Disclaimer: I own nothing and don't profit from any of it, its just for fun

The Protector Chapter 1

Another day another string of tortured call-girls found dead in hotel rooms, their cases hardly considered let alone connected until someone of more relative virtue was targeted. Emily rolls her eyes at her own cynicism and flips through the file in front of her. For now the case is a consult, she'll write up a preliminary profile to inform the lead detective's suspect pool and hope it was enough to set the DC police on the right track without needing the whole team's involvement.

Another day another white male between the ages of 35-45 with mommy issues she thinks. It's Friday, so perhaps it's alright to lean into the cynicism after all. She's almost finished, and she wonders if she can lure one of her coworkers out for a drink before some emergency somewhere sends them chasing down yet another man who'd rather brutally slaughter women than go to therapy. Physically fit, likely owns a large vehicle for transporting bodies, sociable enough to lure his victims but a history of interpersonal violence including torture. Possible law enforcement or army experience. He very likely knew his latest victim. The increased rage is evident across her lifeless face, neck, and chest.

Emily listens to the quiet swoosh of her preliminary report flying through cyber space to the DC metro police and glances at the clock. If she stays quiet, no one will notice she's finished and try to give her anything else to do until the clock ticks down another half hour and she can leave. She pulls in a long breath and observes the controlled chaos of the BAU bullpen. Just two years ago she would have laughed in the face of anyone who told her she'd ever come back to The States, much less The District. Her mind slides back to the sleepy little house on a cul-de-sac where her secret is kept safe not far from here, then settles on the odd bubble of joy in her chest when she receives mail with her own name on it. Emily is still unsure of her place in this rag tag team of profilers, but for the first time in a long while she's beginning to remember her place in her own life. Lauren Reynolds is dead. Emily Prentiss is finally starting to believe that she's really still alive.

Her eyes catch the movement of a certain blonde press liaison moving toward the coffee counter. The more she remembers about who she really is, the more she hopes her place in this team will continue to include the soft flirtations and intense gazes of Jennifer Jareau. The younger woman has been a welcoming beacon of warmth throughout the last year and Emily can't ignore the way that warmth has taken up residence in her chest. She's about to roll her eyes at herself again when the phone on her desk rings out.

"Agent Prentiss" she answers professionally without looking at the caller display. Her eyes track JJ back through the bullpen toward her office with a full cup of coffee before the voice of her caller comes through.

"Emily!" Emily knits her eyebrows together as her mind scrambles to identify her complicated reaction to the voice greeting her. "Imagine my surprise seeing your name pop up in the investigation"

"Sam?" She gasps, mind racing to build a picture of the man she hasn't thought about in what feels like a lifetime. Technically two life times. Sam Clarke, devastatingly handsome career politician. A man who, at one point during her years at Yale, had been thrust unceremoniously in her direction by her mother. A political match made in heaven.

"Got it in one" the man says with a smile she can hear through the phone. Emily tolerates a minute of polite back and forth, tensely asking after his family and confirming her mother is well, before Sam's voice drops to indicate he's called with motives more serious than catching up. "Clarissa Mowett was on my campaign staff, I was so grateful to see your name on the psychological profile"

"I just sent that profile 20 minutes ago" Emily exclaims, her mind conjuring the twisted remains of Clarissa tortured and dumped in a motel on the outskirts of the capital just like 3 other women before her.

"I'm following the investigation, I want to make sure they get the guy who did it" Sam tells her gravely. Emily clears her throat thoughtfully, compiling what she knows of the case, the latest victim, and charming confident Sam Clarke.

"If you read all the way to the end of my report you'll find that's something the killer would do" Emily deadpans. Something nostalgic moves in her gut when Sam chuckles darkly. Her mind twirls with things she'd like to say, but she knows the best thing for her and Sam and everyone else is to end the call as soon as possible. "I'm afraid I can't give you anything else, Sam. I'm not on the case it was just a consultation"

"Of course" Sam sighs "I know that"

"But I'm really sorry for your loss" Emily says. Her voice is soft and comforting, the one she uses with victims and their families but it is genuine none the less. When Sam doesn't respond she fills in the silence by asking "where you close?"

"Yeah" his confident voice falters "you could say that" Emily nods despite the fact that he can't see her and says nothing. She is well aware of Sam's proclivity for young ambitious women. Something like foreboding tickles the back of her neck and she isn't sure what to make of it, or what to make of this strange phone call.

"Well I hope they get him" she says finally. She listens to Sam take a breath as though he's about to say more but instead the man says goodnight and disconnects the call. Emily tries to shake off the encounter and glances at the clock. At least the call had brought her close enough to end of day that she can start packing her things.

