Author's Note: Someone kindly pointed out to me that there was a typo in the last chapter regarding Henry's age. Just to clear up any confusion, Henry is seven, Jack is ten. If I accidentally type something else, just know that is a mistake.
'You've reached Jennifer Jareau, I'm no longer working with the Department of Defense, so if you need to contact them please call Roger Altman at ...' Hotch grimaced as he slammed the phone down at getting the familiar answering machine.
Last night didn't make any sense, and he needed to talk to JJ.
But she wasn't answering.
What the hell was going on?
Hotch looked up in surprise as Garcia slammed his office door shut and gloweringly sat down in the chair across from him.
"Yes Garcia?" He asked questioningly, shuffling papers to subtly send the message that he was not to be interrupted.
He had to find out what was going on.
"Do you know?" She asked, as if this three-word question made all the sense in the world.
"Do I know—about?" He prodded.
"JJ." Penelope rolled her eyes, leaning forward intently. "Do you know?"
"That she quit the Department of Defense?" He asked, inwardly knowing—but hoping he was wrong—what Garcia's impassioned inquisition was really about. "She told me last night."
Penelope relaxed, collapsing against the back of the chair in complete relief. "She went to your house last night?"
Hotch hesitated, not wanting to voice his newfound suspicions aloud if he was completely off the mark. Normally, he didn't ever question his ability to profile.
Live by the profile, die by the profile.
But this was JJ.
And this couldn't possibly be happening to her.
"Yes." He settled on vaguely replaying the events of the night before. "She was at my house and I let her in—"
"So she told you what happened?" Garcia smiled in relief. "Oh, thank God. I thought she'd never—" Seeing the look on Hotch's face, her countenance fell. "She didn't tell you, did she?"
Hotch bit the inside of his lip thoughtfully. "I—"
Penelope drooped visibly, her head falling to her hands as the weight of the world flattened her normally. "Never mind." She whispered, her voice cracking in utter defeat. Looking up at him, she sniffed back the tears of failure as she tried to excuse herself. "Sorry, I'll just—"
"It's happening to her." Hotch interrupted, his voice cold and muted with disbelief. "Isn't it?"
Garcia stopped, her mouth dropping open slightly. "You know." She sat back in the chair, torn between feeling a wave of gratitude that she no longer was fighting this battle alone.
"I know." Hotch nodded softly. Sighing, he leaned forward. "Now I need you to tell me everything you know."
Hotch was surprised at how small Garcia's office seemed. Maybe that was because he felt like the world as he knew it was crashing down around him.
Maybe it was because with all Garcia did for the team, she deserved a bigger office.
Even if her office was still bigger than his own.
Still, she deserved a bigger office.
"I never liked that Cajun Trash." Garcia muttered as she retrieved a thick file out of her filing cabinet.
"How long have you known?" Hotch asked, fighting the urge to drop this carefully sorted stack of papers and beat the pulp out of Will La Montagne.
"Long enough." Penelope shook her head. "I mean, when I first met him, something was off."
Hotch nodded, remembering a similar feeling. He too had felt the alarm bells start ringing when Will showed up during a case, forcing JJ air their relationship to the team.
Or when he demanded her to take herself out of the field.
But he had dismissed it as a worried boyfriend looking after the welfare of his girlfriend and unborn child.
Even then, though, it was odd.
"We went out to dinner a couple of times. I remember that he just kept putting her down. He told embarrassing stories that made Jayje feel uncomfortable. It was weird." Penelope rubbed her forehead, wondering not for the first time why she hadn't noticed the signs sooner. "But she told me that was just how he was."
Hotch nodded grimly, disgusted as he filed through pages and pages of detailed injuries. Sometimes, there was a picture or two cataloguing various injuries.
Bruises.
Stitches.
Burns.
Bite marks.
He felt disgusted. "When did—" He trailed off, unable to really clarify what he was asking.
He didn't really know himself.
"One night, we had just gotten home from a case—JJ called me from the hospital." Penelope bit her lip at the memory of going to the hospital only to feel like the rug had been slid out from underneath her.
"And you knew." Hotch deduced, glancing back to the first page where he rightfully assumed was the second Garcia started compiling the information. Broken ankle. Rope burns on her wrists.
How could he not have known this was happening?
"I thought she would leave. And I almost had her convinced too." Garcia felt her eyes burning, but needed to get this out.
It had been a secret for too long.
"What happened?" Hotch asked softly.
An errant tear escaped down her cheek as she remembered the feeling of utter hopelessness. "We were leaving the hospital and he showed up." She shook her head, full of revulsion for the man who was slowly destroying her very best friend. "He apologized!"
"She went back to him?" Hotch fought the bile that rose in his throat at the thought of what JJ was going through.
What Henry was going through.
