My hands lingered on the hem of my collar.
We'd been called in late over JJ's disappearance, a frantic call from Penelope at five this morning.
James was gone on another trip. Not like his absence was missed, we fought more than we spoke these days.
When I left, I almost didn't lock the door. There's not much here worth saving, worth protecting in the house he left behind.
The ride over is long, too long. A couple of drivers were cursed out in several different languages and the back rim of the car shuddered under the pure speed.
In the crypt-like silence of the bureau, Garcia had coffee waiting.
"You're a godsend, you know that?"
"I know. Although I wish there was more we could do for JJ. I'm worried about her."
"Me too." The words come out jumbled, for a linguist I'd always been lost for words.
When I was young, mom used to say the cat had my tongue.
But my brothers just took up too much space, too much air, too many words. What was there left for me to say?
I turned to books, to learn how to speak, how to live. How to fight with things other than my voice.
Written words were my power. Or as Garcia liked to say, my superpower.
"How can I help?" Garcia's eyes twitch, she's surprised I'm offering.
But Garcia had become like family. The team had become like family, it was something I hated to admit. Emotions had never been my forte. That's how James and I worked, space and quiet and under no conditions, emotions.
"Blake, the best thing you can do is get Hotch to call Emily. We need her, I need her."
My hands move around her waist, pulling her close.
She lets out a gasp. I don't think I've ever hugged anyone else on the team. Touched anyone else on the team. Touch goes hand in hand with emotion.
"I'll do what I can, promise."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa baby girl you didn't invite me for this?" Morgan's face is curled into a smile. A bitter smile.
"I should be going," I manage to say.
As the door closes, I can still hear them dazed over my sudden show of affection.
I catch him in the hallway. Pacing on the marble floors.
"Hotch! Hotch!"
He turns his head, eyes looking for the source of the distraction.
"Blake, what can I do for you? I don't have much time you'll have to walk with me."
"Can you call Emily?" He stops in his tracks. Confronted by an abrupt tone and harsh words.
"I-, it's a good idea Blake, thank you. But…"
"Will you?" He's deciding, the wheels in his head spinning. I can see it from here,
"Yes, Blake, I will."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"Emily, how much longer do we have you for?" Hotch asks.
"Six hours I'm afraid." Her eyes are sad, watching JJ in the way profilers do.
JJ's hands are around Will's shoulders. Her mouth on his. His hands are lower, much lower. If Emily's eyes were lasers Will would be missing a few limbs and lower extremities.
"It was nice to have met you, Emily. They all talk about you, especially JJ."
"I'm not so sure about that Alex. But, thank you." Her voice is small, missing the usual bravado she puts on around the rest of them.
"You know Blackbird comes from Old English and usually symbolizes death."
"Huh?"
"Your tattoo." Her sleeve has slipped up to reveal a small inked bird on her forearm.
Her eyes watch mine. "What do you know? How do you know?"
"I'm a profiler and I'd like to think a damn good one at that."
"And the others?" Her cheeks have pinked against her dark hair
"Clueless. Promise. How long has it been going on?"
"Honestly? For as long as I can remember. But I don't want to talk about it here, not within earshot."
"Let me buy you a drink, we can move to the back."
We walk to a small table in the back, away from the throng of the others. No one has yet noticed we're gone.
She bums a cigarette. Fingers shaking on my lighter. I wait until after her first long drag before I begin to speak.
"You know Emily, we're more alike than you think."
Her eyes widen. Engulfed by the size of her anxious pupils and the nicotine in her grasp.
"JJ?"
"No, about hiding part of yourself. Being someone else because you're afraid."
She sighs. Fingers moving thick dark hair behind her ears. "I wish it wasn't like this. Any of it, London, I thought it would be good for me."
"But?"
"I can't seem to get over her. Then there was Mark, he was more of a distraction than anything else. I don't know why I'm telling you any of this." Her feet tap on the bar's sticky floor. She's distracted by JJ's eyes darting in her direction.
"I've been told I'm a good listener. I used to hate it when I taught. James hated it. All those people that confided in me."
"You mean all those people other than him?" She takes a swig of her beer.
"Yeah, and this is why I don't talk much." She's drinking Heinekin, something Erin used to affectionately call piss-water.
"Something you want to tell me, Alex?"
"Just thinking about old memories." Her eyebrows raise in question. My fingers twirl around my ring in misguided comfort.
"I definitely didn't peg you as a piss-water drinker." JJ's nearing, but Emily hasn't noticed.
"I'll have you know it's a very good beer. You're drinking a Cosmo with ice, Alex. You're really not one to talk."
"And I'll have you know I like fruity things."
"What are you ladies doing over here?" JJ sidles next to me. Her rose perfume washes over the small booth. Emily's gaze drops to the floor.
"Just talking," Emily says.
"About?"
"Stuff."
"Well, Will and I are going to head out. I suppose I won't interrupt your date. She winks affectionately. " It was good to see you Em. Really."
She leans over the table to kiss her cheek. "Call me when you're back in London."
Emily lets out a deep breath, hands rubbing circles on her arm. I hate seeing her like this. I don't normally offer, well, I never offer. But, she needs some sleep.
"Do you need a place to crash? Before the plane ride?"
"Thank you. I'd really appreciate it, Alex."
We tell the team we're going to head out. Not before they exchange looks. There'd be hell to pay on Monday. Garcia's eyes go as wide as saucers. She usually texts me over the weekend, always checking in. But now, she'd be extra curious. I could just imagine the messages I'd receive before the night was over.
Emily's gone quiet within the confines of the car. I have to reach to get my house keys out of the glove box, this close I can smell the coconut oil and sea salt of her long hair on my arm.
"It's not too far back home."
"Home is such a funny word. I've had so many. I'm not sure London is home yet."
"You're talking to a linguist about words. It's really a losing battle."
She chokes out a laugh and a faint smile.
"You've got a beautiful smile, you know." My fingers brush past hers and she recoils at the touch.
"Thank you." A blush is beginning to spread over her nose.
I clear my throat and look back to the road home.