PG: You're going to do so great! My extra smooth blonde espresso can do anything!

EP: Pen! Therapy isn't something you do well! It's not about getting a good grade. JJ, just be honest and talk to them and let them help.

PG: What would you know about honesty? You're Little Miss Secret Keeper!

EP: It's 'Ms.' Secret Keeper to you! I'm an adult. I'm not a 'Miss.'

PG: Are you? Are you an adult? What's your birthdate and time?

EP: JJ. Tell Pen to stop trying to astrologize me.

PG: That's not even a word! JJ, tell Em to stop glaring at me :(

JJ laughed at her friends' attempts to calm her down. She was sitting on a worn leather couch in a therapist's office, waiting to start her mandatory two months of counseling. Even though she was in the FBI building, she wasn't with her friends. They were on the BAU's floor and she was below them on a floor she'd barely known existed.

This was the first time in over a week that she'd put on real clothing. It was just intake, but she'd still put on a skirt suit, so she'd look professional. Showing up in the same sweatpants and Rage Against shirt she'd been wearing since she left Emily's wouldn't look good.

She was nervous about therapy. Even though she knew it was good, and would be good for her specifically, JJ wasn't sure how she felt about spilling her personal life to a stranger. What if the counselor took one look at her and declared her unfit for duty? What if JJ went to every session, dug way down deep into herself, and then was declared unfit for duty?

She loved her work, even though it could be hard. Talking to families and comforting victims made her feel like she was doing some good in the world. She didn't need to be a profiler to make a difference. She only had a few days left before she could go back into work and, as long as she didn't fuck up too badly, the therapy would end and everything would go back to how it was before Hankel.

JJ's phone buzzed again. She'd gotten a blurry picture of Hotch standing in front of the briefing room's tv. A second later, she got a photo of Emily taking the picture of Hotch. Maybe she'd swing by the office after this and just say hello to everyone. She'd only seen Emily and Penelope since the case.

JJ had stayed with Emily for four days, watching movies and sleeping. It had been really restful and nice to have company while she was recovering. Once she could make it through a whole day without any help, JJ had taken Henry back home. Her apartment felt too quiet after the noise of Milly and Emily. She wished she hadn't had to leave.

Penelope had come over a couple times in the week since. Emily had gone back to work and left on a case immediately. She'd only gotten back the day before yesterday, so it had been Penelope who kept JJ company. She didn't mind, though. Penelope was her best friend and JJ loved her more than anything. It just felt different to Emily's company.

Sitting back against the couch, JJ glanced at her watch. The appointment had been for 9am and it was almost 10 past now. Normally, starting her day at 9am would be sleeping in, but she'd been waking up late for the past week or so. It had been a struggle to get into DC on time, so she hoped something hadn't happened. She didn't want to have to come back again.

Her phone vibrated and she looked at it. It was a private message from Emily. Smiling, JJ opened it.

Hey, just wanted to say that I'm around if you need to talk. Not to brag, but I've tricked plenty of therapists in my life. I can give you some tips and tricks. Anyway, don't be worried. They're used to seeing crazies.

That was a joke!

The door to the office opened and JJ jumped to her feet, still grinning from Emily's nice message. A woman in a suit entered, lips turned up in the same professional smile that JJ schooled her face into. The therapist was a dark-skinned woman with shoulder-length hair curled into a stylish bob. She wore a dark purple suit and looked amazing.

"Hello," she greeted, closing the door behind herself. She crossed the room to shake JJ's hand. "I'm Dr. Tara Lewis."

"Jennifer Jareau." Releasing her hand, JJ smoothed the back of her skirt and sat again. "Please, call me JJ."

Nodding, Dr. Lewis sat in the chair in front of JJ. "I will. You're just here for intake today, is that right?"

"Yes," JJ confirmed as Dr. Lewis pulled a notebook out of a small box beside her chair. "I have two months of counseling in all. This is my first day. Obviously."

"Relax," Dr. Lewis chuckled, raising her eyebrows. "I'm not here to find reasons to fire you. In fact, I won't even be your regular counselor. I'm filling in because Dr. Gallagher had an emergency. That's also why we started late. My apologies."

"It's not a problem," JJ assured her. She clasped her hands in her lap, trying not to look too nervous. She hadn't been to therapy before and the last time she talked to someone to make her better, it was a priest. "I'm not exactly familiar with the intake process. What do you need to know?"

Sitting back in her seat, Dr. Lewis crossed her legs and set her pad down on her lap. "Well, why don't we start with why you're here? Tell me about the incident."

