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.
To rem: The Spanish in this chapter should be a little more explained. ALSO, I'm sorry I forgot to translate the Spanish in the last chapter. The boy said to JJ, "Come on, bitch, Manuel will be angry if we are late."
Hotch sighed as he stopped the SUV just short of the runway. The last thing he wanted to do was allow this boy on the plane with JJ, but after he had cuffed the boy the first thing he had found in the boy's pockets was JJ's long lost FBI badge. Almost more disconcerting was the fact the boy was also carrying a Glock 23—Standard Issue FBI, and coincidentally, the type of gun JJ used to carry. While the serial numbers had been filed off, Hotch had a sickening feeling that he knew the previous owner of this particular weapon.
Yanking the boy out of the van, Hotch stopped short of the stairs leading up to the jet. "Now listen—I'm only going to say this once." He ground out gruffly. "We are going to get on this plane, and you will stay right in the seat next to me. If you say a single word, I will make you wish you had never been born. Do you understand?"
The kid gulped nervously, his Adam's apple bobbing with apprehension. As they entered the jet, Hotch's face fell as he saw the woman huddled into herself on the couch, quietly focused on the front of the plane. Seconds later, Emily returned from the front of the plane with a blanket in hand, offering only a quirked eyebrow in Hotch's direction before turning back to the blonde.
"Here, this is for you" Emily held the blanket out to JJ who eyed it warily for only a second before snatching it tightly and clutching onto the blanket like a lifeline. Emily couldn't shake the reminder that sprung to her mind of Henry a few years earlier with his own trusted Blankie.
Hotch and Emily shared a look over the leather seats of the plane. 'What had JJ gone through to elicit such a reaction to a blanket?'
Emily wasn't sure she wanted to know.
Hotch was beginning to feel like he knew too much already.
The boy, sitting at Hotch's left, looked over the seat at what had perplexed the agents. At the sight of JJ's tight grip on the blanket, and the almost imperceptible look of genuine content, the boy laughed heartily. Suddenly feeling emboldened, the boy commanded, still laughing, "Drop it, puta."
JJ jerked violently as she whipped around searching frantically for a voice she knew too well but hadn't seen board. Immediately, she dropped the blanket and turned her body to face the couch, raising her trembling arm above her head. Emily shot Hotch the dirtiest look she could muster before pushing JJ's arm back down and attempting to hand JJ the discarded blanket.
Hotch thrust his forearm against the kid's throat, pinning him to the wall of the jet. "Speak again," Hotch warned coldly, applying a little more force than was necessary to the kid's throat "and I will kill you. Comprende?"
The kid nodded, still smiling as he settled back in his seat. "Sure, whatever you say Agent Hotchner."
An hour later, JJ hadn't moved from her spot on the couch. Emily could feel her own stomach rumbling, and could only imagine what JJ was feeling. Standing up, she hesitated for only a second before leaving her charge and making her way to the back of the plane where Hotch and the kid sat.
"She really needs to eat something." Emily murmured to Hotch, hoping the kid wouldn't be able to hear her.
Hotch nodded, thinking over what possible food they had in the jet. By the time they landed in DC, it would be around 40⁰ F, and the last thing they needed was for JJ to get any sicker than she already was. A memory pricked at his mind, and he nodded happy that he had remembered something so insignificant at the time, "Morgan left some soup in the bottom cabinet of the bathroom." He instructed, "Reid has a thermos—"
Emily waved him off, knowing just as well where the rest of the items would be. Quickly retrieving the Campbell's Soup and Reid's thermos, she waited for only a minute before offering the mug to her friend.
Holding the thermos out to JJ, Emily forced herself to smile as the other woman eyed it warily. Looking back to the boy, it was easy to see that she was looking for some instruction from him.
The kid smiled smugly, earning a hard elbow to his gut. "Tell her it's okay to eat." Hotch commanded in a low voice.
"Usted debe hacer lo que dicen. El es tu dueño." The kid spoke up innocently, though Hotch could easily see the mischievous glint in the kid's eyes. Turning to Hotch, the kid shrugged. "You can tell her to eat it yourself."
