She isn't responding, her body isn't responding to the repeated efforts of the code team. More medication is being pumped into her frail body but I wonder if it is all in vain. The distinctive gold glow I see is becoming brighter and more prominent; that life is slipping away.

I hear the medical team speaking to one another, but cannot comprehend what is being said. The nurses are working in tandem, knowing exactly what to do, how to do and when to do. There is a doctor present as well, but the nurses seem to be running the show. And in the corner of the room, on Christmas night stands Hotch. Quite, out of the way, and I hear a silent plea a prayer- not to take JJ.

"Mike." I know the voice, Jim is back. "Mike, take her now." He whispers and touches my shoulder, pushing me towards the chaos.

I act and do not think, I reach into the gold glow and find a warm hand, and pull. The last sounds I hear are the nurses announcing that JJ has lost her heart beat.

When I open my eyes again, there is nothing but peace. No hospital, no crying, just peace and standing next to me is JJ. She looks just like she did in her picture, she looks healthy. There is no blood on her, nothing is hurt or broken, there are no tubes. She is, in every sense of the word, free.

"JJ?" I whisper, seeing her blue eyes taking in the new environment. "JJ, it's okay." For so long I was afraid of what to say, now it's almost natural. "You're safe here, you're safe now." I promise.

"Am I..?" She starts and I know exactly what she wants to ask.

I shake my head, reassuring her. "No, not yet. This is a sort of limbo. I can't choose for you JJ, if you get to live or die, you get that choice now."

She nods, and I am shocked at her brutal honesty. "How long do I get to decide?"

"As long as you need. However, your physical condition is deteriorating quickly. You are not breathing on your own, and have slipped into a coma. You are septic and should you survive there is a long list of potential complications from your injuries." I have to be honest with her. Deep down I know she will choose to go back, but I have to be fair and warn her that life will never be the same for her.

She licks her lips. "Will I be living, or just existing?" She cannot see herself now, cannot see her body or any of the action going on in her ICU room; I however, still can.

"The doctor is worried," I explain, "Your team and family are worried, and right now, you do not have great chances. They are debating on taking you for emergency surgery to relieve the pressure off your brain."

She looks around, at the crystal blue water, the sound of the waves crashing against the beach, it's peaceful for her and I see it in her eyes…

She is tired of fighting; she is considering giving up on life. And I make my decision, I refuse to let her.