When I realized this story had surpassed 300 reviews, I took some time to go back and read them all. It gave me the warm and fuzzies. :) Major kudos for your continuing support. You are the best bunch of readers. Ever. Seriously.

And to celebrate another milestone - another JJ conversation. Also, you can thank Canadian Thanksgiving for this quick update. A very lazy long weekend (and lots of turkey) makes for a bit of a writing fest on my part.

Happy reading =)

"Time is a sort of river of passing events, and strong is its current; no sooner is a thing brought to sight than it is swept by and another takes its place, and this too will be swept away." - Marcus Aurelius

I find myself a little surprised that Declan is a bit clingy with Emily on the drive back to Quantico. From everything she's told us and everything we'd found out, it all points to her not having seen him in years. And truthfully the time she had spent with him while undercover was while he was pretty young. So exactly why this 12 year old would be so clingy with Emily – essentially a stranger to him, even if that stranger did save his life – is beyond me. Then again, he'd just lost the maternal figure in his life, and then his biological father, all while the actual father figure in his life is overseas and unavailable. So clinging to the only person he has a semblance of familiarity with might not be totally out of the ordinary.

It tugs at the heart strings as he leans into her body and hides his face in her shirt. She's tried a few times to talk to him, but his mouth has stayed firmly shut. He's lost and been through so much these past few days that it's not really surprising that he prefers to stay quiet, especially given that he's surrounded by strangers.

By the time we get to Quantico and settle into the roundtable room to file some paperwork, Declan's all but physically attached himself to Emily, hindering her efforts to have any meaningful conversations with the team. I can see she's torn between caring for Declan and trying to mend things with everyone she left behind. But knowing how she is with Henry, and knowing the great lengths she went to in order to protect Declan, I'm betting Declan is winning the battle surely waging in her heart.

"Declan?" she asks softly, trying once more to get his attention, which is otherwise engaged by something in his mind. "Hey. Dec." She pauses and looks at him with concern when he doesn't respond. A twinkle of some kind appears in her eyes as she leans close to him and murmurs in French. "Mon nounours? Tu vas bien?"

I frown slightly, not being familiar with much French, despite Will's best efforts at teaching me. Whatever she said it seems to break Declan's concentration as he blinks rapidly and turns his head to face her.

"Non, ça va mal. Ils sont mort," he replies quickly, clearly familiar with the French language. He wraps his arms around her tightly and buries his face into her shirt once more. She responds by rubbing one hand on his back soothingly while the other holds his head gently.

"Come on, Dec. Let's get you cleaned up," she murmurs and leads him toward the bathroom.

They return 20 minutes later, his hands and face clean of his father's blood. Emily wears a seemingly permanent expression of concern and worry. I can't help the smile from spreading on my face, despite the situation. I would bet a year's salary that woman is going to be a mother. She shoots me a questioning glance when she notices my smile. I shake my head gently and mouth "nothing" to her.

She sets about finishing some paperwork once she manages to pry herself from Declan's tight hold. He sits in a chair right next to her, his eyes wandering around the room. When his gaze meets mine, I shoot him a quick reassuring smile. I'm pleased to see he returns it with a slight smile of his own before shifting his gaze back to Emily. He'll be okay. After all, he's got Emily Prentiss fighting in his corner.

A few minutes later when Declan yawns widely, I check my watch and note the late hour. It occurs to me Emily's got nowhere to go, and no access to her finances. I frown for a moment – did she even have finances anymore? Was that one of the things I sorted out? I don't remember, but there had been so many forms. Regardless, knowing her I wouldn't be a bit surprised if she has somehow procured a suitcase full of cash, hidden away long ago for just this type of situation.

"Hey, Em?" I say gently, careful not to spook her or Declan.

"Yeah?" she says looking up from the form she had just about finished.

"You got somewhere to stay tonight?"

"I figured I'd check me and Declan into a hotel."

"Em, c'mon. Come stay with me."

"You've got Will and Henry, though Jayje."

I shake my head. "No, Will took Henry to visit his sister this week, so I've got an empty house."

She bites her lip for a moment. "I can't ask you to do that, Jayje. You've done enough for me," she says, a guilty expression settling onto her face.

"Emily, please. You're family."

"Okay," she concedes after glancing at Declan's exhausted expression.

"You ready to go?"

"Yeah. Let's go before this guy passes out on me."

They had stayed with me for a couple days before Emily's friend Tom had managed to fly back to the States. He'd taken Declan to get settled into a new house with the promise that Emily could see him as often as she wanted. Emily had countered that she'd leave it up to Declan how often he'd like to see her. Declan, at that point, had expressed that he had absolutely no qualms about seeing her.

When the suspension on the team was imposed Emily had checked into a hotel, refusing to abuse my hospitality any further, despite my vehement arguments she was doing nothing of the sort. When the suspension was eventually lifted, she'd worked tirelessly to complete the paperwork to get the most of her old life back that she could. When her bank accounts and identity had been restored, her death certificate rescinded, and all the possessions I'd managed to sneak away returned to her, she'd set out to sort out her living situation.

