Author's note: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed or alerted this story. Again, I'll direct you to the warnings in the first chapter of this story. I will also take the time to explain right here: this story will be sad. It will be devestating. BUT, I promise, there will be a happy ending. I'm already 89 pages into the story, and find that it keeps getting sadder. AGAIN, there will be a happy ending, but it will take a while. So, please, bear with me. If not, that's fine too.
Ten minutes later, Dr. Gonzales had inserted a drain for the infected wound in JJ's back. Reminding Emily softly as she helped JJ change into the smallest pair of hospital scrubs they could find before taking her up to the helipad, she still maintained a forceful tone, "Now the gauze will need to be changed every three hours. The burn that appears to be a brand—you'll need to apply disinfectant to that every six to eight hours."
JJ silently moved along with the doctor's assistance, her eyes darting everywhere. Emily mentally noted that JJ's hands were beginning to shake, and the blonde was beginning to perspire—something she'd seen plenty of times as suspects went through some form of withdrawal.
Emily nodded, feeling slightly sick that she would have to look at the wound again in the future, but knowing that it needed to be done. Peeking her head out of the door, she smirked as she saw Hotch pacing softly on his phone. "Yes ma'am—" She heard him try to placate the person on the other line and smiled at the realization that he was talking to Strauss. "We are still waiting for the blood tests to confirm, but yes. We believe this is Agent Jareau." He paused for a moment, listening to the woman on the phone, and Emily couldn't help but eavesdrop, "Agent Morgan and yourself, at the airstrip would be fine." He agreed quietly.
She and Dr. Gonzales helped JJ back onto the gurney. Emily fought off the momentary pang of sadness as she looked at how small JJ looked, dwarfed in the scrubs that seemed at least three sizes too big. The doctor and a few nurses helped push JJ's gurney out of the room as they prepared to take her to the helipad. Hotch was still on the phone, and Emily instructed the others to stop while he finished what she assumed was arranging for JJ's medical care once they landed.
"Excuse me, I'm looking for my sister—Alejandra?" A young man down the hall asked a nurse, favoring his left arm. He couldn't have been more than eighteen. "We were involved in a car accident. Have you seen my sister?"
Emily's jaw dropped as she realized what was happening—someone else was looking for JJ with likely suspect motives.
Hotch, for his part, immediately ended his call and stepped toward the boy. "You're looking for Alejandra?" He asked tightly, clenching his jaw as he saw JJ immediately stiffen and duck her head to avoid looking at the boy.
The boy, obviously unaware that Hotch was a federal agent, saw his "sister" on the gurney behind Emily. "Alejandra, Manuel told me to make sure you get home safely." He smiled at the agents, looking Emily over with mild admiration before adding, "Thank you for taking care of my sister."
"Come on, puta, Manuel se enfadará si llegamos tarde. Let's go." He stepped toward Emily and JJ, only to be slammed forcefully into the wall by Hotch's full body weight.
Hotch placed his forearm forcefully on the boy's upper back. Turning to Emily, he ordered firmly, "Get her to the helicopter. I'll meet you at the jet." He ground out, shoving the boy into the wall more harshly. "You and me," He murmured into the boy's ear as he struggled in vain to get out of Hotch's grasp, "we have a lot to talk about."