December.
i'm right where you left me
December came slowly, each day that JJ didn't call dragging by at an agonizing pace.
With it came blood chilling rain and arctic winds, dark, frosty mornings and even darker, colder evenings. As was always the case in Winter, their cases were harder, their days longer, their moods made worse by the dark and the chill. Without JJ there to boost morale, this year seemed even worse than usual. Her absence weighed heavily on them all, a shadow that filtered into every room where they were, and she wasn't, but Emily felt it most of all. She didn't have it in her to even try and act as though she didn't.
Retreating into herself, and without the motivation to even attempt to pull herself out of it, the only time Emily seemed to perk up was on days she was expecting a call from JJ, but then when those calls inevitably fell through, for one reason or another, she would be even more dour and quiet than before. They all noticed it. It was impossible not to.
Garcia tried; of course she did. She hung around Emily's desk more often than she ever had before and brought with her coffees and funny stories, any attempt, really, to make Emily smile. The coffee helped a little, but more often than not the stories featured a certain absent blonde, and then Emily was right back where she had started. Morgan, who knew better than to try and force joy on Emily, would shake his head, but a stern look from the blonde would have him jumping in on the conversation. Reid was much more reluctant to engage. He would regard Emily with concerned and sympathetic expressions from afar, and he thought he was being discreet. He wasn't. Rossi took every opportunity he could find to lay a hand on her shoulder. He did it casually, or, at least, he tried to. Emily, however, didn't miss a trick. She knew what they were all doing; in fact, it was only the incessant stories, forced laughter, anxious gazes, comforting touches and million cups of coffee on her desk that made her snap out of it. Or, at least, begin to hide it better.
the fifth
listening is often the only thing we need to do to help somebody
The only one who was actually making her feel better was Hotch. And he wasn't even really trying.
Even on the darkest and wettest of Sunday mornings, Hotch was still turning up at her apartment at 8am, still forcing her to go for their weekly training session. Part of her resented him for it, but another part of her knew that training was the only time she wasn't thinking about JJ, and, for her own sanity, she desperately needed the mental break. So, come rain or shine, and with shine being the much less likely, she got up, got dressed, piled on layers of clothing that would inevitably come off piece by piece as she grew warm from running, and headed out into the cold to run around the park with her boss.
One particularly crisp Sunday morning at the beginning of December, following yet another evening when Emily had waited up until 3am for a call that never came, they ran for an hour in silence. Hotch kept glancing at her as though he wanted to speak, but Emily kept her eyes forwards, and tried to concentrate on her running, on her breathing, on anything but the rage she felt bubbling in her chest. She did everything she could to dissuade him from asking the questions she knew he wanted to. It was days like this that Emily longed for the days when she and Hotch didn't get along; that Hotch would have let her wallow in peace.
They came to a bench, the same one where they always took their break, and Hotch sat down, leaning forwards with his elbows on his knees to catch his breath. Emily paced. Putting her bottle to her lips, she drank down the water that was so cold it chilled her chest. Still, she didn't look at Hotch, but she could see out of the corner of his eye that he was watching her.
"I'm fine." She finally snapped, answering his silent question.
"Yeah, you seem fine." He quipped back, dry and sarcastic. Emily finally turned to him, glaring at him from between long lashes. His gaze didn't falter, he simply looked at her, one eyebrow raised ever so slightly, waiting for her to make the next move. She knew that look; it was textbook Hotch.
With a sigh, Emily flung herself down on the bench beside him, slumping against the cold metal, and Hotch had to hold back the smirk that wanted to twitch his lips up at her childish display. He waited, watching as she huffed another sigh, her breath forming a smoky cloud against the icy cold air of the day. It distracted her for a moment, as it would a child, and she blew her breath out again, watching the small, misty cloud that appeared. When the novelty of the cold day wore off, she turned, eyes finding Hotch's, that hadn't left her face for a moment. His eyebrow was still raised, he was still waiting. From where she had slumped down on the bench, she had to look up at him and she felt very much like a petulant teenager having a tantrum.
"I miss her." She admitted, finally, though there was no sadness in her voice, only annoyance at having to say the words aloud. Hotch's expression didn't change; this wasn't news. She tried again, her mouth opening and closing, gaping like a fish on dry land, unable to put the words together. Eventually, she just sighed again and heaved a shrug. "That's it. I just...I miss her, Hotch." Her voice cracked this time and, annoyed, Emily growled, shoving herself into a more raised seating position. She copied his stance, leaning her elbows on her knees and looking out across the lake, taking a moment to regain her composure before she burst out crying in front of her boss.
