(Hey guys! Here is chapter 11. This explores JJ's descent after Hotch banning her from the team and tell she receives help. I hope you enjoy it.

Also! I started a new story named Home, which is a Jemily fic. Feel free to check it out!

As always, read and review :) Jordon.)

"Pray that your loneliness may spur you into finding something to live for, great enough to die for." Dag Hammarskjold

Day 1

I wake up to the alarm I forgot to turn off. I hit the button and roll onto my back, unable to believe that my life has spiralled to this point. After Hotch left, I had sat there in shock for what seemed like hours. Finally I had stood and also left, ignoring everyone's offer to take me home, insisting that I shouldn't be driving. When I got home I had sat at my kitchen table with my head in my hands. I expected the tears to come but my eyes remained dry.

I can't believe Hotch suspended me. My job was my life, it had been for years. It was the reason I didn't date, didn't have any real friends other than my colleagues. Thinking about their faces last night, my cheeks burn with shame. I had let everyone see my secrets. Now everyone knew what Jennifer Jareau had to do in order to be merely ordinary. Their kind remarks come to mind but I push them away. They were merely empty words. I can see that now, looking back. You don't tell someone their a disgusting, pathetic mess to their face. You tell them they are beautiful just the way they are, even when everyone knows it isn't true.

I am now faced with a empty days. Empty hours that I have to figure out how to fill. I get out of bed and use the restroom, stripping down until I'm nude. I step on the scale and wait for the dial to settle.

104.2.

I walk into my bedrrom and stand in front of my full length mirror. I peer into the mirror and take stock of myself. My eyes seem sunken on top of my prominent cheekbones, but my cheeks are still chubby like a little girl's. My arms are slim. My collarbones jut out like a beautiful porcelain necklace. My breats have flattened out. My ribs have almost become visible beneath my skin. Under them sits a a sack of fat. I remember the woman in the cafeteria, all those months ago, assuming I was pregnant. Of course she would, why wouldn't she? My hip ones perch below it. Pillows of fat lay on my thighs. My knees have ecome knobby. My calves are sculpted, all bone and muscle.

104.2 is something I never aspired for and now I know why. It's not enough. 104 isn't good enough in the same way that 105, 110, 115, and 120 were not good enough. But I feel a shiver of fear as I consider, what will be? Will I be beautiful at 100? Will I be strong at 95? At 90, will I finally reach perfection?

I take a shower, blasting myself with hot water until I stop shaking. I towell off and dress in sweats and a tee shirt. It's just as well that I don't have to go in for work because none of my dress clothes fit. Not even the pants that I have left over from when I first joined the bureau. Once pon a time I couldn't get them to button; now they fall low on my hips, threatening to fall to the ground.

I go to the kitchen and prepare myself my black coffee and hard boiled eggs. When I'm done eating them, I do the dishes. I wipe down the counters and sweep the floor. Then I set back down at the table. The day is empty and I'm all alone.

Day 5

When I open my door to find Garcia on my doorstep, I'm not surprised. In fact, I expected her sooner. She gives me a hug and comes inside, anxious to escape the evening chill. Part of me is happy to see her. She is the only real human contact I've had other than the checker at the grocery store and the people I pass as I run in the park. But I am mainly suspicious and uneasy about how she forsees us spending the evening. She is bearing many bags and she sets up shop in the living room. She pulls out bottles of wine and bags of popcorn. She produces several DVDs and tells me that I get to pick what we watch. I get two wineglasses from the cabinet and pour myself a glass of water.

"How are thing at the BAU?" I ask when she takes a second to breathe.

"Uhm… good! The same. Well not the same, because you're not there, which is stinky, but… we're holding on. How… How are you?"

"I'm fine." What used to be a great friendship with easy, witty banter has turned awkward. We gaze at each other for a moment. Then her eyes flicker down to my chest and I realize she is staring at my collarbones which are not hidden by my tee shirts scoop neck. I hurriedly pick a movie and grab a sweater from my room, pulling it over my head. Garcia pops the popcorn in my microwave and I settle in onthe couch. She comes back with a bowl and sets it on the coffee table. She pours us each a glass of red wine and hands one to me. I take it and she holds hers up in a toast.

