AN: I have a 1.3 K word document with other three different versions of JJ's chapter, and two other scenes in my head that I couldn't fit here. But you've waited long enough (sorry!), so I'll keep them in the burner in the hopes that I can fit them in a future fic, were I to write it.
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Jennifer "JJ" Jareau
They are on the way to their third interview of the day when Reid breaks the silence, his eyes roaming at a faster pace over the map.
"That's interesting," he says.
"What's it?"
"This map and the one we had at the station. Some roads' names are different."
"It's not unusual in the countryside." And of course it is not, but that's something Reid already knows, so JJ hopes that him voicing this observation means he's made a break in their case.
He has.
"Tell Hotch," he tells Garcia after she has confirmed his hunch, and closes his phone with finality. They shouldn't be going into a suspected location without backup, but given the long distances and the fact that the missing children are to be killed in the next hour or so if the UNSUBs keep to their schedule, they have no choice.
By the time she parks, far enough from the farm to keep their approach a secret, he's already in the FBI vest, hand resting on his revolver, eyes darting quickly around. They have no signal, they've already checked, but at least their whereabouts are known. After a moment to go over the relevant parts of the profile they share a sharp nod and leave the car, Reid in the lead. In paper she's the senior agent, his past in the CIA hidden under "data analyst" for safety reasons, but in the field it can't be contested who is the most experienced.
"Wait," he whispers urgently, pulling her behind a crumbling stack of crates and debris. A child's whimpers carry to their location, pain and fear clear in the broken sound, and Reid's hand on her shoulder is the only thing stopping her from bolting into the house.
Wait for what, she's about to ask when the back door opens and a man walks outside. His full attention is on lighting up his cigarette, making Reid's careful approach easier. He falls in a heap of boneless limbs, barely a sound coming from his lips. Reid has already handcuffed him out of the way when JJ reaches them, and she raises an eyebrow when he ties a handkerchief over the unconscious man's mouth.
They enter the house following protocol, clearing the kitchen and the living room according to book. It goes all to hell when they reach the stairs, JJ's phone beeping loudly three times to signal the same number of incoming messages. There's no way the remaining UNSUB didn't hear the sound, the place being as silent as it is. They share a worried glance when a blood-freezing scream reaches them, then run upstairs, knowing full well that the situation has turned even more dangerous.
The two girls are bloodied and filthy and utterly scared, particularly the one whose neck the UNSUB's knife is pressing against. The man's eyes clearly show that their profile was spot on in regards to his mental health; the tremors that quake his body confirm that, as suspected, at least one of the UNSUBs has a substance abuse problem.
"Drop your weapons," he orders, and after just a bit of hesitation they do so. Then he has them kicking the guns in their direction. It is not until he orders Reid to handcuff JJ to the bed's frame that she sees her partner's calm demeanor breaks, if only slightly. The UNSUB notices, too, and he cracks a demented chuckle. "Don't worry, I'm not interested in her," he says, motioning Reid to move to the center of the room and pushing the girls in JJ's direction. "When given the choice, I prefer boys."
The way he pronounces the last word, predatorily looking at Reid, makes JJ's stomach churn. But Reid's reaction couldn't be more different to hers, his eyes freezing and his face clean of anything but cool disdain.
She yells when the UNSUB, infuriated, attacks. He has the knife on his right hand and the gun on the left but uses none, instead opting to kick Reid in the knee, hard. They get off by causing pain, Morgan's words sound clear in her mind, and she knows they have this other part of the profile right by the look in the man's eyes when he approaches a whimpering Reid.
Later she'll describe the scene to Emily and Penelope as something out of the latest Sherlock Holmes' movie, not because Reid reminds her of Robert Downey Jr., but due to how every single move seems to be carefully choreographed and planned beforehand. The UNSUB, and JJ as well, is barely processing the reverse roundhouse kick when the gun's handle meets his temple and he falls down.
The gun is the one that had been on the man's possession just a second ago, but as Henry happens to have a deep and recently discovered love for magic and Reid happens to be a sucker for Henry, JJ is somewhat used to his sleight of hand. What surprises her, though, is that he keeps knocking people off. This excessive use of violence is nothing like the man she knows.
"A baton," she blurts out, straining to reach the girls, and waiting for Reid to look questioning at her before continuing. He finally does, and she has to admit that the pain is almost completely hidden, although the fact that she can see any of it tells her how much he's likely hurting. "We should give you a baton instead of a gun," she explains, wincing when the girls latch at her and she has to twist her still cuffed arm. "Shh, it's okay, you'll be fine," she tells them.
She keeps soothing the girls, talking quietly and telling them they are going home soon, while Reid frees her wrist, secures the UNSUB and makes the call. He maintains his distance from the three of them, because law officer or not, these kids are going to need a lot of time before a strange man can approach them without causing a panic attack.
"Cigarette butts."
Reid is just out of surgery, but he immediately gets what she's referring to, if the little, tired smile is something to go by.