He didn't say anything, didn't push her, he just sat with her. She was grateful, for his silence and for his presence.
She felt the cold creep into her bones as the warmth of their run died away; they needed to get moving again soon, but Emily couldn't bring herself to stand up yet, and Hotch wasn't about to force her to. So they sat. She started to shiver, and still she couldn't move. Something kept her grounded, holding her in this moment, as though to do so was to delay the inevitable. When she felt the first icy drops of rain on her cheeks, she knew her moment was over, time had to start up again. Turning to look at Hotch, she wiped the rain from her cheek like it were a tear.
"Long distance is hard." It was an effort for her to keep her voice steady, but she managed it, somehow. Hotch nodded now.
"On you both." He said, as though as a gentle reminder. She locked her eyes with his, and saw the truth there. She'd been so wrapped up in her own side of things, she hadn't stopped for a moment to consider JJ's. With an annoyed exclamation that came like a growl from her chest, she dropped her head into her hands.
"That's what you had me sit in the cold for half an hour to realise, Hotch?" She demanded, "For gods sake, couldn't you have cut to the chase a little sooner?"
She stood up, taking off swiftly, but not before landing a dig on his arm as she passed him, heading back in the direction they had come.
the tenth
guilty, guilty, reaching out across the sea
that you put between you and me
For the next few days, Emily pondered Hotch's words. She knew he was right. She knew that, much as she was struggling with the long distance, there was every chance that JJ, too, was struggling. In fact, she knew it was selfish and unrealistic of her to assume that JJ wasn't having as much of a hard time as she was; out in the desert, without her friends, JJ was probably struggling even more. It was very likely, in fact, that JJ was feeling lonely, isolated. The realisation made Emily feel guilty, made her hate that she had been wallowing in her own misery, instead of giving JJ the benefit of the doubt. It had been weeks, now, since they'd spoken on the phone; the most she'd gotten was a few drop in emails, short ones that barely let her know that JJ was alive.
hi em, missing you so much. call soon ok?
or
still out here, still missing you. i'll try and get through soon- signal has been down a few days.
or
sorry i missed our call last night- signal tower dropped out. i miss you. i'm sorry.
She was always apologetic, and Emily always replied with reassurance, telling her it was fine, not to worry, regardless of how irritated or upset she was. Her irritation was never directed towards JJ, or at least, that's what she told herself to make herself feel better. She was angry at the lack of signal, at the situation in general, at the cell tower that had gone down; but never at JJ. It wasn't JJ she was mad at when she slammed her laptop shut, or threw herself into bed at 4am to cry with frustration at yet another failed phone call.
This was why. This was the reason; why she avoided feelings and relationships and all of this awful messy stuff that had her crying in the early hours of the morning. It had been years since she'd let herself love anybody like this; the last person she'd fallen in love with had been a terrorist. That had been it's own kind of complicated. After Ian, she'd sworn off love. But she had made that same promise several decades earlier, when two little lines appeared on a test, and the boy she'd thought she loved was nowhere to be found. So, when JJ happened...again, she fell. And JJ was different to anything that had come before. Pure and good and better than Emily knew she deserved. She had gotten comfortable, let herself settle into their relationship, allowed herself to rely on it. And then JJ had torn it from beneath her feet.
They were in North Carolina. The profile had been given, now it was a waiting game. They'd been there for four days chasing this unsub, running increasingly on empty from a lack of sleep. Emily sat alone in the conference room; the rest of them were either back at the hotel not sleeping or somewhere around the precinct. Hotch had gone to phone Jack before bed, Rossi had gone for coffee. And Emily sat there, alone and lonely, spinning her mobile phone in her hand between her fingers. She leaned her elbows on her knees and pulled up JJ's contact in her phone. Her thumb hovered over the call button for a long time, and was still there, inches above her screen, when Rossi came back into the room, two large cups of coffee in his hands.
"Here, cara," He set one on the table beside her, and Emily glanced up from her screen to meet his eyes to thank him. The words didn't leave her lips, but she managed a short smile. It was with a heavy sigh that Rossi sat on the seat beside her own, resting a palm on his knee and putting the coffee to his lips. "It's been a difficult one, huh?"
"What?" Distracted as she was, it took Emily a moment to understand what he was referring to. "Oh, the case. Yeah, awful. I'm exhausted."
