Well, it's been a week, high time to update again (that's not an English expression, is it?)
I thank you all SO MUCH for all the reviews. You have no idea how much it boosted my confidence. I can ask every one of you to review again, but then I'm going to look stupid, so I'm not forcing you. I'd like it very much, though (don't mind my confusing talk. I'm hungry)
So this is chapter twenty-one already, and it is putting me in quite an awkward position. See, I like to have some more chapters ahead of me. But now, I am still writing on twenty-two - and with school going on, work, personal things and a muse that likes to play hide-and-seek, I'm afraid updates won't be very regularly. I'll try, though. I really well, 'cause I like this story a lot, and just recently (after posting chapter twenty, actually), I started writing again. Maybe it's not good, but it's better than nothing, right?
Okay, rambling. Just enjoy this chapter!
She had walked out again. During her time with Kathleen, she had stayed calm and supportive: now, however, it became too much for her.
The memories were overwhelming. She remembered, or rather saw, felt, the tension every night. Waiting for him. He always came, almost every night. She had learnt a long time ago not to fight: it only made matters worse. During the day, she could fight. She could hide herself behind a shield. But at night, she was his. Powerless in his hands.
He was standing over her, looking down at her. She didn't pretend to be asleep. She knew it didn't help. She just waited, tried to feel nothing, to keep herself impassive as he lay next to her in bed, as his hands wandered over her body. She tried to remember that this wasn't her, that he was doing this just to her exterior.
She knew it wasn't true.
The pain… She felt it again, the pain between her legs after he was finished, her whole body sore and so cold, like she'd never be warm again. His fault. His pain. The pain that she had felt only with him – on the streets, later on, it was different. She pretended to be fine without it, she cooperated. She had had to, she had needed the money.
The first time she had pushed it away in a box, somewhere in her mind she rarely went. It had felt so good she had decided to keep it there, get rid of the pain, guilt and everything she connected to that part of her life.
She should've known it wouldn't work.
--
JJ knew she should probably wait until she was in the safety of her own apartment, or even in the hotel room with Emily and Garcia, but her mind told her differently. Her mind flooded her with images, pouring out like a dam had broken. Maybe it had. Kathleen had broken it.
She slid down onto the ground, her back leaning against the wall. Hiding her head in her hands, she hoped no one would try and come, that no agent would decide to do something about this unknown woman.
Slowly, anger took over from desperation. Why? Why her? Why had he done all this, and why did he still affect her? He had never answered those questions, even though she had asked them. It had made her believe she was useless, ugly, dirty: she had made up the answers because he hadn't given her one.
She wanted to be rid of the pain, the scars, the hatred. She wanted to be a normal person, someone who could love a man and not be afraid of everything that came with it.
She looked up when she recognized Hotch's footsteps.
She should've known he'd wanted to talk to her after the talk with Kathleen. Her secret was out, everyone knew – save Garcia, perhaps. She watched wearily as Hotch walked towards her, seeing her on the floor and recognizing it as a sign of defeat.
Morgan followed him. This surprised her – but she could've expected it.
Hotch slid down next to her, something else that surprised her. She guessed this would be the parental talk. She could only hope it went better than the last time she'd talked about it to a parent.
"You did well, inside," Hotch finally broke the silence. His voice was quiet, calm – a soothing tone in it JJ rarely heard. Morgan was at a distance, watching, waiting for something.
"Thanks," she said, staring at the bushes across her. "Guess it helps to have a similar victim." It didn't matter anymore, she decided: she didn't have to dodge questions any longer, hold her tongue all the time. Somehow, it felt like a good prospect.
"It does," Hotch agreed. He was at a loss for words, something that didn't often happen. He had no idea of JJ's mood, apart from the anger – he didn't know what words to say. He went with his instinct.
"JJ, I apologize."
"What?" She still didn't look at him, but she sounded surprised, maybe a little hurt.
"I should've seen the signs. I'm a profiler, I should see these things, especially with one of our own. I'm sorry."
Suddenly, something in snapped in JJ. Maybe it was him admitting his defeat, the way he treated her as if she was broken beyond repair… but suddenly, she just couldn't keep it in.
"Damn right you should've noticed!" she yelled, her voice rising dramatically. "You should've seen! Helped me! Not leave me to drown in my own misery!" She stood up, pacing up and down quickly. He stood up, too, getting an idea of what she needed. "You're right, I should have helped. But why didn't you say anything?"
JJ stared at him. Was he really that oblivious?
"I hate him," she said quietly. Then her voice became louder. "I hate him! I hate him!" She punched Hotch in his chest, surprisingly hard for such a delicate woman. He stayed still, voluntarily being her punching bag. "You… he… I HATE him! It's his fault! He made me… he… I wish he was dead!"
