November.

the second.

when you want something this badly, you don't just give up.
you fight and you fight and you fight
until you absolutely can't fight anymore.
- gail mchugh

It seemed to Emily that this decision couldn't possibly be the wrong one if it made JJ's face light up the way it did when she told her, if it made her kiss her like that. It was like someone had pumped her full of rocket fuel; JJ was on a high for weeks. She was the one who went to Strauss and told Strauss it was either both of them, or neither of them. A contract had turned up on Emily's desk not two days later. The contract had been stowed away in a drawer and, much as JJ kept nagging at her, Emily kept forgetting to sign it.

"I will, I will!" She assured the blonde one night, when they were in her apartment, packing up. She folded another sweatshirt and, reluctantly, put it onto the storage pile. You won't be needing these where we're going. JJ's voice rang in her ear, not for the first time, and, not for the first time, Emily found herself scowling at the pile. It was better, she reasoned, to scowl at the pile of clothing than it was to scowl at her girlfriend. Her very happy, oh-so-endlessly-cheerful girlfriend. She dropped another of her sweatshirts on the top and the precarious pile wobbled, threateningly. Emily, in a sudden and unprovoked rage, kicked at the box, and the pile collapsed in a slump on the floor. She stared, unable to even muster the will to fix it, and turned back to the suitcase that lay open on her bed. T-shirts, shorts, combats, boots, a cap or two. The basics. Her eyes shifted to the many boxes piled in the hallway. Boxes full of all of her lovely things. Her jewellery, her shoes, her make-up. All things she would have sworn blind she didn't care about a week ago. Now, she stared at the boxes with longing, wondering when she would see any of her nice things again. It was all going away. Into storage. For three years. A little over three years, actually.

1104 days, to be exact.

"You'd better, we leave in a few days," JJ's excitement had been bubbling over for days, and it was evident in her voice, as it floated in from Emily's kitchen, where the delicate clink of china told Emily she was packing up her mugs. "Strauss will be on your back about it."

Emily had chosen not to tell JJ about the six emails she'd received over the last week, reminder after reminder, each more stern than the last, about her contract. And, yet, it was still sitting in the bottom drawer of her desk, beneath a mini magnetic chessboard Spencer had bought her a few years ago for the jet. Each time she took it out and held a pen over it, her hand shook and she just...didn't sign it. Couldn't sign it. She kept expecting the strength and the will to come to her. It made no sense; wherever JJ was, that was where she wanted to be. So, why was this proving so difficult?

She set about fixing the pile of sweatshirts, stuffing them down into the box and taping it up, before carrying it out into the lounge and setting it atop the steadily growing pile. "It's getting there." She muttered, glancing around. Gone were her rugs, her carefully acquired collection of art, the photographs that had sat on the window ledge. Gone were all of Sergio's things: his bed, his bowls, all of his toys. He had been living with Garcia for several days now, and Emily missed him every moment she spent in the apartment without him there, without him curling his soft little body around her ankles and looking up at her with big, green eyes, nudging softly at her for more food, a continuous purr coming from deep within his tiny chest. The updates Garcia sent by the hour helped, but not by much.

JJ glanced at her, then away, and back again. The smile that had been plastered onto her face for days, so much so that on occasion Emily wondered how her cheeks weren't burning with the effort it must be taking, faltered a little. "Hey," She said, softly, "Are you okay?"

"Hmm?" Emily blinked at her, pulling herself out of her own head. "Oh," She ran a hand over her hair, smoothing it, "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Finished emptying my drawers. How are you getting on?"

"Mugs are all done. Plates, bowls, cutlery is all done." JJ said, proudly, as she lifted one of the heavier boxes with ease and set it down near the front door. "I just need to sort out what food in your cupboards can go to the food bank and what needs to be thrown away."

"And what can be given to Morgan," Emily smirked. JJ hummed a short laugh. She stood beside Emily, her hands in the back pockets of her jeans, as the brunette folded her arms across her chest and looked at her blank apartment. "Has it always been this big?" Emily asked, wistfully.

JJ stepped closer to her, resting her chin on Emily's shoulder and sliding her hands around her waist, tucking her thumbs into the waistband of Emily's jeans. "Don't be sad," She said, softly, running her thumbs softly up and down the tender skin of Emily's abdomen, both comforting and teasing. Emily smiled a little, and all of her resentment was gone, replaced with a desire and, if she was completely honest with herself, a little guilt.