"I know you are, Emilia," He looked at her, gravely. It was different to the expression Hotch had work earlier in the week, but somehow it conveyed the same level of understanding and care and Emily had no difficulty interpreting what it meant. This time, though, she didn't comment, she just set down the phone, picked up her coffee and took a sip. It was bad, too sharp, astringent, but she drank it down, anyway. All police station coffee tasted the same, after a while. It had been a long time since Emily had turned down a cup; she almost didn't care about the taste anymore. Right now, she wasn't drinking for the drink, anyway, but to avoid answering Rossi's silent questions.
Perceptive as ever, Rossi didn't try and push her. He sat with her, in the quiet, and drank down his coffee.
When the phone flashed up with JJ's name and picture, they both looked at it. For a moment, Emily couldn't breathe. She knew what had to come next. Rossi looked at her with sympathy, rested his hand momentarily on her knee, then stood up and left, closing the door softly behind him.
"Hello?" Emily's voice was flat. JJ's, when it came back, was light, excited.
"Em!" The exclamation of her own name down the line, said with such excitement, was like an explosion in Emily's ear. She flinched away from JJ's voice. "Hi, baby. God, I've been trying to get through for over an hour. Cell service has been down for days."
"Days?" Emily asked, trying to keep the passive aggression out of her voice, "I've not heard from you in almost two weeks, Jayje."
A pause. "I know," The excitement was gone from JJ's voice now, replaced by something heavier; a wariness that Emily had never heard directed towards her before. It was unsettling, uncomfortable. Emily squirmed in her seat, cleared her throat, lifted the coffee cup then set it down again without putting it to her lips.
What followed was the most difficult conversation Emily had ever had. On the other end of the phone, JJ was quiet and stoic. She listened to everything Emily had to say, she didn't argue with any of it. By the end, there were silent tears streaming down the blonde's face, but she let them come, she didn't even sniffle; she didn't want Emily to hear her cry.
In some way, she'd known this was how it would end. It was why she'd cried on the plane, why she barely slept for her first few weeks in Afghanistan. It was why, whenever she did get through to Emily on the phone, she tried to be as bright, as joyful as possible. She wanted Emily to remember their better times. She hadn't anticipated what it would really do; make Emily feel as though JJ didn't miss or need her. And now, it was too late to tell her otherwise. Once Emily's mind was made up, they both knew there was no changing it.
"I'm sorry, Jen," Emily wasn't crying. She had fallen into an old habit; compartmentalisation. Even as they spoke, she was folding JJ up in her mind, to fit her into a little drawer she could close and lock, at least for a little while. If she confronted this right now, if she let it in, let herself acknowledge the reality of what she was doing, she wouldn't be able to go through with it. And she had to go through with it, for them both. "This is taking a toll on us both. I think we have to be realistic. You understand, don't you?"
JJ was quiet a moment, and Emily didn't know it was because of the lump in her throat that, if she opened her mouth, would explode in a scream, or a cry. Whichever it was, she wouldn't subject Emily to it. Emily, however, took her silence as anger.
"I'm so sorry," She said, again, quietly. Still, her voice maintained the monotony designed to protect them both. "I still love you Jayje. So much."
JJ cleared her throat, tried to make her voice as level as possible, and somehow succeeded. When she replied, it was with a startling lack of emotion. "I love you, too." She said, softly. "And I understand, Emily."
This time, the silence that followed was heavy, full of things they both wanted to say, but knew they shouldn't, or couldn't. It was over. The reality settled heavily onto JJ's shoulders, while, for Emily, she felt as though the black rain cloud that had been following her around for over a month now, was finally drifting away. Truthfully, Emily had been feeling the effects of their pending break up for weeks; she had been preparing herself for this eventually. It stung, but the sting wasn't new for her, it was more like a dull ache, by now.
"I have to go," A small voice came from the other end of the line, and Emily knew, now, that JJ was crying. She closed her eyes, guilt and a yearning to comfort her surging in her chest. She longed to reach down the phone and wrap her arms around the blonde, to take it all back, tell her they could work it out. But, this time, that just didn't feel like it was true, so she didn't say it. She could lie easily to everybody, including herself, but never to JJ.
"Yeah," She agreed, "Okay."
More silence, followed by the the white noise of JJ hanging up the phone. There were no I love yous, no I'll call you soons, because JJ couldn't bring herself to say it if it wasn't true. She also couldn't say goodbye and not know whether it would be for the last time.
