Readers, reviewers: thank you so much for your continuing support. I was absolutely shocked when I realized this story had surpassed 200 reviews, and grown to over 30 chapters! I never thought I'd write more than 5 conversations, and certainly never imagined anyone would bother to leave a comment or follow along. Thank you all so much for your support and kind words, it's been overwhelmingly amazing.

Special mention to Annber03 who has been with the story from the very beginning, faithfully reviewing every chapter. Big ups!

Aaaaaaaaand now that all o' that has been said, onto this chapter's conversation! It seemed fitting in some way that this chapter would be from JJ's point of view, given that I started this whole thing with her.

As always, happy reading =)

"Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around." – Leo Buscaglia

I wring my hands together nervously and shift on my feet. It feels like hours since the nurses asked me to wait a few minutes for them to finish. Finish what exactly, I'm not sure. Changing bandages? Adjusting medications? Preparing her for a visitor? I have no way of knowing. Nervousness practically drips off of my body as my mind races with the possibilities. Suddenly, my mind changes gears and instead begins frantically asking questions. How is she? How bad is it? Is she okay? Will she be okay? Is she in a lot of pain? How did she handle being told? What do I say? What can I say? What does she need from me? Why did they agree to let me see her? How long before she leaves? How long will I have to keep this secret? Will I even be able to keep this secret?

My spiraling panic is momentarily halted by a nurse speaking softly.

"Miss? Excuse me, miss? She's ready for you."

I feel my own sharp intake of breath at her words, and lift my eyes up from the ground to meet her gaze. She offers a small smile of comfort and gestures for me to enter the room, but I can't seem to make my feet move. I know she needs to see a familiar face, probably now more than ever, but the instinct to instead run and hide flashes in my mind. I shake my head slightly at the notion, dismissing it from my thoughts.

"How is she?" I ask.

"Considering the last few days she's had, pretty good."

I can't help but grimace, knowing that she was told a couple days ago about the "death" of Emily Prentiss. Somehow, for reasons that are beyond my comprehension, it's harder to control my expressions today than it was on that fateful day in the hospital.

"So you know what happened then?" she asks, noting my change in expression.

I shake my head. "I know she was given some bad news, but that's it," I say carefully. I can't afford to give anything away – her life depends on it.

The nurse casts a glance to the closed door to her room. "Whatever they told her, it must have been something awful."

I feel my eyes widen slightly, and I swallow the lump that has formed in my throat.

"I've seen and heard a lot in my day, but... the despair that came out of her after they entered that room was something else. We had to step in and sedate her so she wouldn't worsen her injuries from all the movement. Those fellas were none too pleased with us barging in there, but there was no way I was going to let her go on like that. Don't think I've ever heard such pain and anguish before."

I feel tears prick the back of my eyes and I blink quickly to stop them from forming.

"Anyway," the nurse continues. "Hopefully your visit will buoy her spirits a bit. She's been terribly depressed since then. She just stares at the ceiling, and picks at her fingernails – or at least where her fingernails used to be, I'm not sure there's anything left there by now."

I swallow again, trying in vain to make the lump lodged in my throat disappear.

"Is she in a lot of pain?" I ask, fearing the answer.

The nurse shrugs. "Hard to tell because she won't say anything, but I'm guessing yes. Though, she strikes me as the type that wouldn't say anything even if she hadn't gotten that bad news. But you better get in there, the dosage of meds we gave her should knock her out completely in an hour or so."

"Thank you," I say. "Is she expecting me?"

The nurse shakes her head. "Nope, I didn't tell her. Go on in when you're ready, but remember, she's on some pretty heavy stuff, so she might be a bit out of it. And chances are she won't remember anything," the nurse finishes before turning and walking away.

Taking small steps toward the door, I take deep breaths to calm my speeding heart and mind. I try to not focus on the fact that I'm about to see one of my best friends for possibly the last time. Ever. I open the door, and focus all my attention on closing it behind me, not allowing myself to meet her eyes, but I can feel they are fixed on me.

"Hey," she says in a scratchy voice, her tone conveying both surprise and joy.

Still facing the door, I close my eyes to compose myself before I turn around. "Hey," I reply, hoping my voice doesn't betray my nervousness.

"What are you doing here?" she asks.

My eyes widen in surprise as I turn around to face her.

Her own eyes widen as she realizes what words tumbled out of her mouth and she begins speaking quickly to backtrack. "Oh god. No, Jayje, I didn't mean-" she stops abruptly, and winces in pain as she tries to get up.

"Hey, Em, c'mon, sit back." I say as I quickly step forward and gently support her. I watch as she squeezes her eyes shut, and continues wincing, emitting a grunt of pain as she leans back. She lifts a hand and places it gingerly on her stomach, directly over where the table leg impaled her. It takes her a minute to regain her composure, but when she does her eyes open and meet my gaze immediately.

"But I'm- I'm dead..." she says slowly, no doubt trying to explain her blunt question. I don't miss her taking short breaths after each word and squeezing the blanket tightly in her fist, no doubt trying to manage the pain now coursing through her body. Considering the warning from the nurse, I'm a little concerned with how much pain she's still in.

I offer a small smile, "Yeah, well someone had to sort out all that paperwork, didn't they?"

She smiles lazily, and for the first time I notice the glassiness of her eyes – likely an effect of the many medications she's on. There are still many tubes and wires hooked up to her, but she looks significantly better than the last time I saw her a couple weeks ago.

"How are you, Em?" I know it's a stupid question, but one I'm still compelled to ask, because I don't actually know the answer.

She shrugs, and winces again as the movement agitates the wound. "Pretty good for a dead girl, I guess."

