considerably in fighting away her smile. Of course Emily had forgiven her, because it's Emily. But for the same reason, it didn't matter how many coffees she purchased or how many of her most-adorable smiles she tossed the brunette's way, that which she was apologizing for had already had an irreparable effect.

Besides, what the hell was she meant to say to that? Oh, no, Emily. I'd love for you to continue kissing me in police departments. Matter of fact, I'd love for you to kiss me anywhere. Everywhere…

Yeah. Great plan.

"Sooo, you don't need this then?" She promptly reached out for Emily's coffee, if only to distract any super-profiler onlookers from the dead giveaways in her traitorous not-so-micro expressions.

"Ah-ah." Emily swatted her away. "Buy your own damn coffee."

"I did, and it quickly became one with the trash." JJ sighed and perched herself against Emily's desk. "Apparently the barista figured my Pumpkin Spice Latte would taste better with cinnamon."

"JJ…" Emily frowned. "That drink has always had cinnamon in it. What do you think the spice is? Starbucks didn't just band together to piss you off."

JJ's eyes trailed slowly to the left as she pondered the brunette's words. "That can't be right."

"I promise it is." Emily chuckled. "Hand me your phone."

Digging in her purse, JJ absentmindedly handed over her phone as Garcia approached. She pouted towards the empty-handed analyst. "No coffee for me today?"

"Uh, yes." Garcia replied. "And then you were twenty minutes late so I drank it."

"Seventeen minutes late." JJ corrected, about to make some further witty retort when the sound of Emily clearing her throat grabbed her attention.

"I think you should probably look up the Starbucks menu." Emily said, swiftly handing JJ's phone back, and then continued with a whisper. "And also get better at finishing your online transactions."

JJ's face dropped and painted itself seventeen shades of crimson. As if the deities' recent efforts to make a joke out of her weren't enough, now there was this? "Oh my god, I am so sorry." She snatched her phone from Emily and opened up her internet browser.

"Sorry for what?" Garcia frowned - and then smirked and lowered her voice to a childish drawl. "Whatcha been looking at?"

"You-" JJ pointed towards Garcia, "-pipe down. It's your fault Emily is stunned into silence right now, and it's your fault that I'm probably not going to be able to look her in the face for a week." Yeah, that's it, Jareau. It's all Garcia's fault.

"Oh my gosh!" Garcia flapped her hands, reading quickly and easily through JJ's code, and snatched the phone from her friend. "Let me see your choices!" She took a sharp step away as JJ reached out to grab the phone back, and then grimaced. "Ugh, you don't want that. Those little jelly spikey parts feel nothing like jelly when they're inside you."

Emily and JJ looked to each other with an equally horrified expression, and Garcia continued to offer commentary on JJ's chosen items.

"That one really doesn't reach all the places it looks as though it might." She scrunched up her nose. "Oh and that, ugh, just no."

"I am so close to real-life unfriending you right now." JJ grumbled, her flushed cheeks buried in her open palm.

"Oh, pish-posh." Garcia waved her hand. "The guys are out at some conference, and you'll thank me when you get these in the mail." Satisfied with her amendments, she eventually handed the phone back and smiled, "There."

JJ immediately looked over the phone. "You placed the order?" Her eyes shot to Garcia, who shrugged, effectively answering the question. "Of course you placed the order. Why wouldn't you place the order?"

Out of nowhere, Emily erupted in laughter, earning her two perplexed looks from her friends. Looking up to meet their questioning silence, she shook her head and waved her hand. "I'm sorry, it's just…" Clearing her throat, she ebbed her amusement and reduced it to a small smile. "Nothing."

"Oh, really?" JJ quirked her eyebrow, clearly unimpressed despite the playful glint in her eye. "You're shy about explaining your outburst, huh? I'm sorry, did you just have the least subtle person on the East coast announce to a department full of agents what you've been purchasing online?"

"No." Emily shook her head, laughing huskily. "But I did just have the best visual of what would have happened had Hotch not interrupted when Reid asked to borrow your phone the other day."