After JJ hung up, Emily stayed there, frozen in the moment, for a long time. She wanted to feel devastated, morose, heart-broken. Instead, there was a lightness that came at the end of the call. It wasn't happiness. She knew she was a long way off of happiness. But, and she hated herself for even considering it, there was a relief. There would be no more waiting, no more wondering why JJ wasn't calling. Now, she would know why. The silence would deafen her, still, but at least now, she knew it would last. She wasn't waiting for a light in that darkness anymore. She couldn't.
When the team returned, it was to a quiet Emily, and, because they were all exhausted, they didn't think anything of it.
the eighteenth
and once it has finished teaching you, the pain will leave
Slowly, Emily came back to herself.
It was nice to see her stroll around the office with a smile on her face, instead of the intense, morose frown they'd grown accustomed to her wearing. It was nice to find her at the coffee station, and to have her offer a cup if you found yourself there with her, instead of the dull silence she'd resigned herself to for weeks before. And, slowly but surely, they watched the metamorphosis, in the same way that they had watched her turn from Emily into a dull shadow of herself, as the reverse happened, and she came back to her body.
They didn't ask, but they didn't have to. Emily didn't tell, but JJ did. She told Penelope, who told Derek, who told Spencer, and, by then, Hotch and Rossi didn't need telling; they'd heard it on the wind. No one voiced their condolences aloud to Emily over the death of her relationship, but, again, they found their own ways to let her know they were there for her. This time, though, Emily accepted the coffees Garcia brought her with a smile, and when Derek tried to make conversation, she involved herself, and laughed along with him and Reid. Rossi read her better than the others, and returned to some semblance of normalcy. JJ's absence was still felt, but, slowly, they were adjusting to their new normal, and now, that included Emily.
After weeks of cases, Emily found herself with an unusual and unwanted free Saturday. It was the first time she had time to stop and take stock of what she had done. Instead, she busied herself with tidying the apartment, reorganising her closet, grocery shopping. She picked up all of the ingredients for an Italian meal Rossi had taught her to make, then abandoned her basket in the middle of the aisle in the grocery store because she remembered it was JJ's favourite meal. Instead, she stopped at a cafe on the way home and grabbed a black coffee.
Outside of her apartment building, she paused. It was cold, and she pulled her coat tight around her slim frame, but couldn't quite bring herself to climb the few steps that would take her inside, into the warmth. Although there was a relief that had come with their break up, it was still raw, and being alone in her apartment just reminded her of JJ's absence. Instead, she turned towards the park, where she and Hotch ran on a Sunday morning. Today, she would walk their route, alone.
She was halfway around the path they took when her phone rang and, juggling the coffee cup in her hand, she fished her phone out of her pocket.
"Emily?" It was Hotch.
"Yeah. Do we have a case?" She was ashamed of the hope in her voice, but also in need of a distraction.
"No, no, this is a personal call." He sounded almost apologetic on the other end, but Emily raised her eyebrows, curious. "I feel weird asking you this, but...do you have a few hours spare this evening when you could mind Jack? I've got to," He dropped his voice to a lower volume, "Go Christmas shopping." Jack must be within earshot, she deduced.
"Oh," She hesitated a moment.
"I wouldn't ask if I wasn't desperate," Hotch was still apologising, and there was a plea in his voice.
She didn't have anything else to do, and she didn't want to go home. They were the deciding factors that made her say yes, and she heard Hotch sigh with relief and gratitude on the other end of the phone.
When she arrived at Hotch's flat several hours later, it was to Jack sitting at the dining table eating takeout pizza, already bathed and in his pyjamas. The television was on, playing a show that Jack told her was called Henry Danger, and he watched it in silence as he ate.
"Thanks for this," Hotch muttered to her, quietly, as they went into the kitchen. "Coffee?"
"I've had enough caffeine for today, I think," Emily waved his offer off, and accepted a glass of water instead. "It's fine, by the way. Not like I had anything else to do tonight." She didn't mean for it to come out so bitterly, but by the time she had a chance to consider how that sounded, the words were already floating between them. "I mean...I guess that's a good thing. I'm not sitting at home waiting for phone calls anymore. You know?"
"Have you talked to anyone about it?" Hotch asked, brow furrowed. "Morgan? Or Garcia?"
Emily shook her head, ponytail swishing across the back of her neck. "No," She shrugged a little. "There's nothing to say, really. What's done is done, right?" She shrugged, but her shoulders felt heavy.