'Incident' seemed like the wrong thing to call it. JJ wasn't sure what she'd prefer, though. 'The torture'? 'The trauma'? 'The kidnapping'? None of those were right either. Incident was as good a word as any.

"I was kidnapped," she started, knuckles tightening as she remembered the smell of the barn. "His name was Tobias Hankel, but he had two other personalities. One was his father, Charles, and one was the Archangel, Rafael. He held me for three days before my team saved me."

"Those are the facts," Dr. Lewis agreed, writing something down. "If you're comfortable with it, tell me about what he did to you and what you experienced."

JJ took a deep breath, nodding as she prepared to remember the worst things. "Um, he… gave me Dilaudid once or twice - cut with a psychedelic. He hit the bottom of my feet with a belt. He sliced open my cheek. With the belt." She brushed a thumb over the scar. Her stitches were out, but she had a horizontal scar beneath her eye now. "I died briefly. He saved me. Tobias. I shot him."

She just sat for a moment, staring off into the distance. He was the first person she'd ever killed, and he'd saved her life. JJ didn't know enough about DID to know if Charles and Rafael were really different people or if it had all been Tobias. It was Tobias who had saved her, though, and Tobias who had thanked her after she shot him.

"JJ?"

Blinking, JJ returned to herself and smiled at Dr. Lewis. "Sorry! It's still a little fresh."

"I'm sure." She smiled sympathetically. "Which part of what you told me made you upset?"

Licking her lips, JJ shrugged. She picked at the hem of her skirt, trying to figure out which pieces of the situation would go over best. There were so many things that she didn't want to talk about, couldn't talk about, and all of it was important contextually.

"JJ," Dr. Lewis sighed, leaning forward, "we have to talk about what's going on in order to do a full evaluation, but I'm not trying to pry your secrets out of you. I just need to know if anything is going to trigger you in the field or hinder your ability to think clearly." When JJ still hesitated, Dr. Lewis leaned back in her seat. "This is day one. We don't have to go too deep."

"Right. Ok." JJ nodded sharply, steadying herself. "I guess I'm still processing that I killed somebody."

Dr. Lewis made a note of that, nodding. She smiled at JJ. "He was the first person you shot in the field?"

"He was," she confirmed. "I usually just do witness interviews, choose cases, press conferences, talk to victims and families, coordinate with local PDs. I don't usually have to pull my gun."

Another note went into the pad and Dr. Lewis met her eyes. "Why do you say 'just'? Sounds like a lot of work to me."

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Emily sighed as she unlocked the door to her apartment. Even though they didn't end up with a case, it had been a long day. Hotch had spent hours talking them through some new procedures and Gideon had been especially grumpy about it. Between that, Reid's constant questioning about JJ, and Penelope's teasing, Emily was exhausted.

JJ had stopped by the bullpen after her therapy session. Emily thought she'd looked a little worn out, but she'd smiled and hugged everyone, even Spencer, and told them she was excited to be back in a few days. Emily had asked her if she wanted to get dinner together the night before she started working again, to catch her up on office gossip and she's said yes. Emily would feel more excited about it when she wasn't as tired.

She pushed open the door and was greeted by the sound of music playing. Milly was in the kitchen, wearing the apron Emily had bought on a whim in Prague once. She had a boombox set on the counter in the kitchen. It was playing something Emily had never heard.

Closing the door, Emily watched as Milly danced in front of the stove, stirring something that smelled amazing. The door clicked shut and Milly turned to look at her. She hurried across the kitchen to turn the music off.

"Sorry!" She came and took Emily's bag from her, setting it on the chair under the stairs. "I thought I'd have dinner ready by the time you got home."

She smiled nervously as she went back to cooking and Emily frowned. Something felt wrong about this. Wandering further into the apartment, she glanced around, surprised at how clean it all looked. After being gone on a case, crashing for a few hours, and then going back to work, the apartment should be at least a little bit messy. It was spotless, though.

"Hey," Emily said slowly, turning toward Milly, "did you clean?"

"I did!" Milly replied, looking away from the pot she was stirring to nod. "I also just moved laundry over to the dryer, so you'll have clean clothing for your go-bag."

The realization of what was wrong hit Emily like a ton of bricks. She'd spent so much time worrying about work, and about JJ, that she'd stopped thinking about Milly. At least, she'd stopped thinking about Milly beyond worrying about her safety. Somehow, she'd let Milly take over all the chores in the apartment and become her maid.

Rubbing her hands over her face, she went to the kitchen. Milly was so self-sufficient and mature that Emily forgot she was just a kid. It was so easy to let a driver take her to and from school, let her fend for herself, or pawn her off on a coworker's wife. Emily would not let herself become her mother.

