AUTHOR'S NOTES: Because I love to change formats, once again I'm shaking things up. For this and the next several, the chapters will be told from two points of view- the two characters involved in the scenes. In this case, JJ and Hotch. The first two parts will be one POV and then the other, the third part will be a combining. I hope it reads well and works out.

I'm attempting to try to dig into the psychology of the characters now. Sometimes it's not about the actual events, but what those situations make you see in yourself. Those demons can be worse than the physical scars.

As always, feedback rocks. Thank you muchly.

She drove like someone who had grown up in a small town.

Which was, of course, why she wasn't allowed to drive all that often.

She took corners too hard, like she was trying to see If the SUV could manage on two wheels instead of four. And while she wasn't prone to fits of profanity laced road rage, she drove like she thought she was riding in a large truck.

One lifted ten feet off the road.

At least.

Only Reid could stand to drive with her under normal circumstances. Morgan typically didn't mind, but that was only because he loved to harass her about it.

He, on the other hand, couldn't stand it.

But, Aaron Hotch mused, she'd needed it.

She'd needed to have control for a few minutes.

Even if it made his stomach roll like a bowling ball.

Ironic really. He'd seen bodies torn to pieces, the carnage almost unimaginable and he'd never flinched.

But driving with JJ, well, it made him wish he had a bottle of Pepto in his hip pocket.

"Have you ever been to his office?" he asked suddenly, aware of the fact that they'd driven almost the entire fifteen minute ride to the law office in silence.

For a moment she seemed shocked, even a bit surprised. But then she pushed it back, a hand flipping a strand of hair back behind her ear. "No," was all she said. Not cold. Just simple. As if she was hoping that her one word answer would end the conversation.

He was sure that she knew better.

Hotch nodded. "Okay." He glanced down at the file in his hands, the one that told Gibson Barrett's story.

Part of it at least.

He'd had a police record, a history of stalking exes.

It made Hotch wonder.

"JJ," he started, not terribly sure that he was going to actually ask her.

She turned her head towards him and again he saw exhaustion in her blue eyes. She was alert, but weary.

He figured maybe when this was over, maybe then he'd push her into taking a few days off.

Maybe even force her if he had to.

She'd resist, protest, claim that the unit needed her, that they couldn't manage without her.

And she'd be right.

But they'd have to try.

Because he wasn't about to lose her like he'd lost Elle.

Even now, even months later, it was hard to put into thoughts, much less words, what Elle Greenaway had meant to him.

Or more to the point, what losing her had meant to him.

She'd been one of his agents, one of his people. More than just his responsibility, someone he had genuinely cared about.

Someone he hadn't been able to save.

He thought about that day often. The one where she'd done what she'd done.

Killed Lee.

In cold blood.

She'd never admitted to it and he was glad for that, but they all had known the truth.

She'd snapped, crossed that line and then had no choice, but to walk away.

Even now, even months later, he wondered what would have happened had she admitted the truth of what she'd done.

Would he have been able to read her her rights? Snap the cuffs around her wrists? Would he have been able to walk her down a stone path to hell?

A voice in his head always whispered "no" even as his lips said "yes."

"Hotch?" JJ said suddenly, pulling his thoughts violently away from Elle.

"Hm?" he asked, then remembered his place. "Oh. I wanted to ask you about…you and Barrett?"

"I told you, I told that cop and I told Gideon, there was nothing between Barrett and I. Just a bad first date."

Her eyes said she was lying.

Years of staring back at witnesses, years of studying criminals, years of vetting political allies and enemies, they had all taught him how to read a lie from a mile away.

And Jennifer Jareau was lying.

He just wasn't sure he knew how to call her on it.

"Up here," JJ noted, pointing to a massive glass building about eight hundred yards up and to the right.

"McCovey, Blanton and Corgee," Hotch said, sighing.

"What?" she asked, a look of vague amusement crossing her face. "You're a lawyer, we're heading into your element."

He laughed. "No, if we were in my office, it would be my element. Here, well, it's like diving into a tank full of sharks."

"Any advice?" JJ quipped.

"Swim fast."

Jennifer Jareau had never considered herself to be a vain woman. Sure, she liked to look good. Sure, she got a kick out of watching heads spin when she walked into a room, all dressed to the nines.

But at the end of the day, when she stepped into her own home, she liked to slum it up in flannel pajamas bottoms and a wifebeater.

Now, however, walking with Hotch down the long marbled hallway towards the front desk of McCovery, Blanton and Corgee, she rather enjoyed hearing the sound of her high heels clicking against the floor.

Almost rhythmically.

Almost like normal.

Normal seemed so long ago.

Almost like a dream.

Back before the Georgia.