Her first few days back with the team proved to be difficult with Spence and Morgan steadfastly ignoring her. While Morgan gave me few issues, Spence took it upon himself to channel all his anger and other lingering feelings over her faked death onto me. I could see the guilt written all over Emily's face as she witnessed Spence acting out and arguing with me. I watched as she tried desperately to patch things up on the jet on the way home from the case, and saw the crestfallen expression on her face when he had failed to accept her apology.

When we land, I grab her arm to prevent her from getting up and leaving. "Come over and visit Henry tonight."

"Jayje, I'm pretty tired and-"

"Come and visit Henry, Em. He's been asking after his Auntie Em," I say, appealing to the soft spot she holds for my son.

"Only for a little while," she concedes. "But I'm gonna shower and change first.

Two hours later we're sitting on my couch, enjoying some tea and watching Henry play with some blocks on the other side of the room. Thankfully he's far enough away to not hear our somewhat hushed conversation.

"Listen, JJ-" she begins.

"No," I interrupt forcefully, knowing that tone all too well. "I'm not letting you apologize for something that's entirely out of your control."

"You and Spencer were so close before this mess. I've screwed that up for both of you," she says, guilt plain in her tone.

"Emily, please. It's not your fault. He's hurting, I get that. But he needs to grow up a bit and realize what we did was to save your life."

She looks somewhat surprised at my words. Truthfully, I'm a little surprised by them and probably wouldn't be saying them if Will hadn't drilled that thought home in the two hours I've been home from the case.

"I just-" she says before sighing. "I can't help but think it'd all be easier if I hadn't come back."

"Don't you dare say that, Emily. He was broken after you were taken from us. We all were. There's no way he'd be better off if you had died, or were still stuck in Paris, or wherever you were. None of us would be better off. Do you hear me?"

Her eyes had widened considerably during my response, and she nods quickly, letting me know she'd heard what I said. "Do you think he'll come around?" she asks.

"I hope so. I think maybe it'll just take some time."

"Yeah," she says sadly. "I guess so."

"How are you doing?"

"Fine."

I shoot her a look usually reserved for Henry when I know he's lying straight to my face about something.

"I'm...adjusting," she corrects, squirming slightly under my intense gaze. "I just wish I could fix things with Reid and Morgan. I want things to go back to how they were. Back when they still trusted me."

"It'll come," I reassure. "It's just going to take some time."

She nods sadly. "Yeah," she says, taking a small sip of her tea and focusing her attention on Henry as he laughs.

"How's Declan?" I ask, wondering how he'd been dealing with everything he had gone through.

She smiles. "He's good. Tom says being back at school has helped him settle back into a routine. They've started to deal with him losing Louise, but the issue of Ian is another one altogether."

I can't help the slight wince at her use of his given name. Guilt crosses her face at my reaction, but she continues her explanation, taking great care to use his surname instead.

"He knows that Doyle was a criminal and what kind of man he was. But the few memories he does have are all from when Doyle was just a father, and not a dangerous terrorist. Going swimming, playing soccer, wrestling in bed on Sunday mornings. That kind of stuff."

Her thoughtful expression triggers a sudden recall of the last ladies' night we'd had before she'd left for Boston. Garcia had asked whether she'd ever been in love, and she'd given a cryptic answer – one which, given her expression as she explained Declan's memories of Doyle, now makes perfect sense. On some level, she – or maybe it was Lauren – loved him.

"Whenever I see him he asks me about Doyle, but I never know what to tell him," she continues, seemingly oblivious to my epiphany.

"What does he ask?"

"He wants to know what he was like. And I don't know what to say."

"What's your gut telling you?"

"That he should hear that his father loved him," she answers more quickly than I thought she would. "Despite who he was as a man and his plans for Declan's future, he loved him dearly. There were times...just small moments where it wasn't hard to see past everything else and see the loving, doting father he was," she finishes, a thoughtful expression settling onto her face.

"What does Tom think you should tell him?"

"We haven't actually discussed it," she admits.

"Em..."

"Yeah, I know. It's on my to-do list. I just..."

"You're worried Tom will say he doesn't want Declan knowing, and that'll lead to resentment of you?"

"Yeah."

"Do you really think Tom would say that?" I ask, having a hard time believing that she, of all people, would remain close friends with someone who would discount her opinion so rashly.

"No... but I don't really know what to think anymore. Me being away – it's changed everything."

"Talk to Tom. I'm confident you two will figure out what Declan should hear."

She offers a small smile. "Thanks, Jayje."

There's a loud crash and a squeal of glee as Henry stands, surrounded by the blocks that had previously been erected in a tall tower. We share a look and shake our heads as Henry's infectious laughter spreads to us. Thanks to Will's pep talk when I'd gotten home, and her laughter, a feeling of peace washes over me. There would be bumps in the road, that's for sure, and things were far from sorted, but they'd be okay. We'd be okay. It was just going to take a bit of time.

A couple translation notes:

Mon nounours = my teddy bear (but it's really just a pet name)
Tu vas bien? = Are you okay?
Non, ça va mal. Ils sont mort. = No, I'm not doing so well. They're dead.

As always, if you have any feedback/thoughts, I'd love to read it!