Ten minutes later she finds herself leaning as casually as she can into JJ's office with what she hopes is a relaxed and confident smile. It buys her a returning smirk and a flash of something playful in the jewel blue eyes of her coworker that helps push Sam's smooth voice and all the memories attached to it out of her mind.

"Let me guess" the blonde smirks "you're bored of pretending to work to the end of the day and you're hoping I'll play hooky with you"

"It's 5pm on a Friday" Emily laughs "I know this is the BAU but I'd hardly call that playing hooky" the liaison raises an eyebrow at the overflowing stacks of case files littered across her desk.

"Some of us still have work to do" JJ teases. Emily surveys the desk and sighs. It really doesn't ever end.

"What if I promise to feed you and come in on Saturday to help you get caught up?" Emily argues. She can see the upward curl of JJ's lips that indicates she's been convinced, but the blonde still draws the moment out as she slowly shuffles a few things around.

"Can I pick dinner?" JJ bargains. Emily nods and smiles.

"And dessert" the older agent responds huskily. There is nothing Emily enjoys more on this earth than the soft pink blush that creeps across JJ's chest when they flirt like this. The moment passes with a heated stare and before long they're leaving together. Neither bothering to extend the invitation to the rest of the team.

JJ won't tell Emily where they're going, despite the fact that Emily is driving. She simply tells the other woman where to turn and when to change lanes. Emily raises her eyebrow when they pull into the dark parking lot of an old strip mall. On the far end beside an insurance broker's dark office, a near-empty restaurant with a buzzing neon "open" sign is the only hint of civilization.

"You know I don't like to flex about my social status, but I have both the money and the connections to take you literally anywhere you want for dinner" Emily says incredulously. JJ laughs. "Seriously! If it's getting a table you're worried about…"

"You said I could pick" JJ insists "this is my pick"

"Okay" Emily concedes before pushing herself out of the drivers seat and circling the car to meet JJ on the passenger side. The blonde pulls a face as she stands to find Emily directly in front of her.

"Were you trying to open my door for me?" She asks in a teasing tone and Emily feels hot blush moving across her cheeks.

The restaurant is barely that, just an open kitchen and a few small booths. A television blasts in one corner, the football game displayed captures the rapt attention of everyone in the place. Emily notes that most of those watching seemed to be employees rather than other diners. The smell of a deep fryer quickly overwhelms the pair as JJ leads Emily confidently up to the counter. The small crowd, and JJ, give a ruckus cheer that makes Emily jump and once the celebration dies down an older man in a grease stained apron turns and smiles at JJ.

"Figured I'd see you here tonight Penn State" he greets the blonde agent from behind his greying moustache. "Game day usual?" He asks.

"Two please" JJ smiles gesturing toward Emily behind her. The man eyes the newcomer but says nothing before moving toward the kitchen to start their meal.

"What's the game day usual?" Emily asks. She has many questions, but this seems the most pertinent.

"A delicacy" JJ assures her "trust me"

"I absolutely do" Emily agrees, eyes sparking. They settle into a creaking booth and Emily spends a few minutes watching JJ turn her face back up to the television behind Emily's head. The upward tilt of her head accentuates the blonde's jaw line and the elegant line of her neck. Emily is just taking note of the other patrons and sports fans when two frosty bottles of beer appear in front of them. JJ clinks her bottle to Emily's with a smile.

"Be warned you maybe shouldn't have trusted me" JJ admits after a long sip of beer. "I may have tricked you into a little Jareau tradition"

"Oh?" Emily asks, her lips forming a perfect circle of apprehension and her eyebrows raising over her wide dark eyes. JJ's smile grows as she nods at her friend.

"I come here sometimes, when my alma mater is playing, because it reminds me of home" she says, staring intently into Emily's eyes as if to gage what the worldly profiler thinks of such a place. Emily keeps here eyes soft and open, the truth is she's honoured to be included. She adds the simple establishment, the blaring football game, and the easy familiarity between the agent and the cook to the mental picture she has of JJ. All American girl next door, brilliant and tough as nails, ambitious, personable, beautiful. While she is still taking it all in the man from the counter saunters over and slides two plates onto the table. JJs eyes brighten. "Pennsylvania scrapple!" She crows.

