Author's Note: Thanks to everybody who has read and reviewed this story. I was genuinely surprised by the outpouring of support. I'm glad you are enjoying this story.
Just by way of explanation, this story is very personal to me. I understand readers who may think of JJ as weak or spineless, but I'd like to point out that every time she defies Will or talks back to him, it shows what strength she has. Just getting out of bed in the morning is fighting to survive. For many people who find themselves in this situation, it isn't like they wake up one day and all the sudden they've been involved with this monster. It's gradual, and as awful as it sounds, people who have suffered at the hands of domestic violence don't realize that the psychological/emotional abuse is bad. They find excuses, blame themselves for the physical abuse. If you or anyone you know is suffering at the hands of an abuser (whether it be physical or otherwise) please visit: www [dot] thehotline [dot] org or call 1 800 799 SAFE
Weeks later, Penelope pulled out her ringing phone while the rest of the team continued to prepare for their weekly 'UnSub Annihilation', this time, taking place in Apple Valley Minnesota.
As she looked at the caller ID, her face blanched and she quickly excused herself from the others.
This was urgent.
"Where are you?" Penelope asked immediately, not bothering with pleasantries.
JJ didn't call her about pleasant things anymore.
When JJ didn't answer, Garcia cursed the fact she was hundreds of miles away from her very best friend.
Who needed her.
Times like these were when apparition would come in handy.
Or a nice 'beam me up, Scotty'-esque transportation.
A soft breathing was on the other line, and the lack of words terrified Garcia more than any of the horrific images she saw cross her screens daily.
"JJ?" Garcia asked, hoping that her worst fears couldn't be recognized.
Please don't let her be dead.
"JJ!" She was shouting now, aware that the profilers still cleaning up the conference room were watching her with confusion. Stepping outside the conference room and she ran to find somewhere she could be alone.
Somewhere she could find out what the hell was going on.
Without having everybody hear.
How the hell did this happen?
"Answer me JJ!" She shouted nearing hysteria, the very threads of her psyche fraying like a thin rope suspending an elephant.
The soft, familiar whimper that answered her stopped her in her tracks. "Henry?"
This entire situation was so messed up.
She held her breath and for a moment, no words were passed as both she and Henry simply breathed into the phone.
"Henry, is everything okay?" She asked, holding her breath as she hoped against hope that she would wake up only to find this was all some nightmare.
Some horribly terrible nightmare as a result of too many pepperonis or a late night Hershey's Sunday Pie.
But this was a nightmare that she couldn't seem to wake herself from.
Because she had tried.
And if this was a dream than someone upstairs had one wonky sense of humor.
After a minute of listening to her godson breathe silently into the phone, she asked again, "Henry, is your Mom okay?"
She could hear scuffling, static that could only mean that Henry was moving from wherever he had hidden towards hopefully a fully conscious and uninjured Jennifer Jareau.
If only Garcia could be so lucky.
"There!" Will's voice shouted. Even muffled by whatever Henry was holding the phone under, Will's voice echoed through the phone. "Ask me again for your fucking medicine!"
"I'm sorry—" JJ coughed pathetically, her voice far weaker than it ever should be. "I have Bronchitis." She tried to explain.
"Take it!" Will bellowed. "You've been bitching at me all night! Take it!"
"I can't take that much—" JJ coughed again, her thick bark breaking Garcia's heart.
"Take all of it damn it! Take it all!" Will screeched.
Garcia gasped, horrified as she heard a scuffle—followed by a sickening slap—and a sputtering.
JJ coughed, fighting to catch her breath. "I need—I can't breathe"
"Who gives a shit?" Will spat venomously. "I'm going out."
JJ let out a sob and Penelope felt her entire soul shattering as the door slammed shut. Somehow, she found herself back at the conference room with Prentiss and Rossi looking her at confusion.
"Get Hotch on the phone." She rasped, her own voice thick with emotion. It was only then she realized she had tears running down her face. "I need Hotch—now!" She urged the stunned profilers, not willing to even breathe too quickly that it might disconnect the call.
She prayed Hotch could get there in time, thanking his need to be close to Jack that made him leave as soon as the UnSub was caught.
Please let him get there in time.
He didn't even knock.
The late night phone call from a confused Dave surprised him, mostly because he knew the UnSub had been caught and all the team tried to help him preserve uninterrupted moments with his son.
But the one word uttered after Dave handed the phone over to Garcia, JJ, sent him completely over the edge.
She was hurt—he knew it.
And all he could see was red.
He didn't even knock as he barreled through the door, gun in hand as if now that could offer some protection. "JJ?" He shouted because he didn't know where she was at.
He probably shouldn't shout.
All he knew was she was hurt.
She needed him.
The apartment reeked of Lysol and Bleach, the pristine condition mocking the dirty horror he knew was happening behind the front door. He saw Henry sprint away from the kitchen, and rushed toward where the seven-year-old had run from.
JJ was crumpled in the corner, a small blanket and several stuffed animals surrounded her. "JJ!" He was by her side in a second, checking her pulse right away.
'Hotch?' Garcia screeched from the phone laying gently on JJ's shoulder. 'What's happening! Is she okay?'
"Call an ambulance." Hotch informed, relieved that he could at least find a slow but steady beat palpitating below his fingers.
'It's already on the way.' Penelope assured.
He was surprised at that, and momentarily dismissed his shock—he had, after all, driven like a maniac to get her.
And it was a good thing he had.
JJ was leaning heavily against the dishwasher, her head tipped to one side and vomit pooled down her arm and shoulder.
Even like that, she still looked beautiful.
Grabbing a dishcloth that spilled out of an open cabinet, he mopped up the bile as best he could, knowing that JJ would never want anyone to see her like this.
Moving her phone that rested lightly on her other shoulder, and promising Garcia he would stay by JJ's side until Garcia could get a flight back to DC, Hotch disconnected the call and surveyed the kitchen. An empty bottle of Nyquil lay haphazardly on the floor surrounded by a couple of empty prescription bottles, Hotch grimaced as he wondered what else she had taken.
That was all he had managed to glean from Garcia who wouldn't let him hang up the phone until Jessica arrived at his house seconds after he called her.
At least Jack wouldn't have to see this.
All the cabinets below the counter were opened, and pots and pans were spilled on the floor as if someone had been searching desperately for something.
Henry.
He stood to find the boy, not entirely certain that Will wouldn't pop out from behind some dark corner.
Somewhere, deep inside, he hoped so.
Because then he'd have the chance to beat the living shit out of William La Montagne.