(Hello lovelies! Here is Chapter 11! The first part of the chapter is discussing the case they're working on, and it gets quite graphic. If this is triggering to you, please skip down to the line and treat yourself to the JJ/Emily fluff. I hope you enjoy, and I hope everyone is having a warm and happy holiday season. Please review and tell me what you think!

"And one by one the nights between our separated cities are joined to the night that unites us." Pablo Neruda

Emily

Three days have passed, and I feel like beating my head against the wall. This particular unsub is extremely clever, always two steps ahead of us. Another family had been murdered last night. Morgan and I picked our way through the living room, doing our best not to disturb the crime scene.

The father, Kent Gabriel, was sprawled across the rug. His hands were outreached, stretching to fight off the intruder even in his moment of death. There is a single bullet hole on the back of his head, congealed blood puddling around the body.

"So what do we know?" I ask my partner.

"Not much, unfortunately. Mr. Gabriel was a basketball coach and a teacher at the local high school. His wife, Renee, worked as the day manager at a rental car place. Like the previous families, they had two sons: Peyton, eight, and Easton, five. We think that, following the pattern of the previous murders, Kent was killed first, while the rest of the family was made to watch. Then he relocated the remainder of the family upstairs to the kids' bathroom."

I follow him up the stairs, noting the family pictures on the walls that have been disturbed. We step into the small, tiled room. "Once in here someone, we suspect Mrs. Gabriel acting under duress, repeatedly submerged both boys' heads underwater. Then he moved the three of them into the kids' room." I begin to move after him but find that I can't tear my eyes away from the bathtub, still filled with cold, gray water. Her pink and red loofa looks inappropriate hanging from the water spout. A bottle of Spiderman bubble bath had been knocked into the water at some point during the struggle, and it remained there, floating face down. This had been a happy home, a safe place. Renee Gabriel had probably bathed her boys in that tub thousands of times. But someone had turned this room into the vestibule of a nightmare.

"Prentiss, you alright?" I glance over mys shoulder to see Derek peering at me from the doorway.

"This… I don't know. It's just a lot."

He nods. "I know. Do you need to step outside?"

I take a deep breath, pressing the back of my hand to my forehead in an effort to steady myself. "No, I'm fine."

"Are you sure? Cause we both know the next room is only worse." His voice is gentle.

"I'm sure. I'm alright." He nods and this time I do follow him out of the bathroom and down the hall. Peyton Gabriel is laid out on his bed, arms crossed over his chest. You could almost think he's sleeping, if it wasn't for the angry bullet hole in his forehead. His younger brother mirrors the same position on the bed under the window. Mrs Gabriel is lying in the middle of the floor, amidst various toys and books. Her clothes are pushed up and her legs are arranged at odd angles. Hand shaped bruises are already forming on her neck.

"Raped and strangled. Just like the two other mothers." I state, forcing my voice to remain level.

Derek nods. "One thing's for certain. This son of a bitch had got a lot of anger, and it's all being directed towards the mother."

"Probably his own, or maybe the mother of this children. She's the focus the entire time."

"So he sneaks in, catches them off the guard, gathers them all in the living room. He shoots the father, the biggest threat, to get more control. He's completely unimportant. Disposable even."

"Did you notice the pictures on the staircase?" I ask.

"Yeah. Do you think it was just something that happened in the chaos of forcing Mrs. Gabriel and the children upstairs or do you think it was deliberate?"

"Could be either, I'd have to examine them more thoroughly in order to guess. If it's on purpose it could speak to a rage about families presenting a certain image to the world. Or covering up indiscretions."

He takes a step toward where Easton lies on the bed. "I don't understand the drowning though. If his mother is the target of his rage, is the unsub reenacting abuse he suffered at her hands?"

I can't help the deep sigh that comes. "Very possibly. People can be very creative when it comes to ways to 'discipline' a child. Sometimes it can be linked to religious reasons, trying to cleans the child of sins. Or it can be just out of cruelty. When I was brand new to the Bureau, just a few years out of Yale, I traveled with the agent I was shadowing to Racine, Wisconsin. A woman had been caring for her boyfriend's child from a previous relationship when she and the girl's mother got in a fight. She retaliated by dunking the little girl in scalding hot water. She suffered second degree burns to her feet and first degree burns to her legs." I let out another deep breath, remembering her terrified cries like it was yesterday. "She ended up dying due to infection."

"How old was she?"

"Just two."

Morgan rests a hand on my shoulder. "Let's head back to the station, okay? See if they have any news."