Hotch frowned at her. "Right." He agreed, but he didn't look convinced.
After he left, she sat down on the sofa with Jack and let him show her his favourite episodes of Henry Danger and they finished the pizza off together. It was, from what Emily had seen of children's television, typical. Hidden identities, a trio of friends getting themselves and others into comical scrapes, the annoying sibling. She even laughed at some of the humour, and found herself watching purely for the mindlessness of it. In fact, she got so into it, that by the time she checked her watch, it was 8:30. She cursed under her breath, then glanced at Jack to see if he'd heard.
He was sat beside her and, at some point, had slumped so that he was leaning against her, his head cushioned against her chest. His little mouth hung open, catching flies, and his eyes were shut tight. He had fallen asleep.
As she watched the tiny boy's chest rise and fall, and felt his breathing against her arm, where it had tucked him in against her, she felt a tightness in her chest, and her breath caught in her throat at the suddenness of her emotion.
It was, she realised, not only JJ that she had lost. It was everything. Their future together, the possibility of living together, marriage. Children. All of the things they'd spoken about in hushed tones in the middle of the night, tiny promises they'd made to each other, baby names they'd playfully come up with, idealistic familial scenarios they came up with, their heads ducked together, foreheads pressed against one another, fingers intertwined between naked, exhausted bodies. It was all gone. All of their what ifs. There would be no more. She was starting again. They both were.
The shock of it took Emily by surprise, and she had to cover her mouth as a sob wracked her body, fearful of waking the sleeping boy beside her. Slowly, resting one hand behind his head to lay him down against the cushions, Emily extracted herself from Jack, and ran to the bathroom.
She was grateful for the water she'd drank when she threw up her pizza.
Afterwards, she sat on Hotch's cold, tiled bathroom floor and let her breathing slow. Reality had slammed into her like a freight train and left her empty. That was where Hotch found her when he arrived home ten minutes later. His initial panic at seeing Jack alone in the lounge subsided when Emily emerged, with red-rimmed eyes, from the bathroom. His shoulders, tense and coiled, relaxed into something like pity, and he set down the bags he was holding and moved towards her without hesitation.
When her boss's arms found their way around her, Emily didn't have it in her to fight. She needed to be held, to be comforted. She thanked him, wordlessly, leaning her head against his chest, and Hotch didn't say anything. He didn't need to.
The next day, when he arrived at her flat for their run, neither of them mentioned it.
christmas day
christmas waves a magic wand over the world, and behold,
everything is softer and more beautiful
Emily slept in on Christmas morning. There was nobody to rise for. No presents to give, save for the little stocking of treats Penelope had put together for Sergio. She hadn't even bothered putting up a tree this year, so there weren't even any lights to turn on. Christmas dinner this year would be Chinese, if she even felt like eating, which seemed likely when she woke up at 1pm to her stomach growling. Sergio was purring nearby, nuzzling into her hand, so she knew he was hungry.
"Alright, alright," She mumbled, throwing back the bedspread. The floor was freezing cold beneath her bare feet and Emily stepped hurriedly across it to her chest of drawers, searching for a pair of socks, stepping from one foot to the other while she searched, trying to ward off the cold.
She put down a dish of food for Sergio, as well as letting him inspect his stocking. There were several packets of his favourite treats, as well as a tub of catnip that Penelope swore he would go crazy for, but warned he couldn't have too much of at one time. Emily regarded the little tub cautiously, but when she glanced down at Sergio, he was rolling around on his back like a kitten. For the first time in a while, that had Emily laughing. She was still laughing, really belly laughing, when she pulled out her phone and sent Penny a video of Sergio going crazy for the catnip.
He's having the best Christmas, ever.
And what about you, kitten?
It's quiet, but fine.
Half an hour and a shower later, Emily's phone rang.
"Emilia, cara, get dressed. I'm hosting Christmas dinner for everybody. I'm sending a cab for you. Be ready in an hour." Emily didn't have time to say so much as a no before the Italian was hanging up. She literally hadn't been able to say a word, and she knew, instinctively, that this was Penelope's handy work. She didn't even have time to be angry about it, with only an hour to get ready.
"Bit short notice, huh, Rossi," Emily smiled as he pulled her in, kissing one cheek then the other.
"Merry Christmas to you too, tesoro," He grinned at her.