Back before Tobias, the dogs and what had happened to Reid.

Back before she'd met Gibson Barrett.

"Hi," she heard Hotch say as they approached the front desk. A young blonde woman wearing a headset was sitting there, looking cheerful but terribly bothered.

"Hi," the woman replied, wearing a smile that reminded JJ a little of Jack Nicholson. Too big and rather well, manipulative.

Like she was fully aware of the fact that she was the one who pulled the strings around this place.

It was a lot of power. A lot of responsibility. And potentially, if the wrong choices were made, a lot of guilt.

JJ knew the feeling all too well.

"Agent Hotchner and Agent Jareau, we're with the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit," Hotch said, flashing his badge. JJ quickly followed suit.

"FBI?" the blonde blinked, her expression unreadable.

"We need to see Gibson Barrett's office."

"Why?" a man's voice said from behind them. They both turned to see a tall man with dark hair. He was in his late fifties, but looked quite a bit younger. Then, seeing the confused looks that Hotch and JJ were throwing his way, he extended his hand. "Harry Corgee. I'm one of the senior partners here."

"Agents Hotchner and Jareau," Hotch said again.

"With the BAU, so I heard," Corgee nodded. Then he looked hard at JJ. "Hey, I know you. You're Gibson's girlfriend, right?"

JJ twitched.

It would have been almost funny if it wasn't so worrisome.

"No," she said quickly, her mind racing. The look on Hotch's face, well she didn't like it. It was the kind that suggested that an interrogation was soon to come.

It was the kind that told her that she'd soon have to admit the truth.

And it wasn't that it was so bad, just that it was so personal.

But that line, that simple beautiful line, it was breaking apart.

It was vanishing.

This case was about to make it disappear altogether.

Silently, angrily, she cursed Barrett.

And immediately felt bad for it.

He was already dead. No real reason to rub it in. So to speak anyway.

"No," she finally managed. "I'm not his girlfriend."

"Really?" Corgee frowned. "He's got a picture of you on his desk."

"Can we see it?" Hotch asked and again, JJ felt herself twitch.

She felt the line fade.

"I mean, his office," Hotch elaborated.

"Of course, but perhaps you'd like to wait for Gibson to come in. He's running a bit late, but he should be in shortly."

JJ glanced over at Hotch, noted the lack of expression on his face, schooled her own face to reflect the same.

"Sir, I'm sorry to tell you that Gibson Barrett was murdered last night," Hotch told him, his voice even and calm. JJ found herself thankful that he'd done the notification.

Normally it would have fallen to her.

But she wasn't sure what she would have said.

"Sir, I regret to inform you that the bastard who apparently thought that I was his girlfriend was butchered in the backseat of his car last night?"

Yeah, probably not a great way to go.

But thankfully, Hotch to the rescue.

"Oh, my God," Corgee said. "What…what happened?

"We're not sure yet," Hotch replied. "We're trying to get a feel for who Mr. Barrett was so that we can figure out why what happened last night happened."

"Of course, yes. Right this way," Corgee nodded as he led the JJ and Hotch down another marble hallway, towards a row of massively sized offices.

"Where was Mr. Barrett in the hierarchy around here?" Hotch asked.

"Working pretty hard on becoming a partner. He was very good with clients, especially female ones."

JJ snorted and then immediately winced when she caught the look Hotch tossed back at her.

She scolded herself, she knew better.

She was usually more controlled.

But this case, not only were the lines blurring, so was her self-control.

And suddenly her head started pounding again.

Like a sledgehammer, just above the bridge of her nose, between her eyes.

"Any problems?" Hotch pushed on.

"None."

"Were you aware of his criminal record?"

"You mean the restraining order?"

"More the stalking part of it," Hotch said simply.

"Yes, we were aware. He explained it to us satisfaction, said that it was just a relationship that had gotten out of control. He'd been young and well young people tend to let their emotions get away from them."

Hotch nodded like he had accepted that answer.

At that moment, Corgee opened an office door and they stepped into an office decorated heavily with sports memorabilia.

Yankees pennants on the wall. A framed Knicks poster just above his desk. A mounted bat signed by Babe Ruth just below his law degrees.

"Here we are," Corgee said as he moved behind Barrett's desk. He picked up a framed picture and turned it around. Immediately, JJ flinched.

It was a photo of her from the Christmas part several months earlier. Slightly inebriated, grinning ear to ear. In the background, face turned away from the camera, was Reid, in mid box-step.

She'd loved the photo because of how dopey Reid looked in it.

She'd thought she'd lost the photo several weeks back.

Right after the first date with Barrett.

Apparently she hadn't lost it at all.

