Author's Note: It has been literally years. In all honesty, I think I started this fic as a way to try and cope with all the years of trauma I'd been through, and didn't know where to go with it when I hadn't worked on my healing myself. I am back.

I also have a General Writing Prompts forum under the general section. The link is on my profile. It would be the WORLD to me if you checked it out, and maybe posted. There are ways to get reviews in there and get attention for your fics.

The night out had been okay, at least until she saw a man wearing a similar jacket to one of the men who had assaulted her. The men had still not been caught. That sat with JJ, a lot. Apparently, they had been targeting women of power and her being an FBI agent had fit their profile. It made her feel sick. It was weird going home to an empty house. The loudness of the bar still echoed in her head as she threw her keys down on the counter. Henry was with Will, and she was alone.

Her hands trailed over some of her scars as she undressed. She shuddered a bit. It was so strange. She had often tried to put herself into the shoes of the victims she'd interviewed, but she had no idea how bad it was. She had no idea how much they had been enduring. Her heart had always gone out to them, but now she knew...

She sat down on the bed, and put her head in her hands. If it hadn't been for her fear for Henry, she would have struggled and screamed and done whatever she needed to get away. Even with that knowledge, she still felt ashamed. For being still, quiet and the words they'd made her say.

She picked up the journal off her dresser, the one that Dr. Kyte insisted she write out exercises in. What was the point? Was there a point? This was so frustrating, but JJ wanted to get back to her job. She needed to get back to her job. She was a middle aged woman, and also an FBI Agent, and here she was writing out feelings exercises?

With a little alcoholic courage, she took out her pen and began scribbling something down.

I feel confused. No, more than that. I feel lost. It's so hard to feel anything but numbness. It doesn't feel real. None of it feels real. I feel like I'm in a dream, no a nightmare. I feel like my body is no longer my own. I keep trying to be strong, and pushing down the feelings that surface. It's 12 am and I am scared to sleep because my dreams aren't anymore safe than being awake. They haunt my dreams. They haunt my thoughts. I can't get dressed without seeing the marks and having visions of how they were caused. I can't sleep in my own bed without waking up in a pool of sweat, sometimes crying. I can't walk in public without feeling like they're watching me. Like they're spying on me. I can't smile, or laugh. I feel weighed down.

I am numb. I am lost. I think they've broken me.

"This is a wonderful start," Dr Kyte said, pushing her glasses back up as they began to fall down her nose.

"It is?" JJ asked curiously.

"You are acknowledging your feelings, and what you are going through. You are starting to break out of denial."

"But I'm not feeling anything," JJ pointed out.

"That's just the start. Your brain does what it can to protect you, so it numbs out the feelings. The numbness is the first step, and acknowledging that numbness is step in the right direction."

"I see," JJ said leaning back into the couch. "What's the next step?"

"Healing is different for every person. There's no rule book, or one way to heal. My advice to you would be to find closure. To admit what happened to you."

"I know what happened to me," JJ said, feeling slightly defensive. "I was there."

"You do know. On some level. But you are, numb as you said. You need to admit what happened to you. And you need to accept and feel it."

"How do I find closure when they haven't even been caught?" JJ began shaking her leg, feeling an incredible amount of anxious energy with nowhere to release it.

"Healing from trauma is similar to going through the five stages of grief. Denial. Anger. Bargaining. Depression. Acceptance. Except, trauma is not linear. You'll take steps forward, and steps back. You'll go through the stages in a different order sometimes, or repeat parts of it."

JJ sighed, feeling discouraged.

"It's worth it," Dr. Kyte said gently. "Healing is worth it. I know it sounds like a lot. I know that it's not fair. It's not fair at all. They did this to you and left you to pick up the pieces. It's not okay, and it's okay to admit that. It's not fair and you are allowed to be angry."

She did feel it. A little bit. Anger. It was there sometimes, buried beneath the shield of nothingness. JJ caught sight of the clock. Ten minutes to go. It was close enough. She got to her feet.

"For what it's worth, I believe you can do this."

"Thank you," JJ said forcing down the emotions that bubbled beneath the surface.

*Home Sweet Home*

Did she even know what she was talking about? Dr. Kyte liked to throw a lot of words and information at her, but did she really know? JJ too had been sympathetic, offering comfort to those that had gone through ordeals like hers. But she didn't know. She had never known. Was Dr. Kyte similar? Offering sympathies and comfort but having no idea of what she's actually talking about other than what she's read through books?

Dr. Kyte didn't know she broke down sometimes. Was that a sign of being numb? It seemed doubtful. A part of what Dr. Kyte said sounded right though. She'd break down for a few minutes at a time, and then feel nothing. Admit what happened? She knew what happened. She re-lived what happened, over and over again. But did she feel it?

JJ stood in front of the bathroom mirror and looked at her face. She could hardly recognize the person in the mirror. She had the same striking blue eyes she'd always had, but they were vacant. Empty. It was as if a different person was staring back. Her beautiful blonde hair was there, but it looked off. Like it had no been properly cared for lately. And her skin...

That wouldn't do. JJ reached for the moisturizer and began applying it to her face. Were her hands shaking?

It helped some, but nothing could fix the emptiness.

"I was r-"

Not quite, she couldn't get the words out. Why was it so hard? She hadn't tried to say it before. Her heart felt caught in her throat. It's a word. Just a word. Why can't you say the word?

"I was hurt," she said hesitantly. No, that wasn't it and she knew it. Come on, JJ. Prove that doctor wrong.

"I was raped."

Just a sentence, right? For a fraction of a sentence, that appeared true and then she felt it. Her chest felt like it was caving in and her legs felt like jello. Shaky breaths, shaky hands and cold sweat. Panic.

Her legs couldn't hold her and she was on the floor. Dry sobs. Hypervenilating. They were just words, right? But as the tears followed close behind, she felt it. She had ignored it for so long, but she had been raped.

Denial. Huh. Maybe the doctor had been onto something after all...