Rossi's house was decorated in a way that Emily thought would put St Nick himself to shame. There was a real tree in the foyer, strung with lights and baubles. An enormous, full garland wound around the dark wood banister, all the way up the stairs. That, too, was lit with warm golden lights and adorned with sprigs of holly. There was mistletoe hanging in each of the doorways, and wreaths across the windows. A second tree stood in the kitchen, a third in the lounge, and every tree in the garden had been strung with warm lights.
But it was the tree in the dining room that was the most impressive. At least eight feet tall, almost as wide across, it was hung with beautiful stained glass decorations, silver bells and bright, white lights. The table was laid for five with silver plates and red napkins, tied with ornate golden napkin holders in the shape of holly leaves, complete with red berries that Emily recognised as real rubies. It was all very beautiful, very Christmassy and very Rossi.
Already seated around the table were Reid and Penelope. Rossi sat at the head of the table as she greeted the others.
"No Morgan?" Emily asked, as she hugged Penelope.
"With his mom and sisters," She answered. "It's his favourite time of year because he gets to feel like a little kid again, only with alcohol." As she said it, she produced a glass of champagne for Emily, who took it, gratefully.
"So, who's the fifth seat for?"
"Hotch," Rossi clarified, just as the doorbell went. "That'll be him now."
He excused himself to answer the door as Emily took her seat at the table. It looked set to be a quiet Christmas, but that was fine by her. She'd been ready for an even quieter, lonely one, after all. Hotch came in, wearing jeans and a Christmas jumper with Santa on the front, halfway stuck down a chimney, his mouth agape with shock. The sight of her boss in such a flamboyant and comical jumper made Emily laugh as he greeted them all.
"So, forget your kid?" She asked him, lightly, and was rewarded with a chuckle.
"Haley's parents have him tonight. We've never gotten along, even less so since the divorce and Haley's death," His eyes dropped for a moment, but Emily saw the flash of pain there, nonetheless, "So rather than me taking him to see them and it being awkward for everyone, I had him Christmas Eve and this morning for presents, and he's gone to them for Dinner and Christmas night."
Emily regarded him with a soft smile. "That was a really nice thing for you to do, Hotch." She was sincere, and he returned her smile gratefully. She knew it must be difficult to have the holidays without Jack, especially since Haley's loss was so raw for them both, so when she laid her hand on his arm, it was a gesture of comfort, reminiscent of the one he'd given her only a few days before.
There was a closeness between them that had been growing for a long time. Emily still remembered when she'd first started working at the BAU: Hotch hadn't trusted her at all, and with good reason given what Strauss tried to make her do. The intervening years had forged a bond between them. Emily trusted Hotch with her life, and hoped he felt the same. So, when she lay her hand on his arm, he looked at her with a smile, and he understood. She, too, was hurting this Christmas. Not in the same way, but she could recognise that, even if the smile he wore wasn't quite fake, it didn't come easily, either.
Dinner was beautiful, and it should have been, for the amount of money Rossi paid the caterers. It was five courses so delectable that by the time they came to the turkey, they were already almost full, and the profuse amount of alcohol at the table didn't help. Still, Emily thought, by the end of the meal, it was the best Christmas Dinner she'd eaten since she was a child and spending Christmas in Europe. And, somehow, Christmas day, a day she had been dreading for months, was shaping up to be quite enjoyable. The highlight of dinner was when they pulled crackers, and Hotch ended up with a bright pink paper hat on his head. He wore it wonky, probably because of the wine Garcia kept pouring into his glass, and didn't even seem to notice. Reid was reeling off some facts about where cracker pulling originated, and how it was much more popular in Europe than the states, but they weren't really listening.
By the time they came to the cake, they were barely able to take more than a forkful of the pudding. They were simply too full of food, drink and Christmas spirit.
"You always throw a good party, Rossi, but Derek and JJ really missed out this time." Penelope said, with a little hiccup.
At the mention of JJ's name, all of the eyes around the table shot towards Emily. It was only a moment, barely a second, but she paused, with her drink partway to her lips, as she felt the weight of their gazes on her. Then, she continued as though nothing had happened, taking a longer sip of her wine than she had intended to.
"I've missed them both today." Reid said, softly. He meant no harm, and he caused none, but the shift had already happened. It was as though they thought mention of JJ's name would remind Emily of her absence, as though Emily couldn't already feel it in her bones. She was the only one who could diffuse the situation, so as she set her glass back down, she folded her hand over his on top of the tablecloth, and offered him a warm smile.
