The electricity in the air envelops my nerves, suffocating and fraying every fiber that's keeping my body connected to its lifeline. My eyes flutter around the tears that are threatening to fall, my heart quaking as I take in the team. The energy shifts and cracks and, for a split second, I want the fault beneath my feet to open and swallow me. I want more than anything to take their pain away, to tell them what they need to hear. The look in their eyes shatters me and I don't think I will ever come back from what's about to come out of my mouth.
"She never made it off the table," the words stick in my throat, collecting around the knot that's been growing and expanding with each friends' tear-stained glances.
Spencer's words open a floodgate which reverberates through us, and the way his body and face collapse simultaneously make me want to swallow the words back down. Spencer's hands shake against my back as Hotch looks at me through the glass.
My gaze shifts down, eyes raw and reddening with shame; my heart pounds my ribs, wholly aware of how unworthy of this embrace I am.
The door shuts with a resounding click and Hotch's words do nothing to balm this pain. His words are hushed and soft and kind; but, God—oh, God, I hate him for these orders. I push the words that want to spill from mouth down with the rest of that knot, knees wobbling as I turn on my heels. The room spins with a nauseating momentum as I tumble toward a wall and slip down, willing the sounds of my friends' sobs out of my head.
My quiet, muted sobs dissipate as I berate and bargain with myself to pull it together. Angrily, almost painfully, I push the hair from my face and plant my shaking feet hard against the floor. My chest shudders and rattles as a blow out a breath and move shakily toward the recovery floor.
The elevator ding shocks my system from its dissociation long enough for me to see doctors speaking in hushed tones outside her door. There are a few agents standing guard who stand resolute at their posts.
A doctor with a kind, tired face notices me approaching and steps forward, "she's stable and awake but she's struggling emotionally. When she came to for us, she cried. We have her on oxygen and that seems to be helping, paired with pain and anxiety medication," his words are precise but caring as he steps aside and allows me to open the door.
I allow myself one more shuddering breath before squaring my shoulders, the cold metal handle of the door sending a shiver down my arms. I push gently and quietly, relief flooding my nervous system as a vision of dark hair floods my teary sight.
"Hey, you," I whisper and smile softly, watching as she turns her head stiffly toward me. Her bangs are plastered to her forehead and there's still sticky residue on her eyelashes from surgery. The sight threatens to break my shell as and I fight the impulse to brush my thumb against her cheek. I haven't made it far into the room yet before a tear slips from the corner of her eye and her throat bobs heavily.
"JJ?" Her voice rasps painfully and her face twitches uncomfortably when the tears slip under the cannula, tickling down her cheek. Her nose twitches as mucus drips to her top lip, a red tint shining in the harsh lighting.
I'm quick to grab tissues from the connecting bathroom before closing the distance between us. Her hand shakes with effort as she tries to lift it to her nose.
"I'm here, Em," her face falls deeper with my words as she nods and closes her eyes. The motion forces new tears to swell and flood and she sighs when she feels me catch them with a soft brush of the tissue. My fingers work to brush the hair from her forehead as my other hand wipes her nose with more care than I ever thought I was capable of. My lips quiver as I pull the pink soaked paper from her face. I feel her lean into me and I sigh in relief that I'm not hurting her. The urge to see her beautiful, deep eyes overwhelms me and my whispered words startle both of us, "I'll be right back."
"Where?" She manages with a grimace, her attempt to speak rattling her abdomen. A shaky hand grips the bed sheet tight and I can't help the tear that falls down my own cheek.
"You're in pain and we need the doctor," I press a kiss into her forehead and I feel her skin scrunch beneath my lips. She nods and groans before I make my way to the door.
I squint at the light reflecting from the floor tiles before shutting the door gently and waving for a nurse, "she's in a lot of pain and she's caked in blood."
It comes out harsher than I mean it to. It's not the nurses' faults. It's not the doctor's fault. But I can't help the way my jaw tightens at seeing her like that.
The nurse looks at the clock and walks to the chart clipped to the outside of Emily's room to check medication times, "let me call the doctor and I'll get you some washcloths." Her voice is soft, motherly. My lips quiver again and she pulls me into a hug I didn't know I needed.