I nod then shake my hair away from my face. "Yeah. Sure, sounds like a plan."

That night, safe in my hotel room, I call JJ. I know that it's late there, and that I'll probably wake her up, but I need to hear her voice. I need to know that she's okay. She doesn't pick up until the fourth ring."

"Jareau." Just hearing her voice, thick with sleep and low with annoyance at being woken up, brings a smile to my face.

"Hey baby." I say quietly.

"Em!" I can hear her struggling to sit up, then turn on the lamp beside the bed. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah! Yeah, everything is fine, I just needed to hear your voice. I'm sorry for waking you up."

"No don't-" she interrupts herself with a huge yawn. "Don't be. I'm always happy to talk to you, no matter the time of day. And I should probably get used to being woken up at ungodly hours of the night, I guess."

"What time is it?"

"Ten till three."

I groan. "I'm so sorry I shouldn't have called."

"It's fine, I mean it. How's the case going?" I pause for a moment, searching for the right words. "You don't have to censor it, Em. I can handle it."

"It's bad, Jayje. The son of a bitch is sadistic and we really don't have any leads. Another family was killed last night."

"Oh God. Kids?"

"Yeah. Two little boys."

I can hear her sigh. "I'm sorry, Em. That's rough. Are you holding up?"

"Yeah I'll get through. I just don't like feeling so helpless, y'know? And I miss you. I'm sorry that I missed the appointment with Karen today. How did it go?"

"Good! Good. Six weeks out. She said I'm a little more effaced than last week, but not enough to be concerned. Everything is okay."

"Oh good. Oh baby, I'm so glad to hear that. I hate to be so far away, especially when we're coming into the last few weeks."

"Em, we're still a good month and a half away from the baby coming. Don't worry. And I had Pen with me, she was so excited she could barely contain herself. She even tried to bribe Karen into telling her the gender so that she could go shopping."

I chuckle, "Well that sounds like Garcia all right. Did she succeed?"

"Nope, Karen held out. I think she called her a tricky sphinx."

"Good woman." I sit in silence for a few moments, simply treasuring the soft sounds of her breathing. "Do you ever wish we would have found out the gender?"

"Hmm? No. I think it's better this way. It'll make the birth that much more special."

"But it would have made preparing for the baby a lot easier."

"Maybe. Can I tell you a secret?"

"Of course. Is it that you think the baby's a boy?"

She laughs. "How did you know?"

"Just another con of being married to a profiler. I know you a lot better than you think."

"Oh is that so?"

"It is." I pull the blanket closer to me, wishing I was holding JJ in my arms. "Like for instance, I know that right now you're running your hands through your hair."

"Okay, lucky guess."

I throw back my head with a loud laugh. "Okay, well here's another guess: You're wearing my Yale tee shirt and your… pink Nike shorts."

"What? How in the hell do you know that?"

"Anytime I come home from being away, I always find my Yale shirt on the bathroom floor, where you throw your pajamas before you get in the shower. It smells like me, and it helps you feel less lonely while I'm away. That's why I never pack it in my go bag."

"Well damn… Okay, what about the shorts?"

"That's more of an educated guess. Your normal sleep shorts don't fit right under your belly so you've started wearing your running shorts to bed. Last time I saw you, you were wearing the light blue ones, so I figured it was either the pink or the orange."

"Well good job."

"Thank you." I smile cheekily, even though she can't see me."

"Don't think you can't also be profiled, though."

"Oh, I would love to hear your thoughts."

"Alright. Well… You're wearing socks, because I'm not there for you to put your freezing cold feet on."

"Correct."

"And you're tucked in on the left side of the bed."

"Why would you say that? I sleep on the right side at home."

"You sleep on the right side because I sleep on the left. For the first couple of moths that we shared a bed, I would wake up and you would be on top of me, also on the left side."

"What no I didn't!" I protest.

"Oh you most certainly did. And I offered to sleep on the right side but you insisted that it was fine and you didn't care. So when you're sleeping alone, you revert back to the left side of the mattress."

"Well done." I hear her yawn again. "You need go to sleep, I'm going to let you go."

"No it's fine! I want to keep talking."

But I can hear the exhaustion in her voice. "No baby, get some rest. I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay. I love you. And it's going to be okay, alright? You're going to catch this guy. And then you'll get to come home."

"I know, I know, I just… I know. It's gonna be okay. I love you too, Jayje. Goodnight."

"Night, Em." I return my phone to the nightstand and try to arrange my pillow into a more comfortable shape. The next day will be here before I know it, and I'm going to need every bit of rest I can get.