I shake my head at her witty remark.

Her eyes narrow as she seems to scrutinize my expression. I should have known that even while on who knows how many medications she would see right through my mask of "everything-is-totally-okay".

"What is it?" she asks.

I shake my head, "Nothing. I'm just really glad to see you."

She smiles lazily again. "Bullshit, Jennifer. What aren't you telling me?"

I sigh. So much for keeping her spirits buoyed. "Doyle's vanished."

I'm surprised when she doesn't react.

"You won't find him," she says plainly, her tone even and cool.

"We will, Em. I promise you, we will."

"Don't make promises you can't keep. If he doesn't want to be found, he won't be."

"Em-"

"I know him. If he's gone off the grid, he's gone for good."

I shoot her a sad expression.

"It's okay," she says, trying to comfort me even though it is her I should be comforting. Typical Emily. "I figured he had disappeared when they told me I was dead to the world."

I shift my weight from one foot to the other in an effort to find something to say.

"Hey, JJ. It's okay. I signed up for this. I went after him. I knew this was a possibility."

"How are you so calm about it?"

She grins, "Well these drugs they've got me on help big time. Pretty sure they added a sedative after our esteemed colleagues paid me a visit and I lost it."

I smile nervously in response.

"I don't want to talk about him anymore," she says firmly.

"Okay," I agree. I'd said everything I needed to say about him anyway.

"How are they?" she asks, not needing to clarify who she is referring to.

I pause, not sure how to answer her question.

"Jayje, c'mon tell me. I'll have forgotten in an hour thanks to these meds anyway."

"Garcia is... distraught, as you can imagine. Rossi walks around like he's lost a daughter. Reid's struggling. Ashley has asked to be transferred, so that's that. Hotch is trying to manage everyone's grief, and his guilt. And Morgan... he's taken some time off and has gone to Chicago to visit his mom."

"Okay," she says. I'm taken aback by her short response, but one glance to her drooping eyelids says it all. The meds are taking effect.

"What about you?" she asks, the words slurring together slightly

"I'm here, staring at you, so I can't complain."

A silence falls over us, and I watch as her eyes drift close and her head settle further into the pillow. Her breathing becomes more rhythmic, and the wakeful tension of her body seems to dissipate. She's relaxed into sleep.

I stand up to leave and let her rest, but am startled by her voice.

"Don't go. Please." She struggles to lift her eyelids and reaches her hand out and gestures for me to sit on the chair next to her bed.

"Okay," I say as I sit once more. "I'll stay as long as you want."

She reaches out and grasps my hand with hers, her grip weak, but consistent. I'm surprised by the action – Emily Prentiss is not one to seek out affection or comfort. But then again, I guess for all intents and purposes, Emily Prentiss died in that warehouse. Still, the gesture sends a wave of guilt through me – it was me who had really made all of this happen. I know it's for her own good, but I can't help but feel guilty at putting her through all of this, and lying to the team and putting them through it all.

"Talk to me," she mumbles, the words becoming less coherent as the effect of the medications takes hold.

"About what?" I ask, at a loss for appropriate topics.

"Anything," she says quietly. "I need something to try to remember while I'm gone."

I swallow to banish the lump that had reappeared in my throat once more.

"Okay. Well little Henry is talking more and more these days."

"Yeah?" she replies, her eyes staying closed, but her hand still gripping mine as tightly as she can manage. I gently rub my thumb on her hand in an effort to soothe her, and let her know I'm still here.

"Yeah, he even throws in a few French words now and then, just to keep my on my toes. Thanks for that, by the way. I have to ask Will what the hell he's talking about, 'cause half the time I think he's regressed back to his nonsensical baby talk."

I hear a quiet half chuckle escape her lips, and feel a small squeeze from her hand. I give a small squeeze right back.

"He's taken a real liking to stargazing too. Won't let me or Will put him down to bed unless he gets to peek outside and see a star or the moon. I think we have you to thank for that as well, if his explanation is anything to go by. Apparently you told him a story about when you were younger and visited your-"

"Jayje?" She interrupts.

"Yeah?" I respond in a whisper as I lean forward so I can hear her quiet and slightly slurred speech.

"Are you coming back?"

I bite my lip and try to find a gentle way of answering.

"S'ok if you aren't. Just wanna know," she continues, her eyes staying firmly closed and her speech slowing down further as the medications take an even stronger hold on her. I can tell she's fighting them to stay awake and present in this moment.

"I- I don't know, Em. But if I can, I will."

"Mm kay," she murmurs in reply.

I feel her squeeze my hand, and I take that as my cue to continue talking. I tell her about Henry, and his rambunctious actions on the playground. I tell her about Will and his almost daily proposals. I tell her about how I'm not sure I can ever say yes to him, but how I know I can't live without him. She has long since fallen asleep, her hand's grip now loose, but I keep talking anyway. I keep talking because she asked me to stay, and I'll be damned if I let her be alone for a second longer than I have to. I know she has months, maybe even years' worth of loneliness ahead of her, so I stay. I stay longer than I planned, and I keep talking, and I keep a tight hold on her hand. I won't let go until I have to, and I won't leave until they make me.

I can't pinpoint why, exactly, but I'm particularly proud of this conversation. Be that as it may, I'd love to hear your feedback on it, if you have the time, that is.

I'm happy to report I have a couple more conversations nearly complete, and a bunch of ideas that are yet to be written. Of course, I'm always open to suggestions - in fact, I welcome them!

(P.S. To those who were slightly confused by the ending of the last conversation... The swing she suggests that Derek put up is in fact that same swing she and Tegan were sitting on in chapter 29.)