"Milly," Emily said, taking the spoon she was using to stir out of her hands. She turned the stove off. "Stop."

Milly looked up at her confused. "Emily? Is something wrong?"

"I'm sorry," she sighed, tucking her hair behind her ear. "You don't need to do chores, and you don't need to be doing all the cooking. I shouldn't have put all that on you."

"You didn't," Milly protested. "I want to do it! You're letting me live here, and I should earn my keep."

Wincing, Emily quickly checked that all the burners on the stove were off. "Come on. Let's talk."

She led her daughter around the kitchen island and they climbed onto the stools. Emily wasn't sure exactly how to have this conversation. It was one she wished she'd had with her mother, but by the time she was old enough to articulate what she wanted, she was also too old to have heart-to-hearts.

"Milly," Emily started, resting an arm on the island, "I'm not 'letting you live here'. You're my daughter. I know it hasn't even been a year yet, and I know you're still adjusting to everything, but we're family now. I'm not going to kick you out if you don't cook me dinner, or do my laundry." She bit her lip, trying to think of what to say. "I'm the adult here and I should be doing whatever I can to make your life easier. I didn't adopt you to have a housekeeper."

"It's not a big deal," Milly assured her, smiling. She sat with her back straight and hands clasped in her lap, the picture of a good daughter. "I don't mind. I know your work keeps you busy."

Emily's stomach twisted unpleasantly as she remembered saying things like that when she was younger. She would make so many excuses for her mother until she just couldn't anymore. One day, she realized that work and duty weren't good enough reasons for child neglect. Emily was not going to neglect Milly, not when she'd already neglected her for 12 years.

"My work does keep me busy," Emily agreed, "but it's not more… You're just as important to me as my work is." Swallowing, Emily reached out to take Milly's hands in her own. "You're 12, Milly. You shouldn't be cooking and cleaning and taking care of me. I should be doing all of that for you."

"But you can't cook."

"I can learn," Emily pointed out defensively. She raised an eyebrow at Milly's skeptical look. "Don't make that face. I'm an adult. I can learn to cook."

Milly thought for a moment, her mouth twisting as she puzzled with her own feelings. It would have been funny how both of them struggled to have an honest conversation, but it made Emily feel guilty. She wondered if Milly had gotten that from her, the trait somehow engrained on their DNA.

She didn't know what the right move here was. Milly shouldn't grow up spoiled, with someone else doing everything for her, but she was also just a kid who'd been through a lot of shit. Emily wanted to protect her and give her a good life, but what did that mean? Even if Emily did the opposite of everything her mother did, she would mess Milly up anyway.

She also knew that there was nothing on Earth that could make her give up her job. Being a part of the BAU mattered more to her than anything. The thought made her feel terrible, and she knew that if someone put a gun to her head, she'd choose Milly, but that wasn't the situation. Emily wanted both.

"Ok," Milly finally said. She blinked at Emily, squeezing her hands. "I guess I'll let you help me."

Emily laughed at that, eyebrows shooting up at the idea that Milly would take it easy as a favor to her. "Well, good. I'm your mom now, kid. My whole deal is helping you, ok?"

Milly nodded, but she still looked unsure. She looked toward the stove. "I need to finish cooking."

With a sigh, Emily climbed off the stool. Her talk had made her feel better, but it seemed like Milly wasn't entirely convinced. She quickly tied her hair up into a ponytail.

"Take the apron off," Emily ordered. Milly opened her mouth to protest, but Emily cut her off. "I'm finishing dinner. You can tell me what to do, but I'm helping."

Grinning, Milly hopped off the stool and took the apron off. Emily put it on, frowning at the way the soft pink contrasted with her dark green blouse. It would have to do.

"It's really easy," Milly said, hurrying back to the stove. She turned it on and started stirring again. "I'm just making risotto."

"Risotto?" Emily took the spoon from her and playfully bumped her with a hip until she was out of the way. "Doesn't that have wine in it?"

Milly blushed. "I used a cup of the one that was in the fridge."

It had been a cheap bottle that Emily had bought on the way home the day before. "It's fine, but no more recipes with alcohol without me."

"Ok…" Milly pouted, but she looked into the risotto. "I really was almost done. You should taste it."

Emily did, scooping some out with a spoon. It was amazing and she hummed happily. Putting the spoon down, she winked at Milly.

"I'm a great cook," she bragged. "Truly. It was my final stir that made this dish."

Rolling her eyes, Milly flushed at the compliment. "Whatever," she mumbled. "I'll get plates."

"No," Emily said as she turned the stove off again. "I will get plates. You go pick something to watch."

"Fine."