"JJ?" Hotch whispered. She looked up at him, unable to mask the confusion in her eyes.

And the anger.

She was pissed. And scared. And completely thrown off-balance.

But mostly, she was severely pissed off.

"I…I didn't give him that…" but then she stopped, trying desperately to grab at that line. The line that protected her personal line.

The line that was little more than a faint shadow now.

"Is everything okay, Agent Jareau?" Corgee asked, his brow furrowing.

She nodded, gulped once and then yanked it back inside, despite how her stomach was churning. "Yes. Do you mind giving Agent Hotchner and I moment to look around?"

"I trust you know not to look at confidential documents?"

"Of course," Hotch replied.

"Okay. Well, I need to tell the partners anyway so if you need me, I'll be three doors down, in Jack McCovey's office."

JJ nodded and forced a smile. Corgee replied with one of his own, looking troubled. Then he turned and exited.

"JJ?"

"We should check for a datebook or a calendar," she said quickly. "Maybe he met with the Unsub before the attack."

"Right," Hotch agreed, frowning slightly. He crossed over to the desk and yanked on one of the drawers, finding it locked.

"Try the inside of the monkey's head," JJ told him, pointing towards a decapitated stuffed monkey's head that was sitting on the edge of the desk. There were about thirty push pins coming out of it.

Hotch reached over and picked it up. He glanced inside and sure enough, saw the tiny gold keys. He extracted them slowly, careful not to stab himself with one of the pins. "How did you know?"

"I may not be a profiler," she said with a small smile. "But I know men. Something like that, well men always think it's a clever place to hide things. Take Morgan, he has a baseball on his desk that's been hollowed out. His desk keys are in there."

She didn't miss the smile of respect that Hotch threw her way. The "like it or not, you're halfway to being one of us" look.

Normally it would have made her beam.

But knowing that the discussion about her personal life was right around the corner, well, she wasn't really feeling the happy vibes.

She watched as he unlocked the desk and pulled open the drawers. He reached in and drew out several folders. Most of them were tagged with client names. "Take all of these names down, but don't look at the actual files.

JJ nodded, swiped a notebook of the desktop and began writing names down while Hotch continued going through the desk.

"Hey, JJ," he said suddenly. She looked up to see him holding a Polaroid. One that showed her sitting next to Barrett at a table full of empty beer bottles.

She sighed. "On the date we went on, there was a guy walking around taking pictures. I guess Barrett kept it."

For a moment, Hotch looked like he was going to push for more, like he knew that she wasn't exactly telling the whole truth, but then, abruptly, he backed off.

JJ wasn't naïve enough to believe that he'd let it go.

Here just wasn't the place for it.

But that line, well it was pretty much gone now.

She glanced over at the picture, her eyes settling on the beer bottles. A night full of drinking just to make it through.

Not exactly drunk.

Not exactly sober either.

"Okay," Hotch said. "I don't see anything else."

"I've got all the names. We can have Garcia run them through when we get back."

Hotch nodded, then pushed the door open. JJ walked through it first, Hotch just a few steps behind.

He'd told her to swim fast when thrown into a tank full of sharks.

Good advice.

She wished she'd taken it when it had come to Gibson Barrett.

She wished she'd taken it in regards to a lot of things in her life.

Hotch settled himself behind the wheel, happy to be back in control, thankful that the blonde would no longer be able to test his intestinal fortitude.

He started the engine up and drove out of the parking garage.

"He seems to have been fairly well liked around there," Hotch pointed out, eyes on the road.

"He could be charming," she answered shortly, knowing that no matter what tone she used, she wasn't going to get out of answering his questions.

It was a just a matter of when he decided to get the ball rolling.

"Tell me about it," he said conversationally.

Okay, so now, she sighed.

And the line was gone.

And he was looking at her. Level. Without accusation. Almost without emotion.

It was a bit unsettling.

She took a breath. "We went out."

"How many times?" It was like an interrogation. Short questions, no more time for bullshit.

And so, her foot brushing against the last of the line as she crossed over it, she replied, "Twice."

"You've been telling everyone once." Again, not an accusation, just a statement meant to probe for the truth. She hated that he was using that tone with her.

"That's because the second time, well he kind of pushed me into it."

"How?"

"He wouldn't leave me alone. He'd call me at all hours of the day. At night, in the early morning, I mean it, you name a time and he called me. At home, at work, even when I was out of town."

"You didn't tell him to stop?"

"Of course, I did. He promised me that he just wanted to make up for the first date. He insisted it had gone badly. Said that if I went out with him a second time, he'd stop calling me unless I wanted him to. He was kind of pathetic about it and I guess I felt bad for him. I figured what could it hurt."

