Chapter 09
Logan School Condos
Apt #13
Washington DC
Monday, August 29, 2005
JJ
Later JJ would wonder how she managed to survive that week.
She spent all of it at Spencer's, sleeping in his guest room when she slept, watching the news in his living room, letting him and Penelope feed her to his heart's content. The classes she had taken allowed her to push Will's emotions off enough so that they didn't become confused with her own, but that wasn't as much help as she thought. It was like she was right beside him, not feeling his pain but witnessing it firsthand.
His city was falling apart.
His city was falling apart, with the apocalypse drawing ever nearer. But he bore his fears with strength and grace. Somehow JJ could sense that she was the only one who knew how concerned he was, how worried, how scared. And only she knew how those emotions intensified over the two days, until he was near to bursting with them.
Monday morning, between midnight and dawn, they finally came rushing out. She woke to the sound of a voice she'd only heard over the phone. That stupid son of a...
She could hear him. She could hear his thoughts, carried on a wave of fear and frustration. Emotions so strong they were powering the transmitters in his head to the point where they could carry his thoughts. She felt those emotions, let them seep into her, until she thought she could power them too. Will?
That you chère?
Yea.
Didn't know we could do this.
Neither did I. What's wrong?
My daddy didn't leave!
What?
He didn't evacuate! He's still at home! I told him to get the hell out of town but he didn't leave!
JJ had spoken to Will on Saturday, and again last night. She knew the plan was for him, his partner and some other officers to shelter in a home in the French Quarter, their district. They said the home had walls of stone two feet thick, steel hurricane shutters, and was on the highest ground in the city. They could work until the last minute, hole up through the storm, then go right back to work as soon as it passed. But now that plan might have changed. She turned on the news to find that the storm was making landfall. Is he safe there? Is he in the quarter with you?
No!
Can you get to him?
I don't know!
Damn it! She not only felt his worry, his fear, but she heard him on the phone. "Are you listening to me Pop? Grab your wallet and get out of there, the last busses are filling up!"
"Dad, forget the dammed case!"
"People are going to be drowning in their homes! The levees aren't going to hold! The whole parish is going to be underwater!"
"Screw the letter! They opened up the Superdome, I want you to meet me there!"
"Come on, please, I'm begging you Pop!"
"Pop?"
"Pop!"
JJ couldn't stop the scream from her throat as Will's panic filled her. It overwhelmed everything. He panicked and flew through the storm, flew and flew and...and...
When she could think again, could breathe again, she found herself sitting on the bed, rocking, whimpering. Spencer had her in his arms and was rocking her. "His father. Will's father."
"Shhhh." Spencer replied.
"He can't get to him. There's flooding."
"I know."
"It's like he's gone numb or something."
"That's shock."
"Will..." She couldn't help it, she broke down sobbing. But she could still think, could still feel. Will?
I'm going back to the safe house. Grief filled him. There was nothing left now. Not even fear.
Will...
Just don't let go, chère. Please don't let go.
BAU Headquarters
Quantico, VA
Monday, September 12, 2005
Somehow they survived the storm.
After that night all JJ felt from him was grief, bottomless wells and pools of grief. Not only for his father, for his family, but for the city that was part of his blood. But he carried on, holding it in with a dogged determination, a mix of stubbornness and bravery and exhaustion that would not let go.
Once the worst was over JJ went back to work, but there was no way in hell she was going back out in the field. Her head was not in the game, not enough to go head to head against an Unsub. And Spencer wanted to stick close, to be there in case as he was the only other one who truly understood. Hotch decided to stand the team down, give them time to catch up on paperwork and interviews, and the other non-time-dependent aspects of the job that always seemed to get behind. For that she was immensely grateful.
All that day JJ felt Will's exhaustion and frustration, perhaps more than ever before. But it wasn't until late afternoon that she knew why. Around 3pm Anderson tapped on her door. "Agent Jareau." He said. "Uhhh...you have a visitor."
A visitor? Likely some police officer here to plead for the BAU to take his case personally. She got up, headed for the elevator lobby, and stopped.
His boots were a mess, thickly coated in muck and grime. His pants had been soaked in some kind of oily mess up to his groin. His shirt once read "New Orleans Police", but it was hard to make out through all the salt from all the sweat stains that encrusted it. He had bandages on his forearms, and perhaps blisters and they were all filthy. But his eyes were the worst. They had the faraway look of too much in too little time. "My CO sent us out on leave. First break we've had. Got to report back on Sunday." He said with that thick, sweet accent. "We went straight to the airport. My partner flew to Austin to check on his family. He got the last seat on the plane. I didn't have any other place to go." His eyes finally focused on hers. "I can't believe you're real."
"I'm real." He was so tired. And that grief was just waiting to burst through. But he was a good man, she knew that, one who loved fiercely and deeply, and would never give up on anything. And the first thing he did was come to her.
She couldn't help it. At that moment JJ fell deeply in love.
"Come on, let's get home." She said. But she lived in a studio, where was she going to put him?
It wasn't empathy or telepathy; it was an almost preternatural ability to read body language and a generous heart that had Spencer Reid appearing in the corner of vision. "JJ." He said gently, and when she looked he tossed his spare keys at her.
"Thank you Spence." She said with a smile. "Going to head out at six?"
"Yeah. See you then." He smiled at Will, who looked like he was still catching up, and faded off again so as not to disturb.
"Come on. I just need to grab my go bag." JJ said, taking Will's arm, or trying to. But he pulled away. "What's wrong?"
"You don't want to do that, chère." He said.
"Why not?"
He thought a moment. "What is today?"
"September 12th."
"Last time I had a shower it was August." He looked back at Spencer. "That your partner?"
"Yeah. His place is a lot bigger than mine; we're in his guest room."
"All right. We?"
"Come on."
Logan School Condos
Apt #13
Washington DC
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
Will
Will LaMontagine Jr. woke to a miracle.
He didn't remember much of what had happened since the storm hit. He remembered boats, and getting people out of houses, and looters everywhere who could not be stopped. He remembered chaos and heat and the stink of the city rotting and of the convention center and of the Superdome. He remembered it all in chunks and flashes but he couldn't string it all together into a straight line narrative. That simply wasn't in him. And he surely did not remember how he got here, or even where here was.
Here was a bed in a loft of some kind. Brick on some walls, others a cool grey. There was early morning sun coming in the windows, but the temperature spoke of functioning electricity and air conditioning. The bed was comfortable and clean, and he was too somehow. He dimly remembered a long hot shower and falling into bed, but it was real cloudy.
It took him that long to realize he was not alone in that bed.
He turned his head and studied the blond angel lying on the other side of it. Yes, she was something to look at. But more than that she was strong, the kind of strong that never let go, even through all that horror. For so much of that she was the only thing that kept him running, knowing that no matter what he was not alone, and somewhere there was something clean and good waiting for him.
Because everything that had been good in the world was gone.
It hit him then, after weeks of holding it in. It was all gone. His family, his city, his whole world was gone. Drowned in the waters, rotting away. Gone. Gone.
Maybe it was the grief, unstoppable at last, welling up, that woke her. "Hey." She said.
He wanted to smile, wanted to kiss her, wanted to say so many things. But everything within him was coming out, could not be stopped. "It's all gone." He said.
And then she held him while he cried.
.
Note: Some dialogue taken from 02x18 "Jones". Specifically the cold opening flashback. No copyright infringement intended.