Her punches weakened, her voice growing hoarse with tears. She pushed him away, turning around to a non-existent audience, her movements wild, lost. Hurt.
Hotch approached her, throwing his arms around her from the back. Holding her as she moved violently, trying to get away, to run to a safe place where no one would judge her.
He wouldn't let her. He held her as she gradually quieted down, until she was just sobbing heavily into his arms. He held her firmly, wishing there was something he could do to chase away the demons that haunted her. To make him pay for what he had done to his colleague, his friend – to make him pay for what he still did to her.
Morgan had approached them, but he stood there rather helplessly. He wanted to hug, to comfort her, but he knew that two men around her were probably too much. So he stood there, waiting for any sign that told him he could do something.
Hotch continued holding her even as she had stopped fighting, one hand on her back, one hand on her hair, holding her head that was pressed against his chest. It was a rather awkward position for a team leader and his subordinate, but now, he reminded himself, they weren't that. She was someone who needed comfort and he was giving it to her, letting her know people cared for her, people were willing to go through this with her. She wasn't alone, and she needed to finally realize that.
--
Eventually JJ pushed herself away from him, embarrassed. Her eyes were read and traces of tears were on her cheeks.
"I'm sorry," she mumbled, looking at the ground. Morgan finally came closer to them, and he lifted JJ's chin. "Girl, you've got nothing to be sorry for," he gently told her. "Nothing, you understand?"
JJ nodded her head. It wasn't much, but it was a reaction and it was enough for him at the moment. "Come on, we've got to get inside," he said, and together they walked back into the police station.
--
As soon as they entered the room, Emily recognized what had happened. She didn't think about what to do – her maternal instinct simply took over and she rushed to JJ, engulfing her in a big hug that surprised everyone, including herself.
Garcia watched as well, slightly amused. Usually she was the one who was giving out the hugs.
However, the larger part of her was worried. The scene seemed to confirm her exact thoughts.
Morgan had been right. Her girl had had a bad past, full of pain and abuse. It was the last thing she'd expected from sweet, funny JJ, her best friend. She didn't understand why that same JJ had thought she couldn't tell her. Did she really think she, that the team they would turn her down? Turn their back on her for something she had no fault in? It was ridiculous: yet, Garcia reminded herself, they had encountered stranger things.
When Emily had let go of JJ, she looked around, embarrassed at being the centre of attention. She didn't know what to say: what did you say during moments like these?
Her problem was solved when John walked in and started talking, apparently oblivious to the atmosphere in the room.
"We got a lead," he said to them all, his face grim but satisfied as well. "Seems he wasn't so careful this time – they found some sperm on her shirt. It's in an unusual place: that's why they didn't pick it up earlier."
"Have you identified him?" Hotch asked him, suddenly all business-like again.
"He's not in our database," John replied, and his face fell. "But at least we've got something now."
Hotch nodded. Then he turned back to his team. "JJ, I want you to stay with Garcia for the moment, go further into the victim's history. There's got to be some connection." Garcia nodded firmly, glad to get some time with her friend. They needed to talk, she needed to know more details – even if JJ wasn't willing to provide them. She'd just be there for her.
"Morgan and Prentiss, you go talk with some of the prostitutes on the streets, see if they know someone who looks like the man Kathleen drew. Reid and I will work from here."
Everyone left for their respective job. JJ followed Garcia to her room, aware of the tension that was between her and her friend. She could've known it was coming – she'd feel the same if it was her.
As soon as Garcia had started the deeper background search, she turned around to JJ, who saw that it wasn't anger in her eyes, but compassion and sympathy.
"Yes, I'm sorry I didn't tell you," she started before Garcia could ask anything. "And yes, I know I should and could have told you before."
Garcia was taken aback, slightly amazed that she was so predictable but glad JJ had found some of her humour back. She grew serious again when she remembered what it exactly was about.
"Can I say something and you promise you won't interrupt me?" she asked JJ, who nodded apprehensively.
"I think you're incredibly brave," she started, continuing when she saw JJ's surprised look. "And I'm not just saying that 'cause I'm supposed to. You know, facing what you did –I don't know half of it but I can't even imagine how horrible it must've been–, living with it for years and carrying this all by yourself. I'm not saying it's good, but it's definitely brave."
When she had ended her little monologue, JJ was staring at her. "I couldn't tell," she finally said, surprised to find that the words came to her rather easily. "He threatened to do things, I couldn't let him do that."
"What'd he threaten you with?" Garcia inquired.