"I miss them both, too," She agreed. It was as though everyone could breathe again, and Emily felt the tension seep away, replaced with a blanket of warm solidarity; an understanding that there were two members of their little group missing, and it was okay to miss them. Derek, of course, was missed frankly, in an uncomplicated way. They would see him again on Monday, and Penelope would try to convince him that next year, he should spend Christmas with them. Jennifer, however, was missed deeply, like the final piece of an incomplete jigsaw. With resignation and acceptance, they had come to terms with her absence, but there was still a spare seat at the table where she would have sat. Or, not, because Rossi would have seated her beside Emily instead of Reid, because if JJ hadn't left, they would still be together. Emily shook her head at the thought, and was grateful when the conversation changed topics.
Christmas was never Emily's favourite time of year. The Ambassador never told her the Santa lie, she never put out milk and cookies, never went to bed on Christmas Eve with ideas of jingle bells and reindeer in her little head. Of course, she always woke up to everything she had asked for, and couldn't complain about that. But Christmas morning alone, unwrapping gifts by herself in her bedroom, because her mother and father had prior engagements, even on Christmas day, was the memory that emerged in Emily's head whenever she tried to remember Christmas as child. That was why, when she woke up that morning, it didn't bother her that Christmas was going to be a quite, lonely affair. However, as she sat at Rossi's table, surrounded by some of her favourite people in the world, people she'd come to call family, Emily was grateful. She couldn't help the soft smile that graced her features as she listened to Rossi tell stories. In fact, she barely noticed it. But, across the table, Hotch noticed, and he found himself smiling with her.
They retired to the lounge, where Rossi poured scotches for himself, Hotch and Emily. Penelope continued on the wine, and Reid graduated to a cappuccino and, when the clock hit ten, announced he was going to go home, and Penelope caught a cab with him. Emily could read in Reid's face that his capacity for socialising had worn down when she stood to hug them both. Emily and Hotch stayed longer, laughing and basking in the warmth of Rossi's fire, drinking his expensive scotch, each of them unwilling to go home to an empty flat. Rossi regaled them with stories of the early days of the BAU, of himself and Gideon working out of the basement of the FBI.
By the time Emily looked at the clock again, it was past midnight. She glanced at Rossi, and caught the polite but tired smile on his face.
"We should leave you to your evening," Emily spoke for herself and Hotch, who had gathered the situation when Emily stood up. He excused himself to call a cab for them both.
"Thank you for tonight, Rossi," Emily said, sincerely. She accepted his hug, and leaned her cheek in for him to kiss. "Really. I would have spent the day wallowing, and denying to myself that that's what I was doing. So...thanks."
"Nessun problema, tesoro." He muttered into her hair, as he hugged her warm and tight. Emily always felt small when Rossi hugged her; warm and safe, and childlike. She knew this party had been for her benefit, and she loved him all the more for it.
In the cab with Hotch, Emily found herself practically melting into the seat. The scotch and food had settled her, made her sleepy. For the first time in weeks, she was content. She let her eyes close on the cab ride, enjoying the motion of the car and feeling safe with Hotch beside her. When she opened her eyes again, it was to her head lolling on his shoulder where she had fallen asleep, and his soft voice in her ear.
"Em, we're at your place, come on." He said, trying to rouse her. She blinked up at him, confused, and he laughed, low in his chest. "Come on," He repeated, opening his own door and shifting over, offering her his hand to climb out of the car. She leaned heavily against him, and his arm wrapped around her waist to keep her upright, as she slowly roused from her short cat nap.
It wasn't his intention, and it wasn't hers, either, but something about that hand on her waist changed things between them. By the time they got upstairs to her apartment, Emily was wide awake, and very aware of him beside her. She didn't move away from his hand, and he didn't remove it, either, even though part of him knew that he should. Instead, when they reached her doorway, Emily turned in his grip, and his hand slipped beneath her coat, landing on her hip. Emily leaned back against the door, and Hotch followed, closing the gap between them. She was breathing hard, already.
Hotch's lips against hers were foreign, unusual, and Emily let herself melt into them, tugging on the collar of his jacket to pull him closer. He pulled away first, resting his forehead against hers. His eyes were closed, and Emily's were glassy as she looked up at him.
"Emily," Hotch's voice was low, and Emily felt it between her legs. "We've both had a lot to drink. We shouldn't do this."
"No," She shook her head, "You're right. We shouldn't."