Morgan, on the other hand, delivers a puzzled "What?" while he holds the straw for Reid to drink.
"It rained, about two hours before we reached the farm," JJ explains, her eyes fixed on Reid. "There were a lot of cigarette butts besides the back door, most of them completely drenched, but the amount of them only partly wet was still high, which meant that somebody in the house was a chain smoker. And none of the victims smelled particularly of second-hand smoke, which meant that the house was a smoke-free zone. And none of the butts was completely dry, so we probably only had to wait a little and he'd show up."
"As it happened," Morgan adds. "And then pretty boy here kicked his ass."
"Technically-" Reid rasps out, voice rough and eyes drooping.
JJ doesn't allow him to continue.
"Technically, you need to rest, get well, get your strength back. Then we'll talk about how much ass you kick, technically as well asfiguratively."
He rolls his eyes, but it doesn't take long before he goes back to sleep. She goes home after that, leaving Morgan to keep guard. It is not until Henry asks about the bandage in her wrist that she remembers she didn't leave the house completely unscratched. But then, given that by the time the others arrived Reid had been pale, sweating and completely unable to put any weigh on his hurt knee, she can't be blamed for forgetting.
It had been something of a surprise when the surgeon told them that Reid had had reconstructive surgery in the same knee a little more than a year before. According to the man, it was going to make Reid's recovery more difficult, especially due to his allergy to opiates.
Well, JJ though, Reid had done it before, and he had recovered well enough that nobody realized his knee hadn't always been in optimal shape. She was sure nothing would stop him from doing it again.
"Is there nothing you can do?" JJ asks Reid when he arrives. He looks past her shoulder, where she knows Will is standing, and she waits while they have whatever silent conversation it is they are having.
"Let's have a walk," he says, and they do, crutches and all.
She's angry. At Strauss and the higher ups, the ones that want her and the ones that are using her as a chip to advance in their careers; but mostly, she's angry at herself. She should have foreseen this, should have gone to Hotch, Rossi, Prentiss, Reid, anybody with contacts. Well, maybe not Prentiss, given her hate for politics. But the rest of them, she knows they know people, and would have been willing to do something, had she told them what was going on.
Now, unfortunately, is too late. Hotch's career has already been on the stake for too long, and she can't ask Rossi to go against her new bosses. Even with how famous he is, the Department of Defense's headquarters are out of his sphere of influence. But Reid, Reid has worked directly with the Pentagon, and for DARPA, the CIA, DEA, NSA, INR, NRO, Homeland Security, as well as more intelligence and counterintelligence agencies she cares to remember.
"You can do something, can't you?" she asks again, even if Reid's continued silence tells her the answer is no.
"Do you really want me to?" He continues before she can answer, "Do you really want to know that you have your work not because you deserve it, but because somebody else got it for you?"
"I deserve it!"
He nods, and her anger deflates a bit at the sadness in his face. "Yes, you do, and what's happening to you it's not fair. But that doesn't change the fact that you'll feel like you owe it to me, if I interfere."
That is, unfortunately, true. They keep walking, each lost in their thoughts, until he speaks up again. "This might not be so bad for you. Personally, I've found change is good for personal growth."
She stops, surprised at his words and yes, more than a bit hurt.
"I get that we've barely known each other," JJ says when he stops too and maneuvers to turn around and face her, "and that our friendship is not as strong as the one I have with the rest of the team, but I thought you cared."
His face closes as soon as her words are out, and he looks away. She can tell that underneath he's angry, even if the most she's seen him show is slight annoyance. She expects for him to walk away, compose himself, but instead he squares his shoulders and faces her again. His eyes are fuming, and she has to stop the urge to take a step back, because somehow she can say that, while he's mad, it is not at her.
"It kills me when you call me Spence."
She chokes a laugh. "What?" Where the hell did that come from?
"There was somebody in my life, somebody I was very close to," his face softens while he explains. "My sister by choice, if you wish. She used to call me Spence."
And just like that, she realizes. She doesn't know about his early years, but other than the last months, Reid has spent all of his adult life as an undercover agent. Most of the people he shared his day-to-day didn't met the real him, and those that did he had to leave behind.
"Every time you call me that, it feels like I'm betraying her," he keeps saying, looking away again. "And I hate myself, because it wouldn't matter if I didn't care about you, if it were only a name. But I … I do care, JJ. I have something of an abandonment issue, and I know that you didn't choose to leave, but I can't help feeling like it is me you're leaving." He is obviously struggling to keep his emotions in check, and that makes her want to cry, because after Hotch, Reid is the most emotionally guarded person she has ever met.
"Then you're an idiot." He doesn't take her words the wrong way, maybe because she's giving him the strongest hug his injured knee and their height difference allow. They stay like that for a moment, until she feels him beginning to twitch. "So, a chance to grow," she says, trying to avoid further embarrassment.
"And to win your place back at the BAU, if you choose to." He's wearing a mischievous grin, so she has to grin back. Whatever plans he has, whether they work or not, she knows she'll keep in touch with this man, his family now.