He knew too well what that felt like.
Penelope nodded, and soon, the words exploded from her mouth in a desperate attempt to make him understand. She still felt so guilty. She should have done something to stop this, but she couldn't. "I did everything I could think of. Hotch, she made me swear not to tell everyone."
"You should have told us." Hotch bit out darkly, still loathing himself for not catching this earlier.
"When? When we were hunting serial killers? When I was standing in front of people with cameras and they kept asking me questions? When was I supposed to tell you?" Garcia pled.
"We needed to know. You should have told me." Hotch grimaced at the sight of the picture on the page he had turned to.
"How? How could I betray her trust? Hotch, she has nothing. She has no one. I'm the only one who knows, the only one she can call." Penelope's voice cracked, "Hell, I know she doesn't call me half the time. But don't you see? If she can't trust me, if she loses her trust in me, he wins." She choked back the emotion as she willed Hotch to understand. "If she can't trust me, he's got her all alone."
Hotch gulped, knowing all too well what that would mean. "You tried to get her to leave?" He asked.
Garcia nodded, swiping away a stray tear with the back of her hand. "A couple of times." She sniffed back her emotions, rubbing her temple tiredly. "She said—she said she needed him." Penelope spat the words out in complete disgust. "And—"
"And Henry needed a father?" Hotch asked, already knowing the familiar answer.
After all, it was his mother's justification.
Why wouldn't it be JJ's?
"How did you know?" Garcia gaped at him.
Hotch cringed, "I've—" He hesitated, not willing to unburden a lifetime of excuses on the tech, "I've heard it before."
Somewhat satisfied, Penelope sat back in her chair, quiet as Hotch continued to pour through the file in front of him. After a minute, she spoke up again. "She's not on any of the bank accounts anymore."
Hotch looked up in surprise, before nodding grimly. "Financial dependency." He murmured, his stomach falling.
"It gets worse." Garcia sighed, reaching over to the file in his hands and flipping familiarly to a specific page. "He—" She trailed off, unable to say the words as she gestured to the medical file in his hands.
Hotch's brow furrowed in confusion. "Major Depression Disorder…Agoraphobia…" Hotch scanned the medical diagnoses that labeled JJ as suffering from mental illness. He closed his eyes in an attempt to stop the burning in his eyes. "JJ? Afraid of being in crowds or out in public alone?" He shook his head in utter disbelief, "She's probably the least Agoraphobic person I've ever met."
Despite the severity of the information in front of him, he almost laughed at the glare Penelope leveled at him.
"Except you, of course." He amended.
"Damn straight. But...from the reports I read, Will took her to the hospital saying she was trying to hurt herself. Based off his helpful observations, the doctors gave her a psychiatric diagnosis. And abuse turns into self-mutilation. Attempted murder turns into attempted suicide. And magically, CPS has reason to take Henry away if JJ was to ever leave."
Hotch groaned, "He's attributing his violence to her." He ran his hands over his eyes tiredly, "And she probably never said anything different. She might actually believe him."
"But the worst part? He turns a system designed to protect people like her against her." Garcia seethed.
Hotch fell silent, mystified at how he could have missed this.
With his childhood, he should have been an expert.
And yet he missed it.
Looking over the familiar photographs again, Penelope felt herself fill with rage, "I hate him! Hotch, did you know that there's nothing I can do?"
"Nothing?" He asked, knowing that if there was a way, Garcia would have been able to find it.
"Nothing!" Penelope yelled in frustration. "I write everything down in his file, and then what? He gets fired? Then JJ and Henry don't get to eat. I report it to CPS? JJ's got a mental health diagnoses that would make them take Henry away! Anything I try and do hurts JJ not the scumbag."
"How did you find all of this?" Hotch asked, not for the first time astounded at Penelope's ability to uncover information. JJ's car insurance was switched to Will's name.
Her car was under Will's name.
Damn.
"It wasn't easy. Especially once her government health insurance expired. Apparently Will has 'conveniently forgotten' to add JJ under his policy." Garcia ground out with derision.
"And Henry?" He asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.
If Henry was being hurt, William La Montagne Jr. might not make it to see tomorrow-as it was, the measly weasle was only alive right now because he had managed to slime his way through the system.
But there would also be things he could do to make sure JJ and Henry were safe.
It was a catch-22.
Damn.
Penelope sighed with relief. "That's the bright side, if you can call it that. Henry's never gone to the Emergency Room, when JJ's called me, I've checked Henry over and there's never been so much as a scratch," She ran her hand through her hair, "But Hotch, I don't know what more I can do..."
"We'll help her Garcia." He promised the woman on the verge of tears, almost saying the words for his own benefit as much as Garcia's. "We have to." He promised, praying inwardly that someone would zap him with the knowledge of what the hell he was supposed to do.