"What do you say?" JJ muttered into her ear, "One last time in the apartment? We've got time before the party. Let's make one more memory."

And, really, who was Emily to say no to that?

"You're late!" Penelope snapped at them both, her brown eyes narrowed and accusing behind her glasses. Even when she was angry, she couldn't convey that very well on her face. Her features were too soft, her eyes too wide and childlike, her pouty little mouth too cute to be truly threatening. Still, Emily and JJ cowered beneath the gaze.

"We're sorry," JJ said, stepping into the house and pulling Penelope into a hug, knowing well enough that her friend was hiding sadness behind her snappiness. Emily accepted the hug that came after JJ's, and didn't complain when Penelope squeezed her tight enough that she had to catch her breath. Morgan did the same, wrapping an arm around her neck and pulling her into him; she let him, hiding her head in his shoulder for a moment.

Passing her a beer from the cooler, he asked, "Ready to party, Princess?"

"Surprisingly," Emily said, as she twisted off the top, "I'm not in a very party kind of mood."

"Too bad," Penelope interrupted, walking over to the stereo that had been brought outside onto the deck for the occasion. "It's Hotch's birthday. That's what we're focusing on. So, because it's his birthday, we're going to have a good time. Okay?"

"Okay," Emily and Morgan agreed, in unison.

"Okay?" JJ asked, as she wandered over with Spencer in tow.

"Penny is just bullying us into being happy," Emily explained. JJ looked from each face to the next.

"Why aren't we happy?" She asked, with a smile on her face, though her brows furrowed in confusion. "Come on, it's a party! We're happy, right? We're excited, Em?"

"Mmm," Emily hummed through a mouthful of beer, a noise that could have been agreement or disagreement, and was grateful for the noncommittal nature of the action.

They were saved from the rest of that discussion by Hotch's arrival. The raucous yell of surprise was perhaps a little less enthusiastic than usual, but he didn't seem to care or notice, smacking Rossi boyishly on the back for keeping the secret. The italian took hold of Hotch's face, pressing a kiss to each of his cheeks, and wished him a happy birthday. The rest of them followed suit, hugging him, and when he came to Emily and JJ, Hotch held onto them maybe just a little longer than the rest, though he would deny it if ever questioned.

The night passed in much the same way as all of their other gathering had; with alcohol and conversation, a little teasing and a lot of laughter. The same crazy anecdotes that had been told a thousand times before, but never got old; the story of the time Emily got drunk and crashed one of her mother's Ambassador dinners, the time JJ was climbing out of her bedroom window and fell into the holly patch, Derek's old sports injury, without which he swore blind he would have made the big leagues and so many of Rossi's romantic endeavours that by the time he was finished with the last story, they'd all forgotten the first.

Spencer was unusually quite, and it didn't take a genius like him to work out why. Emily sat beside him and he dropped his head onto her shoulder and sat quietly, like a child at a family party who sits in the corner, not really listening but comfortable and safe in the familial atmosphere. A few times, Emily caught him sniffling, but she didn't say anything, just found his hand on his knee and held it. I'm sad, too. He squeezed, and she knew he understood.

Perhaps she'd never really made the decision to leave. The contract, after all, was sitting in her desk, gathering dust. They were all set to leave in two days, and yet, Emily felt no urgency, no sense of excitement, no readiness for the adventure that they were supposed to be embarking upon. Watching JJ chatter on to Rossi about everything they were doing to do, the experiences they were going to have, Emily felt, not for the first time, that there was a huge disconnect between the two of them. She frowned across the circle of their friends, at the blonde she loved so very much. Beside her, she saw Hotch look at her, turned, met his eyes. There was an understanding there, and something that almost felt like pity.

"Jayje," Emily spoke softly. Blue eyes, dazzling with excitement and alcohol, found her. "Can I talk to you?" She nodded behind her, towards the kitchen, and JJ stood, without hesitation, to follow her. Why, Emily thought, couldn't she just do the same thing? Follow JJ to the middle East. There was a time, truly not so long ago, when she had thought she would follow JJ anywhere.

