Author's Note: So I almost talked myself out of letting this chapter happen (which is the reason for the writer's block that delayed the LAST chapter). But as much as I wanted JJ's sudden epiphany two chapters ago to change everything, I just couldn't do it. I want to give JJ a happily ever after, but I just couldn't do it yet. And, like many people, something JJ thinks she has under control is completely out of her control.
Thanks to all of you who havve continued to read and review despite my month-long hiatus.
Hotch felt his heart stop as Will set up the lawn chair on the sideline. "Hey Hotch," The Southern man smiled easily, as if his entire world hadn't just been shattered. As if his girlfriend and the mother of his child hadn't just left him.
Maybe she hadn't.
"Will." Hotch fought the desire to destroy the other man as the young team of seven to ten year olds trotted onto the field. "JJ's not here today?"
Hotch didn't miss the way Will's jaw tightened angrily. "She couldn't make it." He ground out, his gaze harsh as he looked out onto the field. "But thanks for watchin' Henry. We all appreciate it."
He thought he was going to throw up.
"It was fine." He dismissed, feeling his stomach roll with the thought of Will pretending like nothing had happened.
But maybe JJ was simply at home baking mounds of cookies as she waited for her perfect family.
He frowned, that was just about as likely as Morgan having a secret stash of Star Trek memorabilia.
"You know, Jack was wondering if Henry could come get ice cream with us after the game. Would that be—"
"No." Will said abruptly, and as if he recognized the sudden sharpness in his voice turned on his sickly sweet southern charm. "We need to spend some time as a family. Just the three of us."
Hotch's stomach rolled.
If something was wrong before, now everything had just gone to hell.
He waited just around the corner as he saw Will's new Lexus pull out of the driveway. Waiting until he was certain the other man was gone, Hotch pulled the hood further over his face lest Will have used his many police contacts to watch his own home.
One thing was for certain, he just had to be sure. If JJ still wasn't ready to leave, he'd understand. He wasn't about to beg her to leave with him—being rejected once was more than enough for JJ to get her point across.
As he knocked softly on the door, some part inside of him reminded him that JJ hadn't rejected him, she just was packing up to leave.
Maybe, hopefully, she would already be gone.
"JJ?" He called through the door, "It's me. Open up."
He could hear the TV blaring, and his worry grew as no occupant seemed to have any desire to open the door.
"JJ? I'm coming in." He announced, quickly throwing the spare key JJ had given him into the lock and slipping inside.
He stopped and slid the hood off his head in shock as he surveyed the destroyed apartment. Clothes were strewn everywhere. Blood dripped from the entryway table and shards glass and porcelain littered the floor.
"JJ?" He called more loudly, his worry skyrocketing by the second.
His eyes widened as he saw the suitcase that was torn apart at the seams on top of an overturned table in the corner of the room as if it had been heaved violently against the wall, knocking everything down in its path.
She had tried to leave. So where the hell was she?
Stepping further into the home, he called again. "JJ?" The urgency in his voice was heightened by his worry. "JJ, where are you?"
He ran his hand through his hair in confusion, where was she?
He was so consumed with trying to find JJ on his own, that he missed the scuffling that came from the garage as Henry bolted back into the living room to stop in front of the TV.
"JJ?" He called again, starting up the stairs before catching a glimpse of the seven-year-old that seemed to materialize out of nowhere. Turning around quickly, he tapped Henry gently on the shoulder causing the boy to whip around in surprise. "Henry, I'm looking for your mom. Do you know where she is?"
Henry nodded, his face breaking out into a soft smile though Hotch could easily see the boy had been crying. He grabbed Hotch's hand, gently tugging him through the dining room and stopping at a door that he supposed either led to the garage or the basement. Sighing as he fought the dread that rose within him, Hotch pushed the door open surprised as the stale musty air of the garage hit him with a force.
But the smell that reeked of fecal matter and urine, exacerbated by the hot and humid August air, was nothing compared to the sight of the woman he loved crumpled against the far wall of the garage. He fought the urge to wretch as JJ's bare body shivered under the large tool bench that almost looked like it was a part of her confinement.
"I couldn't get her out." Henry stated blankly, only then alerting Hotch to the raw fingertips of a boy who never should have been exposed to such violence.
Thrusting his phone into the seven-year-old's capable hands, Hotch smiled reassuringly. "I need you to stay right here and call 9-1-1 and ask them to come, can you do that for me son?"
Henry nodded and Hotch turned back to the woman he loved more than he could say in one swift motion.
He shed his sweat shirt quickly, covering up her nakedness in one single swift move, trying not to notice the way her fair ivory skin had turned into a mass of dark ugly bruises—some turning a greenish yellow, others blacker than a night without stars. He pulled off the dirty rag that seemed stuffed in her mouth and smiled kindly as her eyes opened drearily in surprise.
She blinked for a moment, as if unsure the he was really there while Hotch pulled gently at the tight telephone cord that seemed entrenched JJ's swollen wrists and ankles. "I'm here JJ." He assured, wondering how long JJ had been lying here hurt and broken while he sat on his couch mourning the loss of a relationship that barely had the chance to get started. Had it been hours? Was she like this while he was watching their sons play soccer?
He could have helped her, could have saved her.
But he was here now.
"Aaron?" She sputtered in disbelief, her lips cracked and bleeding.
"I'm here JJ," He repeated, grabbing a pair of scissors from a bucket in the garage and trying to focus on the bindings that were literally cutting off circulation to her extremities.
How could a bastard do this to the woman he claimed to love?
Hotch paused as he looked down at the almost invisible stripes that revealed the bindings preventing JJ from any movement.
He was so focused on getting her free—on releasing her from the fetters that kept her enslaved here in this torment—that he missed the mumbled words that escaped her lips.
"JJ, I need you to stay with me." He smiled despite the seriousness of the situation, finding his heart melting as the blue orbs captured his. "What did you say?"
"I—I chose wrong." She croaked, licking her soar lips.
Hotch sawed at her bindings, wincing as he sliced her delicate inflamed skin and grimaced, "JJ—"
"I—I was going to leave him." She murmured, her eyelids drooping tiredly. "I was going to leave." She slurred. "I'm sorry."
He brushed a hand against her hair as he continued to work on the restrictions that seemed to only get tighter as he tried to cut them away. "You have nothing to be sorry for JJ."
His voice was soft and gentle, and for a moment JJ felt it lulling into a sense of security.
But after the last few hours she wasn't entirely certain he was really there. Vaguely, she heard Hotch calling to Henry and mentioning something about an ambulance, but it was as if he was trying to speak to her through a thick fog that weighed down on her.
It wouldn't matter much.
Not anymore.
"Aaron?" She asked again, creaking open her eye with all her might to check and see if he really was still there.
"JJ, I need you to stay with me, okay?" His voice was desperate and he didn't bother to hide his plea behind a veil of masculinity or control. "I can't lose you."
"You—" She licked her lips, barely feeling the pain that sparked as her dry skin soaked up the moisture, "You shouldn't have come" Her arms fell limp as Hotch finally succeeding in cutting away the bindings on her wrists. "You deserve so much—" Her voice was weak, fading rapidly though she tried to finish her parting words. "But you came."
Gently, and mindful of the injuries that peppered her face, he traced along her jaw-line, willing the fierce longing he had for her to permeate his very touch. He smiled when she looked at him, "I will always come for you."
Her hand reached up and cupped his, pressing his calloused hands against her face and reeling from the warmth and comfort his presence provided. "I'm sorry." Her voice was no more than a whisper and her eyes drooped heavily.