"No. JJ—you're safe—" Emily insisted, pulling the soup away from quickly JJ and cradling it close to herself.
"JJ. Please eat." Hotch begged, completely misinterpreting Emily's reaction and attributing it to something JJ had said that was inaudible to his ears. "You need to eat."
Reluctantly, but forcefully, grabbing the thermos from Emily's hands, she quickly put the cup against her lips, and sat up, looking back at Hotch for approval.
Hotch smiled triumphantly at Emily who simply gaped incredulously in response. "What the hell, Hotch?" She hissed angrily as JJ quietly drank the soup, eyeing Hotch closely.
"She's eating, isn't she?" Hotch defended, sitting back in his chair. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the boy snicker softly and had a sickening feeling that Emily was on the right track.
"Because you told her to." She retorted angrily. A flash of understanding crossed over her eyes as she realized that Hotch didn't speak Spanish. Pulling away from JJ slowly, she turned toward Hotch and whispered pointedly, "he told her you're her master."
Hotch felt his stomach churn at the realization that he had been duped. Gaping at JJ, dumbfounded, he caught her eye for just a second before he saw terror fill her eyes. "Lo siento, lo siento." She murmured, looking away quickly and ducking her head as she sipped the soup.
"Sorry?" Hotch thought, for once in this entire encounter, able to pull on his high school Spanish, "what does she have to be sorry for?" Mentally slapping himself, he pulled back in disgust. She was sorry for even looking at him. "What have I done?" He cursed himself mentally.
Grabbing the boy at his side by the scruff of his neck, "Come with me, now."His voice dropped coldly to a deadly calm as he threw the boy in the small jet bathroom. "Stay there." He ordered.
Turning back toward JJ and Emily, he sighed as he took in the trembling blonde. Emily shot him a look, pleading with him to do something as she offered JJ the discarded blanket once more.
JJ steadily refused the blanket, sipping the soup slowly as she eyed Hotch while he came and sat closer to the two women—not close enough that he thought he would scare JJ, but wanting his own chance to make sure that this wasn't just another one of his recurring dreams. JJ hugged herself, rubbing her trembling fingers over her sore arm, and it didn't take a genius to see the shiver she desperately tried to hide.
Hotch cursed himself mentally for not thinking of it sooner. Dressed only in hospital scrubs, even the temperature controlled jet would be too cold for the underweight, ill woman. Emily tried to drape the blanket over JJ gently, only to have JJ shrug the blanket off immediately. Groaning inwardly, he spoke up softly. "JJ, it's okay. You can take it." He nodded to Emily who held the blanket out to the blonde again.
Suspicious, JJ eyed the blanket for a few moments before slowly reaching out her hand and pulling the blanket toward her. Cautiously, as if to check and see if Hotch would change his mind, she gently draped the plush fabric over her—still maintaining a vice-like grip on a corner of the blanket.
Hotch felt his heart sink further with each moment of silence that passed. He knew he had to say something, but he couldn't help the mortifying realization that continued to pummel his already distraught soul. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore, "JJ—" He winced as she jumped at the sign of his voice before she quickly put the thermos up to her lips and began to drink more rapidly. "JJ—I…" He trailed off, wondering if she was even listening to him while she stared off into space, her gaze focused just far enough away from him that she could catalogue his every movement with her peripheral vision.
Sighing, he started again, "About what happened earlier. JJ—I'm not, I could never be your dueño—your master," He spat the last word out quickly, as if trying to get the bad taste it left in his mouth out as soon as possible. "I'm sorry."
She barely blinked, and for a moment, his heart fell at the idea that she hadn't even heard him due to some coping mechanism. But, brightening slightly, he realized that even in the slightest chance she had caught part of his important apology, it was worth it.
He would do whatever it took to get JJ to trust him again—to make the fear in her eyes disappear.
Even if it killed him.
TRANSLATION:
Usted debe hacer lo que dicen. El es tu dueño. You'd better do what they say. He is your master.