In the kitchen, in the glare of the overhead lights, she turned. The smile on JJ's face slid away as soon as she saw Emily's expression, replaced with an uneasiness and concern that only made the guilt in Emily's stomach grow heavier. "I can't sign the contract." She said, with finality.

"You-you, what?" JJ asked, as though she truly hadn't heard the words come out of Emily's mouth. "You can't sign it?" She stared, the words hanging in the air between us. Gaping, JJ opened her mouth several times, as though to speak, but the words failed her. Whether it was the alcohol or the shock of it, there was a processing error happening in her head, and she couldn't find the words she needed. Something inside of her wanted to erupt, to explode, and she feared that anything she did say would be entirely too incriminating.

"I'm sorry, Jayje," Emily said, helplessly shaking her head. "I just-I've tried. I've tried, so many times. I just couldn't."

"You just put pen to paper and write your name, Emily." JJ snapped at her. "It's really not that difficult. Unless there's more to this that you aren't telling me?"

Her blue eyes weren't soft anymore, they weren't alight with excitement anymore. They were cold and accusing and narrowed against her, and Emily felt as though she were staring into the eyes of a stranger, rather than the eyes of the woman with who, up until a few weeks ago, she'd thought she would spend the rest of her life with.

"I wish it were that easy, Jen, I really do." Emily splayed her hands out, feebly, "It's-I can't uproot my life again." Shaking her head, as though desperate for JJ to understand. "That was my whole life as a kid, you know? I finally...I'm finally home. And that has taken me so long to find." Her words were tumbling out, unstoppable now that she had started, now that she was being honest. "I'm so sorry. I know I made a promise to you. I said I'd go but...but I just can't."

"You told me you'd come with me!" JJ was shouting now, raising her voice, and Emily, in an instant, saw red.

"You made this decision without even consulting me, Jennifer!" She accused, "You had your flight booked before you even remembered I existed; as soon as Strauss offered you the job, you knew what you were doing."

JJ stared, dumbfounded and aghast. "I turned it down." She said, levelly. "For you."

"And then moped around for a week like a lost puppy, until you made me feel so guilty that I had to-"

"You had to?"

They were yelling now, really yelling. The noise of laughter and conversation from outside had subsided entirely, the music had been switched off, but neither woman cared. The shift was seismic; what had been a fun, if slightly glum party, was now a battle of wills, taking place in Rossi's kitchen.

The others, sitting out on the patio, looked uncomfortably from one face to the next, shifting in their chairs, clearing their throats. Rossi attempted to start several conversations and regardless of how enthusiastically he began, each of them slowly subsided, as the team listened to JJ and Emily's enraged screaming.

"I should-" Penelope made to stand, to go and attempt to help, but Morgan reached for her hand and shook his head, tugging gently to sit her back down. Reluctantly, Penelope did as she was bidden and her shoulder's slumped with the sorrow of it all. For a long time, there was no conversation, nothing but the sound of their friends falling apart in the kitchen. JJ's voice was shrill and hysterical, Emily's accusing and steady. Neither of them were going to give in, that much was evident. Morgan dropped his head into his hands with a huge sigh. Spencer was staring at the floor, his eyes wide and unblinking. Beside him, Hotch clapped him on the back, in an attempt at comfort.

"Great party," He quipped, nodding to Rossi, who shook his head at the beer in his hands. "Maybe Garcia's right, maybe we should intervene-"

"Bad idea, man," Morgan warned, "You don't wanna get in the middle of that."

Their intervention, however, was cut short by the slamming of the front door, and the uneasy silence that followed. It rang in their ears like a bell and then all listened, with bated breath, for any sign of life from within. Hotch's hand slid from Spencer's shoulder as he stood up and made his way into the kitchen. There, he found Emily.

She wasn't crying, not quite. She turned as he came in, her eyes still alight with the fire of their argument, but seemed to deflate when she saw that it was him. Her shoulders fell, and all of the fight seemed to leave her. Grabbing their jackets from the back of the couch, he held hers out to her.

"Come on," He said, softly, "I've only had one beer. I'll drive you home."

She didn't protest. She didn't say goodbye to the others. Hotch assured her that he would text them, to explain, but Emily didn't even care. She would see them all on Monday, anyway. They weren't the ones she had said goodbye to this evening, as had been the plan. No, instead, she'd said goodbye to the best thing that had ever happened to her.