"Scrapple?" Emily repeats. In front of her lay a simple toasted white bread sandwich. No effort has been put into plating or presentation but the media liaison doesn't seem to care, just takes a hardy bite of her own meal and smiles expectantly at Emily who grins and mirrors her. It's as thoroughly simple as the restaurant itself: a fried slice of meat and grain loaf with American cheddar and grainy mustard on simple white bread, a crisp layer of iceberg lettuce for texture. The herbs and spices in the dense meat loaf explode across Emily's pallet and pair well with the sharp mustard. "It's like, a pate or something" Emily comments, smiling and taking another bite.

"Sure" JJ laughs "a pate" she mimics with a regal tone in her voice. "It's mashed and molded pork grizzle and corn" she deadpans. "But it takes me back to big family brunches and having run of the farm with my cousins and sharing secrets over midnight snacks with my sister" the blonde's voice is wistful and Emily watches her reminisce with rapt attention. Emily wants to ask for more, to get to know little JJ and ask what having a sibling is like. Emily imagines it's like having a partner, a conspirator, an accomplice, a built in friend for life. Emily thinks briefly about another blonde haired blue eyed piece of her heart, and wonders if she's sentenced him to a life like hers. Isolated and surrounded only by adults who can't possibly understand. She jumps again as JJ and the others in the place start yelling at the television again. This time the crowd is angry at what they all insist is a bad call. Emily cranes her neck to look at the screen for a moment but the images don't help her sort out what is happening.

"I'm afraid I know as much about football as I do about scrapple sandwiches" Emily admits when JJ's eyes meet hers again.

"Oh really?" JJ asks and Emily nods shyly. "What sport does Emily Prentiss watch for entertainment then?"

"I don't" she shrugs "I row, but I haven't competitively since university and that's not exactly covered in weekly sports network highlights" Emily feels a little silly sharing this but JJ leans in and shows interest while Emily talks about the meditative qualities of rowing that got her through her dissertation at Yale. JJ then regales Emily with tales of team adversity and riotous victories on the Penn-State then Georgetown soccer fields. When they're finished eating it's half time and Emily watches JJ take in the stats flying across the screen and argue excitedly with another sports fan about predictions for the second half. JJ sees Emily's eyes glaze over and laughs.

"Ok Well scoot over here, princess, and let me get you up to speed in that very patronizing manner that all women love to have sports explained to them" JJ slides to her right in the booth and motions to the spot beside her. Emily grins and moves to sit beside JJ so she can better see the game. Fresh beers and a bowl of peanuts turn up in front of them as JJ dives in: "The goal of American football is to…."

By the end of the evening Emily's cheeks burn from smiling and her voice is hoarse from cheering. More interestingly, her skin tingles as they arrive back at the car and she realizes that JJ hasn't stopped touching her since they'd settled into the booth together. Shoulders had bumped, thighs pressed close, arms rested around backs and hips, hugs and high fives flowed as JJ's team secured a decidedly messy last quarter victory. Now they stood at the passenger side door of Emily's car, JJ holding tightly to Emily's elbow and leaning against her for warmth. Obviously not in a hurry to let go.

"I will admit I was pretty skeptical at first but this was honestly the most fun I've had in…" Emily allows her sentence to trail off and shrugs as she turns her body toward the tipsy blonde on her arm. "Thank you for sharing this with me" she says warmly. Her eyes cast down bashfully.

"Thanks for trusting me" JJ responds in a soft tone and presses closer. When Emily looks up her breath catches at how close the blonde has drifted, and how obviously she is eyeing Emily's lips. Against her better judgement Emily closes the distance, tentatively brushing JJ's bottom lip between her own in a soft but passionate kiss. The two linger, breath mingling and lips connecting while Emily grasps one of JJ's belt loops and gently pulls the woman closer. They make no move to touch each other further and yet it's the most erotic thing Emily has ever experienced. She opens her eyes to seek out JJ's, clearing her throat to say something - anything. When a shrill ring erupts from the media liaison's jacket. Whatever breathy missive was about to fall from Emily's lips fades and instead she laughs ironically.

"Work?" She asks. JJ cringes and nods, fishing the offending phone out of her pocket.

"Just hold that thought would you?" JJ asks, delicately tracing Emily's lips with the fingers of her free hand before finally answering the call. Emily nods, relieved the other woman isn't spooked by the intrusion of their work life into this intimate moment.

Twenty minutes later Emily is still a little dazed from the second kiss JJ had laid on her before regretfully informing her that they had to head back into the office. She sneaks a look at Derek then Rossi and gets the feeling she's not the only one who's been pulled away from a hot date, where as Hotch looks as though he's not even left yet. Reid is rumpled as though he's just woken up despite the fact it was only 9pm. When Garcia hurries in and dumps a few copies of the case files on the table Emily recognizes it right away.