"To you coming back to us someday." I shamefully clink mine against hers and take a small sip. The tart, dry liquid swirls in my mouth. I swallow it and give her a small smile.

5 ounces of cabernet. 122 calories. That's okay. I can do that. Today the scale had read 102.6. One glass of wine in place of my normal dinner is okay. But when she tries to offer me the bowl of popcorn, I pretend as if I'm already engrossed in the opening scenes of Pretty Woman. She takes the hint and sets it back down. We talk a little throughout the movie, commenting on the crazy fashion choices and how handsome Richard Gere is. As they begin to have sex on the piano, she tries again.

"Jayje, do you want some popcorn?" she asks hopefully. I shake my head, refusing to take my eyes from the screen.

"I'm fine, thanks."

"C'mon, just have a handful."

"I'm okay, really."

"JJ, it's really-"

"I said I don't want any." I snap. I can see the sad look cross her face from the corner of eye, but I don't apologize. We watch the rest of the movie in silence.

When the credits roll, she packs everything back into the bag other than the opened bottle of wine and the bowl of popcorn. I walk her to the front door.

Before she leaves, she wraps me in a tight hug. I return it, finding comfort in the smell of perfume and the fur collar of her jacket against my cheek. "I'm worried about you." she whispers. When I don't respond, she continues "You can beat this. But you have to try okay? Because I need you. I need you and the team needs you but we can't have you back until you start eating healthy. And I love you. And I want you back with us where you belong. We miss you."

I sigh against her. "I miss you, too." She kisses my cheek and steps out into the night. Walking inside I carry the popcorn into the kitchen. I dump it all into the trash, placing the bowl in the sink. I'm sorry Pen. But I can't.

Day 14

When Hotch calls and asks if he can stop by, I feel the anxiety roll through my stomach. But I tell him yes, because I know it wasn't really a question. I pull my hair into a ponytail and layer another sweater over my long sleeve tee. He knocks and I let him in. His eyes sweep my apartment and I can see him analyzing everything, looking for clues.

"I thought we weren't supposed to profile each other." I remind him softly.

"We're also supposed to keep ourselves healthy and do what's best for the team." His tone is calm and measured. I follow him as he walks into the kitchen. He doesn't ask me for permission before opening the fridge. I watch as he looks at the meager groceries held within: eggs, apples, celery, a pack of string cheese, low cal butter spray. He shuts the door and begins opening my cabinets. When he finds that my pantry only holds a box of crackers and cans of soup and tuna, he shuts the cabinet door and turns to me.

"JJ." I wait, but he doesn't say anything else.

"What Hotch?" I finally ask.

"This has to stop. We need you back in the field."

"Then let me back on the team. You're the one who took me off."

He folds his arms. "I can't."

"Why?"

"You know why. JJ, this is so, so incredibly dangerous. And reckless if you ask me. I mean, I'm looking at you, but I can't recognize you. This isn't the woman who was so full of life and fight that you could barely look at her. Where is she? Where is the agent who took an oath to protect her country, and right the wronged?"

His words touch me deeply. "I… I don't know."

He watches me, but I refuse to break down in front of him again. He sighs, bringing his hands to his hips. "How much do you weigh?"

"It's not really any of your business."

"JJ."

"98.5"

He lets out another sigh, and this one seems to age him before my very eyes. He looks into my eyes and I feel ashamed for letting him down.

"I… brought the names of some the doctors that can help. They aren't affiliated with the Bureau, so no one has to know." He pulls a folder fom the briefcase sitting by my front door. He sets it gently on the table. I hug my arms around myself.

"Please JJ. Please talk to someone. You need help. And we need you. I need you back."

I stare at the folder for a moment. "I want to come back." I whisper.

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Hotch." He letshimself out, and I sit at the table and cry.