"Am I selfish, Hotch?" In the passenger seat of his car, she was small, shrunken, meek. When she spoke, it was monotonously, without her usual sultry purr. She seemed very young and vulnerable suddenly, like a teenager stung by the first instance of heartbreak. Hotch heaved a sigh, his hands flexing around the steering wheel. Beside him, Emily was wrapped tightly in her jacket, his thrown over her bare legs for warmth.

"You're not selfish." He reassured her. "You're just...you're very different people."

As he spoke, Emily's eyes glazed, staring out of the window, but not seeing the city as it's lights flashed by her. The radio hummed quietly in the background, and, when a familiar song came on, and images of a blonde dancing around her kitchen flitted into her head, she reached out and turned it off.

"JJ needs one thing, you need another. It doesn't make either of you selfish," Hotch was saying. He shrugged again. "I wish I had the answers for you, Emily. Really, I do."

He pulled up to her apartment building and she attempted a smile of gratitude, but the most she could manage was a sort of pained grimace. No matter, Hotch understood.

"Thanks for the lift, Hotch. I guess I'll see you Monday." She laid his jacket on the passenger seat and closed the car door behind her, before he could respond.

Hesitating on her doorstep, she fumbled with the keys in her hand. She already knew the answer to her question, already knew what she was going to find behind the door. Still, she couldn't seem to bring herself to open it. Staring down at the keys in her hand, she ran her thumb over one of the key rings. It was nothing special. Just a token from the Philly museum of art. But JJ had given it to her. A little piece of Pennsylvania to carry around with her. A little piece of her.

"You don't even like Philly," Emily had shook her head, when JJ gave her the trinket. The blonde had shrugged.

"No, but I like you."

The dull thud of steps on the carpet of the hall pulled Emily back into the present and she glanced to her right just in time to see Hotch stroll around the corner. He saw the question in her eyes.

"I just wanted to make sure you're alright." He admitted, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other. She wouldn't ever tell him, but she was grateful for him, in that moment. Stepping into what she knew would be an empty and cold apartment wasn't going to be easy. At least if he was here, she couldn't fall apart.

The sheer lack of JJ hit her like a tidal wave as she stepped over the threshold into her apartment, with the boxes all piled up in the hallway; boxes she would now have to unpack, sad and alone and resentful of all the material things inside of them that she just couldn't bring herself to leave behind. Now, she strolled over to the box JJ had been packing up right before they left for the party, pulling out two mugs.

"Coffee?" She offered Hotch. He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Decaf?"

"Have you ever met me?" She couldn't help but snap back.

"Just water for me, then, Em."

Emily found a glass, buried inside of another box, among a graveyard of it's smashed friends. Great, I have to buy new glasses. She set Hotch's water in front of him, to which he muttered a low thanks, and set about brewing herself a mug of coffee. Hotch was quiet as she worked, letting her methodically move through the familiar motions, aware that, with every movement, she was grounding herself a little more. Her hand shook as she spooned coffee into the filter, and the spoon clattered onto the worktop.

"Shit," Emily cursed, closing her eyes and inhaling deeply through her nose.

"Here, I got it." Hotch ushered her over to the sofa while he set about making her coffee.

When Emily heard the phone ring, her ears perked up at Hotch's voice.

"Morgan?" He muttered, trying to be discreet. "Yeah? Good. Yeah, I'm with Emily. She's okay, though? Thanks for checking in on her. That's good. No, she's okay. I'll tell her. Yeah. Thanks, Derek, not my best birthday, but I appreciate the effort. Good night."

Even having only heard half of the conversation, Emily could make out most of what had been said. JJ was okay, at least, and, hopefully, not alone. Hotch must have called one of them while he parked the car.

"Garcia's going to stay the night with JJ." He informed her, setting her coffee on the table in front of her. "Morgan said she's okay." He hesitated at Emily's glance. "As okay as is to be expected, anyway. He said he'll call you in the morning."

"Sure." Emily responded, numbly, knowing how slim the likelihood of her picking up that phone call was. She tucked her feet up onto the couch, her chin resting on her knees, just as she had in his office the week before; looking, once more, like that lost little girl. "You can go, now."

