(Hello beautiful readers! Here is the fourteenth and final chapter to this story. Over all this has been wonderful, if intimate and painful to write. I've used it to reignite my love for writing and I am so glad I did! So, even though this story is ending, I'm still working on several. If you feel so inclined, feel free to check out Home, a dramatic Jemily fic, Something Desired, a very smutty Jotch fic, Here For You, or Monster, both angsty Criminal Minds one shots.
Also, as a sidenote, I changed my username! My new username, littleoblivion, takes inspiration from E.E Cummings poem 'Don't get Me Wrong, Oblivion. I'm currently working on this poem for class and am in love.
This story has been a pleasure. Thank you for reading to the end. Please leave me a review, letting me know what you think. I love you. Jordon.)
"Today I choose life. Every morning when I wake up I can choose joy, happiness, negativity, pain... To feel the freedom that comes from being able to continue to make mistakes and choices - today I choose to feel life, not to deny my humanity but embrace it." Kevyn Aucoin
I stand in the parking lot of the BAU and nervously pull the handle of my bag higher up on my shoulder. It's been seven months since I last came in to work, almost six since my heart attack. As if to remind me that I was okay, that it is back to working hard, my heart gives a nervous pitter patter within my chest.
As I walk up the sidewalk, the warm late May breeze spins around me. It smells like honeysuckle and I let myself take a moment to close my eyes and truly breathe it in. I can hear the words of my therapist resounding in my head. One foot in front of the other, one small step at a time. I open my eyes and gaze back at the building with newfound determination. I can do this.
I begin the walk up the sidewalk to the double doors and can't help but reflect over how much things have changed, how much I have changed. Upon my release three days fter my collapse, I wasn't even allowed to walk out of the hospital on my own. Instead, I had been taken to the ground level in a wheelchair and gently deposited into Emily's waiting car. Because it went without saying that I was in no condition to drive myself. She had driven me to my house in a comfortable, unassuming silence. She had even stayed with me and chatted on my bed as I sorted through my things and packed a large suitcase. Because I couldn't stay there. I knew that if I allowed myself to stay all alone in that silent apartment, I would never conquer these demons.
Because I wanted that more than anything. Lying in that hospital bed, watching the nurses and colleagues filter in and out, I made the decision that I couldn't live this life anymore. I had to get better. Yes, so that I could go back to the job I loved and to ease the anguish I could see clearly written across my friends' faces, but mainly because I wanted more. I wanted a life that didn't revolve around calories and the number on the scales. I wanted to go out, have fun, maybe try to find love. But more than anything I wanted to be happy. After almost murdering myself in the name of beauty, I deserved a little bit of joy.
When I was done packing, I locked the door to the apartment and handed Emily the key. She would look after it while I was gone. I had enough in savings and with my paid leave that it would be waiting for me when I returned. She lugged the suitcase that I was too weak to carry to her car and drove me the few hours to the facility. We turned on the radio and sang loudly to bad pop songs to conceal how scared we were of what I was about to do.
I am certain that I couldn't have gotten through that day without Em. She stayed by my side through the entire ordeal. She brought in my bag, kept me company in the waiting room. She accompanied me during the admissions paperwork and the physical exam. Even when I stripped down to my sports bra and underwear to be weighed, and my skeletal frame with it's sharp angles and concave curves moved her to tears, she didn't leave. When it finally came time to say goodbye, she hugged me tightly and whispered encouragement in my ear. For the next three months we traded phone calls and letters, and she even came to see me on visitation day. Garcia had came to, and we had played scrabble and laughed, and when they had to leave I cried until it felt like my body would fall apart. I missed them. I missed my job and my life.
In patient treatment is the hardest thing I've ever done. There were days when I was consumed with anger at the doctors, for taking away my freedom and independence. I wept bitter tears as I slowly began to fill out, my body feeling soft and bloated. Sometimes I felt so awful and disgusting that I just wanted to give up. But then I would think about my friends, how they were waiting for me on the other side. I had to do this. I had to get better.
At the double doors I swipe my ID and pull it open. My heels click against the marble floor as I walk across the atrium to the elevators. I swipe my ID again and hit the button. As I wait for the doors to open I can't help but examine my reflection in the blurry metal doors. I don't know how much I weigh. I had weighed 91.5 pounds when I went for that fateful run with Morgan. I had been weighed continually throughout my time at the clinic, but I had never been told the results. At the 90 day mark, the staff had determined that I had made enough progress to return home and begin out patient treatment. Emily once again made the trip to retrieve me, and we had even celebrated with Starbucks. I had only been able to finish half of my nonfat latte, but the fact that I had ordered it at all spoke volumes about the effort I was making. When we arrived at my apartment, the first thing I did was retrieve the scale from my bathroom and press it into her hands.
"Please take this. Just take it, and throw it away. I just can't have it here." And she had nodded and carried it to her car without a question, never to be seen in my apartment again. So I still have no idea what I weigh. I can tell that I've gained weight obviously, but I am doing my best to focus on just living.
The doors open and I step inside. I'm so excited to see everyone. I had seen Em and Penelope several times, and Hotch when I came in to speak to him about coming back. I had presented him with letters from my treatment team within the clinic,the therapist I'm seeing now, the BAU psychologist, and my cardiologist. All stated that I was okay to resume my duties and I couldn't help the smile that spread across my face when Hotch simply shook my hand and welcomed me back on to the team.
The doors ding and I step out. I walk through the glass doors and down the hall. Hotch had gathered everyone in the conference room and I could hear their friendly banter as I approached. I took the last few steps and was met with the sight of my wonderful team. Emily is the first to see me.
"JJ!" she calls, alerting the others to my presence. I take a step in but before I have a chance to say anything, Penelope's ams are wrapped around me. I laugh as I hug her back, avoiding getting my eye poked out by the giant sea turtle clip anchored to one of her buns.
"Oh my god I missed you! But you're here!" She pulls back. "Wait are you here here? Or are you just visiting? Please tell me you are back back so that I can gaze upon your beautiful face everyday."
"Don't worry, Garcia." Hotch assures from across the room. "JJ's back." She squeals and hugs me again.
Next, I hug Emily. "It's good to have you home." she whipsers into my ear.
"Why didn't you tell us you were coming back?" asks Derek as he pulls me in, tucking my head below his chin.
"I don't know, I figured we could all use a good surprise for once." I grin back.
Rossi gives me a hug after Derek. "It's good to have you back, Jen. And just in time, now Aaron can stop giving the press conferences, a true public service!" We all laugh and Hotch pats me good naturedly on the back.
"He's not wrong. I have a lot of talents and the art of the press conference is not one of them."
Spence is sitting on the edge of the table. I approach him and hold out my hand. He takes it, then stands to give me a hug. "I've missed you." he mumbles.
"I know." I respond quietly. I turn back to the rest of the team. "I've missed you all so much, and I can't even tell you how glad I am to be back."
"And… Everything's good? Heart… Everything?" Morgan asks the question I know everyone is really wanting to know.
I take a deep breath. "Yeah. I… I'm good. There's going to be days that are better than others, and it's going to take a lot of work but…" I take another deep breath as a smile spreads across my face. "I'm okay."