As that image took it upon itself to paint across the walls of her mind, JJ found herself unable to contain her laughter. It would have been mortifying – mostly for Reid, who probably would have had nightmares for weeks. It might have been worth the embarrassment just to see the poor guy's reaction, but then maybe not. Something told her Hotch's stoicism wouldn't have permitted him to see the humor in the situation.

"Oh could you imagine?" She shook her head as her laughs lulled to brief snickers. "That genius brain of his would have imploded."

"…It's amazing to see you laugh like that again." Emily said then, prompting JJ to realize that she was the only one still laughing. "We missed that little snort of yours."

With a hand still held to her stomach and tears in her eyes from the first authentic laughter she'd exuded in months, JJ looked up to find both of her friends smiling at her like everything bad in the world was now suddenly rectified. It was, she realized, the first time either of them had looked at her without even a hint of concern in their eyes – and it was wonderful. Even more beautiful than that apparently beautiful sunset.

Locking her phone and tossing it back into her purse, she shrugged. "Apparently divorce suits me. The papers came in the mail this morning – it's almost over."

"No." Garcia corrected. "Divorcing someone you never should have married suits you." Earning herself two curt expressions, she jumped to defensive mode. "What? It's true."

"PG, babe," Emily stood, "sometimes, even when something's true, you're not supposed to talk about it."

"You mean like that mad-crazy crush you have on JJ?" Garcia called after Emily, and Emily turned back, her eyes briefly ghosting over JJ before she grinned to Garcia.

"Exactly like that."

And JJ, suddenly, found herself with bigger issues than that little order Garcia had placed. Because whereas Emily was clearly joking, the part of JJ that had ached for the joke, was not.

She didn't want Emily to be joking, and she sure as fuck didn't want Emily to stop kissing her - even in that mild, platonic way intended only to comfort.

As she watched Emily turn a corner and vanish from the bullpen, she felt a few more shreds of her theory disappear right along with her.

March 30th 2015, 9:03am:

When Hotch had beckoned her from the catwalk at 9:00am, JJ became immediately paranoid for two reasons. One: it had been precisely one week since their last meeting – he was never so punctual, because being punctual would mean he'd miss out on catching her off guard. Two: he was already there, meaning there'd be no unspecified amount of time in which she'd have to sit and stew.

This wasn't going to be anything good.

And yet, as she took a seat at his desk, everything was precisely how it had been for the past nineteen weeks. Well, except that he'd apparently ran so little on patience that he couldn't even bring himself to create full sentences.

"Alcohol consumption?"

"November 16th 2014." Her response was solid – replying like a human-being seemed somewhat redundant when it was clear to her that she was nothing but questions on a page.

"Drugs? Of any variety?" He asked before he'd even finished making a note of her first response.

"March 17th, naproxen for a headache." She answered, her eyes fixed, not on him, but on his nameplate. She'd probably get more life out of that thing than him anyway.

"Any thoughts of suicide?"

This time, she hesitated, her eyes lifting to him – or, rather, the top of his head, since his gaze was firmly fixed on the notebook in front of him.

As she studied his unfaltering demeanour, she began to wonder if he'd even blink if she deviated; if, instead of telling him what she told him every week, she told him that it's at least a partial thought of hers when things get tough.

She smiled inwardly, finding some semblance of comfort in the realization that she'd just now been able to admit that to herself.

"None." She finally replied – she didn't need to give him anymore reason to treat her like a second-rate employee. This past case had been bad enough.

"Any big changes?" He looked up then, and she held his gaze.

There was no way she was going to tell him about that little trick she'd played on herself recently in regard to Emily, and she sure as fuck wasn't going to tell him how it seemed to be effecting her – that was something she'd already resolved to not do before she'd stepped in here. It was none of his business and, actually, telling him before she'd figured out whether it was anything or nothing would probably be more detrimental than sensible, for her and Emily both.

If only she'd put the same amount of thought into the response she did give.