He didn't move. For a long time, there was quite. Emily just stared, and Hotch wondered at the thoughts that must be going through her head, wishing he could say something that might help, but recognising that, for now at least, she needed the silence. Eventually, with a jarring and shaky sigh, she leaned her head heavy against his shoulder. Raising an eyebrow, Hotch tucked an arm around her shoulders, squeezing her close to him in an awkward but well-intentioned attempt at comfort. Her coffee remained untouched on the table, his glass of water was long since discarded on the counter top. Still, she was quiet, numb. She shifted repeatedly, and constantly, and Hotch was well aware that he wasn't the one she wanted right now. But he remained, his arm tight around her shoulder, grounding her, letting her know he was here. Penelope would, he had no doubt, be doing the same thing for JJ. Sighing, Hotch wondered at how two people who obviously needed each other so intensely could be so at odds with one another.

"It gets better." He muttered, eventually. She hummed a question at the back of her throat, not really listening. "This. The pain. I-The divorce was long, painful. But it gets better. Eventually, it won't hurt like this."

Because, it was, tragically and obviously, very much over between the two of them. It was as though Hotch's words triggered a realisation inside of her. Suddenly, she was crying. Wretched, painful sobs that erupted from some dark place inside of her, a place that had previously been brightened by JJ's innate light. Startled by her sudden outburst, Hotch stumbled over his words, at a loss of what to say, of how to help, before Emily curled into him, hiding her face in his neck as she sobbed. There was nothing to do, he realised, nothing to say. There was only his poor attempt at comfort, and the enormous expanse of her pain that he knew, from experience, wasn't going away any time soon.

"I'm sorry," She garbled, wiping her eyes and nose on the sleeves of her sweatshirt. She sat up, pulling away from him. Her eyes were damp, her cheeks and nose red and flushed, painted with mascara that had run with her tears. Pathetically, she wiped at her face, staining the cuffs of her jumper with make up.

"God, why couldn't I just do it?" She asked him, splaying her hands, frustrated. "Why couldn't I just commit, just go with her?"

Hotch gaped, helplessly. "Maybe-Maybe because...you're not ready." He offered, shrugging uselessly. "I know you love her, but," Hotch hesitated over his next words, a sigh heaving his shoulders before he could force himself to say the words aloud. "Sometimes it's not enough, Emily."

"I just," She stood up, gesturing to the door, "I think I need to be alone, Hotch."

"Sure," Hotch nodded, straightening his jeans as he stood up, "Of course. If that's what you need. I just wanted to be sure you were alright."

"I'm fine." She assured him. Hotch chose not to use that moment to point out that he, too, was a profiler, and that she was, very obviously, not fine. Instead, he let her lead him to the front door.

Turning in the open doorway, he frowned at her, concerned. "You're sure you're going to be okay, Emily?"

"Yeah," She attempted a half-hearted smile, purely to pacify his worry, "Yeah. I'll text you tomorrow, okay? Thanks for coming up. And, I'm uh-" She reached for his shirt, "Sorry I ruined this."

Hotch looked down at where she was grasping at his shirt, and saw the black stains her tear tracks had left. He smiled at her, softly.

"It was worth it if you're alright." He looked at her once more, before tucking his hands into his jeans and turning to leave. Emily watched him go for a moment, until he turned the corner at the end of the corridor, grateful for him, grateful for her friends. At the same time, though, she cursed them all. Maybe, if she loved them less, she'd be able to do what JJ wanted her to.

the fourth

i missed you before we ever said goodbye

When Monday came, and brought with it JJ's imminent departure, it took all of Emily's strength to get up, get dressed and head into work. She was torn between not wanting to see her and so desperately wanting to see her that she could physically feel the pain of it in her chest. Today would be the last day she went into work and JJ was there. Then, three years. Three long years. 1104 days.

So she got up, got dressed and climbed into the Lexus, feeling entirely unprepared for whatever was waiting for her at work.

As it turned out, she needn't have worried. JJ didn't seek her out, nor come to her to say goodbye. The few times Emily caught sight of her, the blonde strode with her chin up and didn't cast so much as a glance in Emily's direction. She was very obviously angry, more than anything else, and carrying it around with her like a pitchfork. Anderson came, muttering, into the bullpen and Emily caught several of his passing comments.

"...only offered to help," He was saying, "Good riddance...bad attitude."