When the nurse whispers into my ear, "she's a strong one," the levy breaks and she runs her hands up and down my back. She pulls away to make the phone call and find cloths; I mouth a thank you around a smile before I slip back into the room.
There's a sheen of sweat coating Emily's hairline and neck now, "I don't feel well, JJ."
"We're getting you help, ok?" It comes out thickly as I try to hold myself together.
Her hand slips into mine and holds tight as she shivers, nodding as best as she can.
There's a gentle knock on the door before the doctor and nurse enter. The nurse is holding a stack of cloths and a small tub. The doctor's face gives him away and he doesn't like what he sees. He shakes his head as he asks for a thermometer. He whispers a thank you when the nurse hands it to him.
A gentle beeping sounds through the room as he runs it across Emily's forehead and sighs in relief when it comes back normal, "no fever."
"That's good?" I ask softly.
"Yes," the doctor nods, "no fever means no infection. We'll dose some more morphine and check the injury site."
Emily gasps and shakes her head quickly, "please don't touch it. Please." Her face scrunches, tears welling.
"I'm here, baby. I'm right here," the word slips so easily and my jaw stutters at the admission. The nurse hides her smirk behind the stack of cloths she's still holding.
Emily is so out of it with sudden fear, though, that I'm not sure if it registers and the doctor clears his throat, "I'm going to administer this dose and stay right here with you. When it starts working, I will lift your gown and visually check. I will not touch you without permission, ok, Emily? Does that sound ok?"
Emily breathes out unevenly and nods, her grip tightening around my fingers. The room bustles with activity as the nurse sets the supplies down and the doctor expertly works at the IV. True to his word, he stays and makes himself busy at the monitor.
It doesn't take long before her grip loosens and her eyelids droop in relief.
"You ok?" I whisper as I run my thumb across a messy eyebrow, smoothing it down.
She, even with the residue in her lashes and her blood-caked nose, cracks a half-smile, "baby?"
My face falls and the heat spreads to my toes.
Relief floods my nerves when the doctor proposes lifting her gown to check. The attention is no longer on me and I'm not complaining.
When the doctor asks to lift her gown, Emily nods but her jaw clenches. Her big, beautiful eyes land on me with more coherence than they have all evening. Her limbs erupt in goosebumps, flinching as the air hits her skin. Her bravery is staggering as she focuses on me, drinking me in.
The sides of her mouth quiver as she feels the bandage being lifted, wincing at the feeling of fingers on her bruised skin.
"Your stitches look good, there's no sign of infection, and the leaking fluid is clear," the doctor nods contentedly, "I'm going to put a new bandage on and then we need your nurse to come manage your catheter and bag."
Emily visibly retreats into her mind like I've seen so many times. She disappears into a place only she knows. Guilt riddles me as I remember accusing her of not being phased by the darkness. She doesn't have the strength to shield her face, doesn't have the mental capacity to reach that haven, and her breathing becomes unsteady. Her heart monitor shows an increased heart rate as her chest rattles with a sob.
"Em, do you want me to leave the room?" My question is soft, genuine. I know she's embarrassed and it breaks my heart. I'm not expecting her grip on me to get tighter. I was expecting her to withdraw; and I realize she's letting me in.
Her response comes around a choked sob, "no, please don't leave me."
I wet my chapped lips and pressed them against her forehead as I nod. My hand gently cups her chin as I bring her face toward me, fingers stroking the sticky skin there as the nurse thoroughly takes care of her hygiene needs. She was quiet when the nurse entered and hasn't spoken save for a few one-word responses and nods directed at the nurse. Emily sighs and I feel her throat swallow when the nurse adjusts her blankets and moves toward the door.
"I'm gonna get some washcloths," I mumble against her.
When I reach the bathroom and catch myself in the mirror, I grimace at the redness in my eyes. They're bloodshot and sunken. I sigh as I turn the faucet to warm and let the water trickle through my fingers. A puddle forms and I hum as the warmth meets my face, rubbing my eyes gently and cleansing the dry tears from my cheeks. The washcloth doesn't feel very soft as I pat myself dry, but it'll have to do.