"Not me, my sister… He said that if I ever told anyone he'd do the same to her. I never told anyone, it just stuck with me." She looked at Garcia with pleading eyes. "You've no idea how hard it's been, I've wanted to talk so often, with you, with Emily, with anyone… But I couldn't, I just couldn't, it hurt too much…" It felt good finally voicing what had been going through her mind for weeks now.
Garcia moved forward and grabbed JJ's hand, but she wasn't done talking yet.
"Everyone always says I am strong, but I'm not. You know what happened when I left him?"
"You left him?" Garcia asked, shocked. Apparently she didn't know everything.
"I ran away, and I left her there for him, unprotected, vulnerable…" She didn't cry, but her voice was trembling. "It's my fault another life is destroyed."
"It's not," Garcia told her firmly. "He did this, not you. You couldn't have lived like that forever, you'd have died. You did the right thing."
JJ listened to her words, recognizing them from what other people had said to her. Her logic told her they were right, but her heart didn't want to listen to it: she still felt responsible. She'd always feel responsible, no matter how many people said so otherwise, no matter how often it was proven to her that it wasn't her fault.
"I have to go and write for the press conference," she said quickly, feeling uncomfortable with opening up so much.
Garcia grinned. "I don't think you have to, honey. Hotch and Derek sure looked busy."
"They're writing my speech?" JJ asked, looking at her.
"Uhu," Garcia confirmed. "Guess they figured you need some girly time."
"I don't," JJ said shortly. "No offence, Pen, but I'm not really in the mood for gossiping."
"Who's talking about gossiping?" Garcia asked in mock offence. Then she smiled. "Good idea, though. You need to get out. Maybe we can go out tonight, just the girls?"
JJ looked at her, and Garcia was shocked to see tears forming in her eyes. She knew what her friend was thinking about, and added: "Not all men are evil. Besides, you don't have to do anything if you don't want to."
"I know," JJ whispered, and Garcia simply squeezed her hand. "But I couldn't –can't– trust men. No one outside the team. When I'm at parties, or we go out or something, I see all these men and I wonder how many of them have been abused. How many will become abusers. How much pain they will cause…" her voice faltered.
Garcia's heart went out to her friend, looking so broken and sad. She wanted to make sure the man who did this to her disappeared into hell. Before she could say anything, however, the computer beeped. She registered it, but didn't look up, keeping her eyes on JJ's.
"Your search has ended," JJ informed her, trying to hide her mood.
"I know," Garcia said softly, before adding: "We'll protect you against them, against the bad ones." She saw JJ nod, and decided there had been enough sadness for today. "So, tell me, have you also had any good experience with someone of the male population?"
JJ cringed at the abrupt change of subject, but she was glad for it. She thought about it…
No one at Horizon had been bad to her, apart from David maybe, but he had been bad to everyone.
Auggie and Ezra had been kind to her, in the way teenagers were to each other. Their shared traits though, the reasons why they all were there, had added an extra dimension to the friendship, and she had seen them both at their worst.
And Scott… she sighed as she thought of him.
Garcia, not missing the sigh, smiled widely. "Okay, now I know it's good. Just wait a sec," she said, turning back to the computer. After all, there was still a case to solve, despite the personal drama.
"Three of the vics went to Glenmill high school," she read out loud. "And four others all went to Albertine High." She frowned. "You think he may be a teacher there or something?"
"It's possible," JJ replied, already standing up to find Hotch. "We found a connection," she said as soon as she located Hotch. "Three of the victims went to one school together, and four others went to another school together."
"Couldn't that just be a coincidence?" Reid asked, frowning.
"It could be, but they were also all in the same class," Garcia said from behind her.
"A teacher taking revenge?" Reid muttered, and Hotch nodded. "Do these two groups have something in common? Teacher, mentor?"
"I don't know," Garcia said, frustrated, and she ran back into the computer room. Everyone followed her.
"They shared a teacher, Daniel Adams," she told them as soon as they entered. "He went from Glenmill to Albertine after five years."
"Can you pull up his record?" Hotch asked her. Garcia smiled.
"Already done, honey," she told him. A record with a photo of a man with dirty blond hair appeared on the screen. "Daniel Adams, 39, married, clean record," Garcia summarized.
"Does he still teach?" Morgan inquired.
"No," Garcia shook her head. "He stopped teaching seven years ago. He works at the court house now."
Anyone who is still looking for a case-fic after this chapter, and is actually focused on that: my whole unsub story is utterly unbelievable and I just KNOW there are mistakes. I just can't be bothered to actually check it. I apologize, and ask you to look beyond it...
I realize the scene with Hotch and JJ is similar to that in Higher Ground, and it's also what I had in mind. Hope that didn't make me a copycat or something.