JJ, it seemed, was having no trouble burning her bridges today, and if she'd flipped out on Anderson, Emily didn't like to think of the eruption that would happen if she attempted to make contact. How had she taken the sweetest, kindest person in the FBI and turned her into the person Anderson was cursing as he made his way back to his desk?

Nonetheless, the ache in her chest wouldn't go away, and each time JJ passed her, she almost found the courage to speak. Almost, but each time, she let the moment pass her by in the clatter of the blonde's heels on the floor, and a regretful sigh, as the words she needed died before they ever reached her lips.

At some point, she opened up the bottom drawer of her desk, tugged her contract out from beneath the mini chessboard, and dropped it into the wastepaper basket beside her desk, where it lay, discarded and staring at her, a constant reminder of her guilt. Emily dumped her coffee cup into the bin on top of it, the dark liquid staining the paper, making the ink run like her tears had down Hotch's shirt.

Stealing up the courage, finally, and tired of the uneasy glanced Morgan and Reid kept shooting her, Emily stood, straightening the jacket of her pantsuit, and made her way to JJ's office. Halting outside the door, she glanced in. In a similar scene to the one in her kitchen only a few weeks ago, JJ had her back to the door, with no idea at all that Emily was there. She was packing up the last few bits and bobs from her desk. Here, in her office, away from the prying eyes of the rest of the FBI, her chin fell to her chest, her shoulders drooped. Gone was the bravado and the aloofness she had been parading around the office with, for Emily's sake. The fake assurance had fallen away and, here, believing she was alone, JJ was vulnerable. Emily longed to comfort her, wanted to reach out and hold her, reassure her. This time, though, Emily knew that she was the cause. Emily could see it all in her stance; it was her fault JJ was feeling so dejected and so full of self-doubt. Where she should be excited and full of confidence, she was, instead, resigned and despondent. Her fingers curled around the photo frame on her desk, the one that housed a photograph of the two of them, and Emily shrank away from the door. It felt all wrong, the unease in her stomach, the feeling that she was intruding on JJ's privacy. There was a distance between them that had never been there before, even when they were strangers who barely knew each other, back when Emily was new to the team. There had been an ease between them from day one, an ease that was all gone now. That, too, was Emily's fault.

Turning to walk away from JJ's office, Emily's eyes found Penelope at the end of the corridor, looking at her with heavy eyes full of sadness. She strolled towards her, and the blonde's eyes only grew more sorrowful at the expression on her face.

"Hey, gumdrop," She said, softly, reaching out to brush her arm gently. "You doing okay?"

"Mhmm," Emily forced a smile, side-stepping her as casually as she could, and unable to speak because of the lump in her throat.

When Hotch called her up into the conference room, Emily wasn't prepared. She walked in, halting when she saw JJ standing at the head of the table. Evidently, this was the moment she had chosen to say goodbye. Emily hesitated in the doorway, unsure whether or not she should be here, but JJ opened her mouth to speak, reaching as though to stop her, and, folding her arms across her chest, Emily stepped, reluctantly, into the room.

"I just wanted to get you guys all together," JJ was saying, glancing around at the present company, "To say goodbye. I should have done it Saturday night, but..." She trailed off, and Emily's stomach coiled, uncomfortable. "I didn't know what to say, honestly. So...Strauss made me fill out an exit interiview, and I figured I'd just read what I wrote on there."

Emily realised, for the first time, that JJ was holding a piece of paper in her hands, and shifted her weight as she waited for the blonde to speak. JJ clearned her throat, shaking out the paper.

"I'm thankful for my years spent with this family, for everything we shared, every chance we had to grow." She started out strong, but as she went on, her voice began to tremble ever so slightly. "I'll take the best of them with me and lead by their example, wherever I go. This isn't what I've always wanted, but it's a dream I've come to accept I've had for a while, and an opportunity I'm grateful to take." She paused, dropping the arm holding the paper down to her side, and raised her shoulders in a shrug, dropping them, heavily. "I don't know. Maybe it's because I look at everything as a lesson, or because I don't want to walk around angry, or maybe it's because I finally understand. There are things we don't want to happen but have to accept, things we don't want to know but have to learn, and people we can't live without but have to let go." She met Emily's eyes with those last words, and then fell quiet. The room was silent a moment, and then Penelope moved, pulling JJ into a tight hug. The others crowded around her, each waiting for their turn to embrace her. Emily remained by the door a moment, lingering, unsure of her place here, whether she was entitled to a hug or not.