"Is the Polaroid from the second date?"

"Yes, we went to a fish and chips kind of place downtown. The Dock."

"I know of it. Haley's a big fan. All you can drink beer for twenty dollars."

She sighed. "Yeah."

He nodded, his eyes telling her that suddenly, it was all making a bit more sense.

But not quite enough.

There was still more to tell. More to learn.

"So you drank too much?"

"Yeah. Turned out that apologetic Barrett wasn't really all that apologetic. He was just as unbearable and obnoxious as he'd been on the first date. I suppose I could have just gotten up and called a taxi, but I figured since I was already there, I might as well enjoy the dinner and drinks part of it. I guess you could say that I got through the night the best way I could.

And…"

And…" her voice caught. She really didn't want to be having this conversation with him. He was like a parental figure to her and this was beyond uncomfortable.

Thankfully Hotch got it. And nodded. "I see. And I take it that the morning after…"

"Was awkward and uncomfortable. And what's worse, after that, he became ever more obsessed. Two, three calls every hour. Late last week I finally went over to his place, told him that either he knocked it off or I would file charges."

"Did he stop?"

"Yes."

"But?" Hotch asked, eyebrow lifting a bit. She was still holding back.

"He tried to get a little rough with me first. And a little grabby. When he wouldn't let go, I punched him."

Hotch couldn't help but smile just a bit. After a moment he asked, "Which is how you found about his glass jaw?"

JJ seemed a bit surprised. Hotch hadn't been at the house when she'd told Morgan and Prentiss about Barrett's habit of getting knocked out.

"Morgan put it in his case notes and then put his case notes into Barrett's file," Hotch told her. "I looked them over on the way to the law office."

"Oh," she said simply, mentally admonishing herself for not realizing that. Morgan liked to notate everything, tended to believe that even the smallest detail could turn out to be relevant. Then, elaborating, "Yes and no. He had told me previously about getting punched several times, but when I hit him, I wasn't thinking about that. I was just trying to get his hands off of me. I was just trying to get away."

"And…you did?" there was the smallest hint of fear in his tone. Like he was almost afraid that maybe she hadn't.

But then she nodded and her eyes gleamed with a bit of pride. "He went out like a rock. I left the house. That's the last I saw of him. I guess…I figured maybe he'd finally gotten the message."

"You could have told us…you could have told me all of this."

"I know," she replied. "I just…Hotch, you understand, right? I need to be able to hold my own. I need you guys to know that I can."

"This is about Georgia, isn't it?"

She flinched. But didn't deny it.

Then, quietly, "Do you realize that the only time I've fired my gun in the three years that I've been with this unit, I was shooting at dogs."

"That's a good thing," he told her. "Trust me, you don't want that first kill."

"No," she admitted. "But I need to know that if I had to take that shot, I could."

Hotch didn't say anything, for a moment didn't quite seem sure what to say.

And so JJ pushed on. "Barrett was a bastard. I don't know if he was a bad man, but he was a creep who thought he was entitled to anything and everything. And the more resistance, the better. The only reason he wanted me was because I didn't want him. If I had been like all of the other women in his life, chasing after him, he'd have forgotten about me."

"Probably," Hotch confirmed, wondering where she was heading.

"But he was my bastard, my personal one to deal with."

"See that's the problem," Hotch replied. "All of us, you, Elle, Reid, even Gideon and I, we've all gotten to used to our secrets. When we're in the field, we cover each other's backs, but when things are quiet, we all go our separate ways. Doesn't make a lot of sense when you think about it. Morgan said it, we all practically live together already. Seems kind of silly to work so hard to hide things from each other."

"We all need respect."

"JJ," Hotch said, turning down a street. "I respect you because I know who you are and I know what you're capable of. My respect is not tied to making a few bad decisions. Believe it or not, we'll all human and just because we deal with the minds of others doesn't mean that we're completely capable of managing our own issues."

She nodded slowly.

And then he added, "I have no fear, none, that if it came down to it, if my life was on the line, you could take that shot. I know you could. And so does Morgan and Gideon and Prentiss…"

"And Reid?"

Hotch smiled thinly. "And Reid."

JJ answered his comment was an unconvincing smile of her own. One that told him that she knew that he wasn't as sure as he was trying to sound.

But before she could challenge him, Hotch suddenly jumped. Not much. Just a bit. He reached down to his belt and pulled his pager free. He looked down at what was written there and frowned.

"Everything okay?" JJ asked.

"Yeah," Hotch replied. "It's from Garcia. She says she needs to see me as soon as I get back in. Says it's an emergency."

And somewhere deep in JJ's gut, she felt a sudden coldness snap.

Hotch felt the same thing.