"With all due respect, Sir, I've given the same answers for the past nineteen weeks and it doesn't seem to be getting us anywhere. So why don't you just ask what you really want to ask?"

Hotch, clearly taken aback by JJ's sudden assertiveness, raised his eyebrows and let a burst of air pass his lips. "I suppose, agent, because I'll get the answers I'm really searching for when you figure out what it is that you really want."

"What I really want?" JJ shot back. "Yesterday, I gave it my all. I did everything in my power to show you that I want to be here, that I'm ready to be here, that I'm capable of doing this job, and you shot me down every chance you got, held me back, and smothered me. You're all doing it. How am I supposed to get back to normal when you're all tiptoeing around me?"

Following that outburst, Hotch remained silent, his signature vacant stare telling JJ nothing.

Reading body language had been the focus of her life for the past twelve years, and yet in that moment, she had no clue whether she'd just impressed him with her confidence, or taken an already complicated situation and made it worse. But she'd known Hotch long enough to know that she wasn't supposed to know.

And then something happened that, in all the years she'd known him, had only happened on a handful of occasions: his robot exterior dropped to the point where a human-being was almost visible beyond the façade.

"Have you considered that it's not us tiptoeing around you, but you tiptoeing around yourself? Have you considered that it's not us, or me, holding you back, but yourself?" He laced his fingers against the desk, but didn't once shift his eyes from JJ's. "If you're unable to be honest with yourself, how could you possibly be being honest with me? So when that day finally comes, I'll stop asking the same questions. Until then, you'd better get used to them."

If JJ hadn't been so caught off guard by his sudden urge to be human, she would have been honest with him there and then. She would have told him what she'd admitted to herself just minutes ago – that the end would always be a part of her future – and she may have even told him about that little hurdle she'd stumbled across recently, in code of course. But she held herself back, because something told her they weren't the only ways in which she needed to be honest with herself. Something told her that that day, as he'd put it, had not yet come.

The snap of Hotch's notebook marked the return of his robot exterior, his humanness gone like it had never been there. But JJ didn't need a visual reminder that he was human, that he was her friend, that she wasn't just questions on a sheet – because she had something better: direction.

"We'll review your progress next week." He said as he stood, indicating to her that the meeting was over. "In the meantime, I want you to think about what big changes have really taken place recently and what they mean for you."

He was telling her to thoroughly look into herself, she knew that, and yet JJ was very aware that telling him outright about the situation with Emily might have been more subtle than the guilty expression she donned in that second.

"Yes, Sir." She nodded, and quickly excused herself.

March 30th 2015, 7:33pm:

Sat cross-legged upon her kitchen island, JJ stared at the half-emptied boxes littered across her living room and dining room, willing them to unpack themselves. Or repack themselves – she wasn't sure.

It wasn't a bad place. The neighbourhood was nice, the apartment itself contemporary and clean, the other people in the building mostly courteous. Yet it didn't feel right.

She imagined that was because she knew it was a stopgap – the physical version of the limbo that Garcia had pegged her as being in. It didn't make sense to hang pictures, because she was only going to take them down again. It didn't make sense to unpack treasures from her life, because she was only going to pack them up again. It didn't make sense to make this a home, when it wasn't her home.

She looked to the journal to her left, open on a blank page and waiting for her to fill it with the day's events – her positive and her negative. It had been so easy until today, something she'd began to look forward to doing each evening. But it was that question, wasn't it?: What is it you really want?

The answer didn't seem so simple anymore, especially when all she could think of when she asked herself that question, was Emily's light-hearted response to Garcia this afternoon. Then, her stomach hurt.

A gentle, almost hesitant knock resounded down her hall then, and she instinctively reached out and flipped her journal closed, dropping it into the closest draw before she headed to the door.

"Emily?" She said as she opened it, or asked, or remained somewhat baffled – she wasn't sure. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, except…" Emily looked behind her, towards the stairs she'd just climbed. "Do you know you have an old lady sat in your hall?"