Turning, she decided not, and headed down back down to her desk, sitting down and turning back to the computer screen. She stared at the screen, unseeing, and tapped her fingers, distractedly, on the wooden top of her desk. Her eyes flitted from the computer screen to the conference room, where she could see Hotch was now hugging JJ. She tried not to watch, but her eyes betrayed her, flitting every few seconds up to where the rest of her team were saying goodbye to her girlfriend. She was technically still her girlfriend, after all; they'd never actually broken up in so many words, although it had, of course, been implied.

When JJ emerged from the conference room, with her laptop bag slung over her shoulder, and Derek's arm around her, Emily forced herself not to look. She stared, unseeing, at the document in front of her eyes, scrolling aimlessly, to give the appearance that she was busy, and not dying inside.

JJ passed her without so much as a glance, though Emily heard her footsteps falter on the carpet as she walked past. Her dark eyes fell closed as she heard the swing of the doors behind her, and she knew JJ was about to be gone. For three years. Opening her eyes, Emily found the whole team staring at her. With a shake of her head that made the curls around her face sway, she shoved herself up out of her chair and raced her way towards the doors.

The elevator dinged as she made it onto the corridor, and Emily was just in time to see the door begin to slide shut behind JJ. Without a second thought, she thrust her hand in the way of the door, pushing it open again.

"Emily-" JJ's eyes were wide with shock and confusion, but she didn't have a chance to say anything before Emily's lips were pressed against her own. Emily's hands held her face, spreading up into her hair, and she backed JJ against the back wall of the elevator. The blonde's delicate hands found her waist, grasping tightly at her blazer, and Emily felt the push back as JJ kissed her with equal fervour.

"I couldn't-" Emily was shaking her head, trying to talk in between kisses, "Jayje, I couldn't just let you leave-"

"I know," JJ brushed the hair out of her face, nodding, "I know, Em. It's okay." She punctuated her statement with a particularly deep kiss, as though to reassure her further.

"I'm sorry," She was all too aware of the elevator, and it's imminent arrival at the ground floor, "I'm so sorry."

Jennifer pulled her into a hug, holding Emily tight against her. It wasn't okay as she had said, and they both knew that. But there was no time for arguing now; JJ didn't want to spend their last moments together arguing. Who knew where either of them would be in three years from now? Closing her eyes, JJ gave herself over to the feel of Emily wrapped around her, committing everything about her embrace to memory.

Then, the doors opened behind her, but still Emily clung to her.

"Em-" JJ's voice was thick with emotion, and she unwound her arms from around Emily, bracing her palms against the brunette's hips. "Em," She pleaded, grasping at the fabric of her blazer again. "My cab's here, Em. I have to go."

Emily squeezed her eyes tight closed, and gave herself a moment more before stepping to the side, giving JJ a clear path out of the elevator. She couldn't watch her go, training her eyes on the back wall of the elevator. JJ stared, and there was a moment where she would have stayed, if Emily had asked. But Emily couldn't meet her eyes, and the moment passed, silent and fleeting, and then, with a sigh and swift movements, JJ was gone.

the weeks that followed

and now, night has fallen and I sit here and think about you
and I wonder if you're thinking about me, too.

ln the weeks that followed, Emily and JJ tried to navigate the new dynamic of their relationship. It proved difficult, what with JJ on the other side of the world. At the end of a work day, Emily couldn't call JJ, because it was two or three o'clock in the morning in Afghanistan. Occasionally, when JJ woke up early enough, she would be able to catch Emily, but those conversations were always cut short because JJ had to head into work herself. Still, it was better than not hearing from her at all.

Emily would spend her evenings in her apartment, because if she went out, she couldn't be sure she wouldn't miss a phone call from JJ, and staying in to wait for that was more important. Derek would ask, repeatedly, each time the team headed out for drinks, but Emily would make her excuses. If they were in a loud, crowded bar, she might miss JJ's call. So she spent her nights at home, in front of TV shows she wasn't taking any notice of, or curled up on the couch with a book she wasn't really reading, waiting for her phone to ring. It had been noted by the team that it was very unlike Emily to spend her nights in, alone. Each time they went out without her, it felt wrong. Her absence, as well as JJ's, made all of the difference, and they found themselves heading home much earlier than usual.