Emily turned around to open the door, her back brushing against Hotch's chest. He didn't step away, and once the door was open in front of her, Emily didn't step inside. Instead, she leaned back against him, leaning her head to the side. Hotch's hand came up to brush her hair off of her neck, and his lips decended. "Tell me to leave, Emily."
She should. She knew she should. For a million reasons, she should stop this in it's tracks. They were putting everything at risk right now, and she should stop it. But it felt so good to be touched, to be wanted. It had been so long since she had felt wanted. Emily couldn't bring herself to do it.
"Stay."
new year's eve
in the long run, the most unpleasant truth is a safer companion
than the most pleasant falsehood
She avoided Hotch for the rest of the week; luckily there were no cases for them to attend to, so the team spend the days between Christmas and New Year at home. As if those days weren't already abnormal enough, Emily was floating around in a haze of disbelief, embarrassment and guilt. The guilt was complicated, in that Emily didn't even know if she should be feeling it. On the one hand, she and JJ were broken up; it was nothing to do with JJ who she slept with anymore. On the other hand, if JJ had slept with someone, Emily knew she would have some feelings about it. Particularly if the person JJ had slept with was not only a mutual friend, but their boss.
When she woke up, Hotch was already gone, and for that she was thankful. She did have a text on her phone,
I'm sorry about last night. I had to leave early, Jack's coming home today. I'll call.
That was all she had heard from him. He hadn't called, and she hadn't called him, either. She couldn't even bring herself to text him back, and knew it wasn't fair. She was projecting her own guilt and emotions onto him. Sunday passed, and he didn't show up for their run. Emily didn't question it. She should, should text to make sure things between them wouldn't be awkward, but she couldn't bring herself to do it.
So, when someone knocked on her door on New Years Eve, she expected it to be Hotch. She set her book down on the coffee table, sighing to herself, before forcing herself onto her feet. For a week now, she'd been wearing sweatshirts and tank tops; she hadn't even left the house for food. Takeout boxes littered her kitchen, a telltale sign of how she had been living. She glanced at herself in the mirror on her way to the front door, with her hair thrown up into a messy ponytail and a curry stain on her white tank top. Great.
She didn't even check the peephole before she swung the door open, knowing if she saw his face, she'd hesitate, not knowing what to say to him. It wasn't Hotch behind the door.
"Jayje-" She breathed, eyes wide.
She was more tanned than she had been when she left two months ago, her honey hair lightened further by the sun, so that there were highlights of gold and almost-white that ran through it. There was a spattering of dark freckles across her nose. She carried her jacket, leaving her arms exposed by the t-shirt she wore, and Emily could see new ropes of muscle there that hadn't been there before, which moved beneath tanned skin as JJ shifted. She wore an expression of sheepishness, looking up at Emily through pale eyelashes. In front of her, she held a rucksack.
"Hey," She said, in a soft, quiet voice that was the same as it had always been. She attempted a smile, but it faltered. "I booked tickets to come home for New Year before we..." Her voice trailed off, as though she didn't quite know how to acknowledge their break up. "I got in a cab and just gave in your address. I didn't wanna be anywhere else." She looked scared, as though she fully expected Emily to turn her away. Emily's pause was too long and JJ read into it. "I can go." She said, stepping away from the front door, "I can stay with Penelope."
"I slept with somebody." The words were out before Emily had a chance to consider whether it was a good idea to say them. She never had been able to keep things from JJ.
Blue eyes widened in front of her, glassy with shock, then narrowed, confused and accusing. She opened her mouth as though to speak, but her rose lips closed again without any words flowing out of them. Her eyes fell, landing on the wall beside Emily's front door, and Emily could practically see the thoughts whizzing around in JJ's head. Then she pushed forwards, stepping past Emily into the flat without so much as an invitation, and stood in the middle of the hallway in silence. Emily waited, waited for the explosion she expected, or for the tears and accusations. Neither came. Instead, JJ's eyes softened, fixing on Emily's, and the brunette felt a twist in her stomach at the familiarity of that expression.
Emily reached for her without really thinking about it, without actively deciding to do it. She crushed JJ to her chest. There was a long pause where Emily squeezed her eyes closed and just hoped. Then she heard the clatter as JJ's rucksack fell to the floor and strong arms wrapped around her, holding her just as tightly. There were many things that needed to be said, and many of them weren't very nice, but they would wait until the morning. For now, it was so nice to just hold on.