"Oh. Yeah." JJ laughed, stepping aside for Emily to come in, before closing the door behind them both. "She does that. I've dubbed her the Gatekeeper."

Emily chuckled. "Nice."

A somewhat awkward silence fell upon the pair then, two sets of eyes clearly unsure what to do with themselves these days. For JJ, looking at Emily seemed dangerous. Not looking at her seemed somehow worse – that wasn't going to keep their friendship normal and uneventful.

Finally, she found a safe place to direct her eyes and pointed towards the bag in Emily's hand. "What's in the bag?"

"Oh." Emily looked down. "House-warming gift." She looked around. "Apartment-warming gift." She looked down again, a small guilty smirk pulling at her lips. "Slash apology. For the whole Garcia situation this morning."

JJ cheeks flushed. She cleared her throat, before offering a breathy- "Yeah." –and pulled up one of the stools beside her, her hands clasped between her thighs in a blatant gesture of discomfort. "That was pretty rough."

"Did she actually place the order?" Emily asked as she placed the bag to the kitchen counter and began carefully removing items from it.

"Oh yeah, she did." JJ grinned, though mostly gritted her teeth. "I got the email confirmation this afternoon – my items will be delivered between the 8th and the 11th of April. Yay for friends who have no boundaries."

JJ's attention drifted to the objects in Emily's hands then, the larger object she was constructing out of them, and her smile faded into a curious frown. Whatever it was, it was already beautiful, nothing like she'd ever seen before.

Considering the relatively small bag Emily had used to transport this here, it was like watching a magician pull rabbits from a top hat. And each time Emily removed one more piece from its protective tissue-paper and placed it in its allocated spot, it grew more grand and spectacular.

Only when the last piece was in place, did Emily turn it fully towards her.

"I bought it when I first moved to DC." She said. "Ya know, to liven up my empty apartment." A small shrug graced her shoulders, her eyes fixed on JJ whose expression offered nothing on either side of neutral. "It is okay to hate it, by the way."

"I don't hate it." JJ said quietly, distractedly, and ran her fingers over what now made sense to her.

With the pieces all together, it looked like they had never been apart, like it had always been one object, rather than eight or nine. And yet when she looked closely, she was able to see that those pieces that created this puzzle, were actually puzzle pieces.

Each one was oak, stained a rich, deep brown, and they all formed together to create one large etching of birds in flight. Vibrant paints were used to pronounce the colors of their tail feathers and eyes - each bird carrying various shades of one particular color, so that once together, they spread across the piece like a rainbow.

"This is beautiful, Em." She looked to Emily, struggling to remember that there was a line in the sand, that they were friends – because in that moment, the feelings didn't fit. All the reminders to keep herself in check were jumbled and foggy. She looked back to the artwork, ghosting her fingers along it once more. "Thank you. So much."

"You are very welcome." Emily responded quietly, sincerely, studying JJ like JJ was studying the artwork before her. She looked away, specifically to the apartment around her. "Anyway… You look like you've been busy?"

"Is that supposed to be a joke?" JJ smirked, her eyes still marvelling over her gift. She sat back then, observing the chaos of boxes that had peeked Emily's attention. "I'm considering renting a storage unit. I just don't have the motivation to unpack my life when…"

Emily looked to her, seemingly already aware of how that sentence ended. "I was the same when I first moved here. But I soon learnt that, in this job, you need something to come back to. And this," She waggled her finger in the general direction of the chaos, "is not that something."

"Alright, Judgey." JJ glared, though a grin still tugged at her lips.

Emily smiled. She seemed to ponder something for a second then, before shrugging off her jacket, folding it over a stool and holding out her hands. "I'm yours. What can I do to help?"

And JJ, of course, with that justifiably guilty conscience of hers, cleared her throat. "Um…" She shook her head. "It's already past eight, and I'm sure you don't want to spend-"

"-your evening unpacking crap that isn't yours." Emily finished with a mocking voice and an eye roll. "You have work early, blah blah blah." She looked back to JJ with a seemingly proud smile. "Okay, so now we've got that out of our system… Where do we start?"