The only time she got out of the house was when she and Hotch went running. It had been his idea, months ago, to do the FBI triathlon and, much as he'd asked, neither Rossi nor Morgan would do it with him, and he had known better than to ask Spencer in the first place. Eventually, Emily had caved and told him she would train with him, unaware of what the coming months would bring, and how they would turn her life upside down. Initially, immediately after JJ's departure, she'd tried to get out of it, but Hotch wouldn't hear of it.

"It'll do you good, Emily," He had insisted, "Get you out of the house, for something other than work-" He clarified, when she opened her mouth to argue back at him, and she scowled, because he'd taken her words right out of her mouth. "The exercise will be good for you, you know? Get your blood pumping, and what not."

She was still unconvinced, so Hotch pulled out the big guns. "Plus," He pointed out, "You promised me." Emily had rolled her eyes at that, but Hotch was right, on all accounts. It would be good for her, she did need the distraction and she had promised. So, each Sunday morning found her in the park with Hotch, come rain or shine, hangover or no hangover, doing laps. Or down at the pool, out-swimming him easily. The only part of the triathlon that Hotch was better at was biking. It wasn't supposed to be a competition, but their relationship had been built on competitiveness, and so they naturally fell into the habit of racing one another. Regardless of the early mornings that Hotch insisted on, Emily quickly found herself looking forward to Sundays, more so than any other day.

"It's been great, you know?" She told JJ, during one of their late evening-early morning phone calls. "It's good to be running again, it's been years since I've actually stuck to it. I forgot how good exercise feels outside of a gym."

"That's great, Em!" JJ said, but Emily could hear in her voice that she was distracted. On the other end of the line, she heard the rustling of papers. "That's really great."

"Jayje?" Emily said, and got no response. She cleared her throat. "JJ?"

"Yeah?" JJ's voice lilted, as she zoned back into the conversation. "I'm sorry, Em. I'm just-I'm reading through a file of one of our victims. It's horrific what some of these women have been through, and the kids, my god, the kids. I wish you were here, Em, you'd be so great..." She trailed off, as it dawned on her what she had said. It hung in the air between them, like it always did, whenever they were reminded of the way things had been left between them.

In all the weeks between now and JJ's departure, they've never talked about it. Each time it came up, they skirted around the subject, moving onto a less precarious topic. But it was still there, and they both knew it.

"Em, I should go," JJ said, glossing over their awkward moment poorly, "I gotta get up and ready, I'm meeting with Strauss over Skype in an hour or so. I'll speak to you soon, okay?"

Emily bit her tongue, stopped herself from pointing out that the last time she'd said that was a week ago, and Emily had been waiting for this call since then. Instead, she inhaled for a long while, to steady herself. "Yeah," She exhaled on the word, "Yeah, sure. Speak to you soon. I love yo-" The line had clicked dead before she had a chance to finish her words and Emily took the phone from her ear to stare at it, telling herself that JJ's signal must have gone bad, as it had so many times over the past few weeks.

Another week went by without a call from JJ, and then another. Emily sent texts, getting only short responses, if she got any response at all. With each day that passed, Emily grew more worried and more fretful. She sent text after text after text, well aware that anyone who looked at a transcript of their messages would think her crazy and possessive. She knew she should stop, that JJ would get back to her whenever she had a moment, but knowing her girlfriend was at the centre of conflict in the middle of a war torn country did absolutely nothing to quell Emily's anxiety.

Each time JJ finally got back to her, though, she was perfectly fine. All of their conversations started with some variation of "Oh, my god, Emily, you'll never guess what I did today!" and each time, Emily felt her resentment grow a little bit more, well aware of how unfair it was that she was bitter about the lack of time JJ had for her now, and the fact that, while JJ was apparently having the time of her life, doing truly good work, she was spending her nights waiting around for her to call, and going to bed disappointed and despondent and painfully anxious on nights when she didn't.

And, much as she hated to admit it, Emily knew what was at the root of her problem. She was spending her nights worrying about JJ, missing JJ.

JJ, on the other hand, didn't seem to be missing her, at all.