JJ chuckled, relenting. "You're pretty persuasive, Ms Prentiss. Immature, but persuasive. Anyone ever tell you that?"

"Once or twice." Emily winked, and turned away just in time to miss JJ, not for the first time, lose her sanity for that damn gesture.

She subtly shook her head, ridding her mind of her impure thoughts, and stood. "Let's hang this first." She nodded to the gift Emily had brought for her. "Above the couch, I think. Where did you have it? I don't remember seeing it when I've been at your place."

"It was above my bed." Emily responded distractedly, a small furrow in her brow as she attempted to figure out just how they were meant to hang it above the couch when JJ's couch had no wall behind it. She turned back to JJ- "Is that meant to be a joke?" –and then recognized the odd expression on the blonde's face. "What?"

JJ sucked in a silent breath. If this had been above Emily's bed, it was something that meant a great deal to her. Because of that, it meant a great deal to JJ. But that was where the problem lay: she wanted it in her apartment exactly where it had been in Emily's. She wanted to wake up in the morning and have it be the first thing she saw, so that every single one of her days began with a reminder of how important she was to these people who had quickly become some of the most important in her own life.

But that was a weird thing to admit, right? Or did it just feel weird now because of the place that she found herself in regard to her relationship with Emily?

"Uh," She pointed to the left side wall, "we can move the couch there."

Emily nodded, seemingly unconvinced by the blatant digression but also seemingly reluctant to address it.

Once she and Emily had resituated the couch, and consequently resituated the TV, JJ hopped up onto the cushions, two spare nails between her teeth and a hammer poised and ready to go in her right hand.

Suddenly, Emily started laughing.

JJ looked behind her. "What?"

"You don't wanna mark it or anything first?" Emily shrugged, obvious amusement tugging at her pursed lips. "You're just gonna throw it up there and hope its level?"

JJ promptly turned away- "I am now. So that it annoys the hell out of you whenever you're over." –and began hammering in the first nail.

She leant back then, utilizing her eyes alone to gauge where the second nail needed to go, and sure enough, once the picture was hung, there was a slight dip on the left hand side. She grinned.

"Mature." Emily said dryly, then held out her hands to help JJ off of the couch.

JJ briefly eyed those hands, smirking to herself. Because the couch was less than a foot off the ground – it wasn't like she was going to damage herself. But that was Emily all over, wasn't it? All chivalry and charm and…

She took those hands, placing them against her hips like Emily had two nights ago, and then placed her own against Emily's shoulders. "If you're going to play the knight in shining armor, at least do it properly."

Emily swallowed, briefly sucking her bottom lip into her mouth, and then, after a moment, lifted JJ and returned her safely to solid ground. She cocked her head to the side, and in the most elegant voice JJ had ever heard, "How's that, my lady?"

JJ smiled but cast her eyes away, knowing that in them was everything she shouldn't say. "Needs some work."

"Much like your apartment then." Emily muttered playfully, and turned to the piles of boxes to her left.

For the following two hours, Emily, for all intents and purposes, made JJ's house a home. It was nothing to do with unpacked boxes though, with the treasures now littering built shelves or the pictures adorning once-bare walls…

For JJ, it was one picture alone. It was the memory she had from hanging that picture. It was the childish laughter that had filled her apartment when she attempted to not do things by the book – or instructions – and the mirror that had met its impromptu demise when that had failed.

It was the song, Gone, Gone, Gone, that blared out as they unpacked boxes, and the neighbour they consequently pissed off and would now have to avoid. It was a chivalrous helping hand, the one that seemed to define Emily; and a line drawn in the sand that had so easily washed away with the tide.

And as Emily left her apartment that night, JJ found herself confronted with Hotch's question once more.

What is it I really want? She thought. I think it might be Emily.

Positive: You figured out what you want.
Negative: It's a shame she doesn't want you too…