I watch as the water splashes into the small tub I put under the stream, breathing in and out as it ripples. A calmness comes over me, finally, as I turn the faucet and make my way back.
"Feel better?" The familiar husk in her voice more pronounced, very welcomed.
"I do," I smile as a set the tub down and pull up a chair. I dampen a cloth and wring it out before gently brushing her bangs back, soaking the stubborn hairs that won't unstick. Her nose scrunches and her eyelids flutter closed as I my fingertips trace the dark purple under her eyes.
"That tickles," her admission makes my heart jump.
"You have eye boogers." I deflect as I collect more water in the cloth and moisten the residue in her beautiful lashes.
"I probably have some in my nose, too. You gonna get those?" My lips twitch upward.
"Of course," it comes out more of an admission than I meant it to.
She sighs in relief, relief neither of us were expecting, when I wipe the crusted blood from the edges of her nostril. I can't help but relax and giggle.
She cracks a loopy eye at me and scoffs, her words a little slurred from her medicine, "it feels good and you're laughing at me?" There's absolutely no malice or judgement in her voice.
"You're cute," I blurt without thinking. The heat spreads from my cheeks to my ears to my chest. I don't know what's gotten into me and I shake my head, hair wild and on-end.
"You don't have to be embarrassed, JJ," her words are slurred, probably more than she wants them to be. She needs to sleep and her eyelids droop with each soft swipe of the cloth on her face. The guilt eats at me for allowing these thoughts to add to the stress of her predicament. My jaw starts to tighten with self-hatred, but relaxes when her thumb weakly brushes my cheek. My eyes widen as hers shine and I nod in understanding.
"You should sleep," I whisper as I lean into her hand, admiring the way she's taking care of me after what she's been through.
A lump forms in my throat as I watch her face relax, kissing her knuckles before laying her arm back down against her side. The gravity of our next moves starting the settle in. She's going to take it like a champ—hide it away— compartmentalize the lie and the impending loneliness. Unless I can find a way to keep her beautiful mind from slipping into the far reaches of darkness.
I startle out of my thoughts when she clears her throat and whispers, "those wheels in your brain are gonna keep both of us up all night."
"I'm sorry, baby," I rub her knuckles before standing to turn the lights off. She's as out as the lights, mouth slightly ajar, before I make it to the cot against the wall.
I sigh, body stiff, as I lay down and pull blanket over me. The light from the encrypted phone illuminating the space between me and the fabric.
She can't go alone.
The message is short and simple. Firm.
No, she can't. Wait for my word.
The response is almost immediate and equally firm.
My eyes drift closed from the weight of the day and travel.
The cobwebs of sleep start to slip from my mind; my neck is stiff and my shoulder is stuck, but I manage to relax it and wonder why I'm awake when the only light in the room is from the glow of the monitors. As I'm stretching the tension out, I jolt at the shrill call of my name. My heart pounds in my throat at the realization I don't know how long she's been calling for me. I throw the covers off, almost slipping as I stand.
"JJ!" Her voice is pained and panicked, but not screaming. Blood thunders in my ears as I close the distance between us. Her face drains of color as she pushes herself up and dry heaves. There's no time for me to run for the trashcan between the first and second heave and she tips forward as far past the bed as she can.
"I'm here, Em," my hands bracing her shoulders so she doesn't fall. Her hands rip at the cannula in a frenzy moments before her stomach betrays her. Her right hand reaches to latch onto mine at her shoulder as she groans. She moans low in her throat, face trembling.
"I'm sorry," she forces out between breaths and I manage to catch a tear from my eye before she notices.
I shake my head vigorously as I move to face her, taking her face between my palms; My thumbs brush her cheeks as I press my lips into her forehead, "I love you."
She nods firmly, eyes glazed and exhausted. Her hands grip my wrists as she chokes on a cry, "I love you, too."
"I'm gonna call a nurse in now. How do you feel about getting up for a hair wash?" I laugh as she nods her head immediately, "Ok, I pressed the call button."
When the room is sanitized and Emily has apologized profusely, unnecessarily, she moves her left leg inch by inch toward the side of the bed. Her muscles scream and I can see her pulse throbbing in her neck. I know it's not the time to stop her so I just brace her weight and allow her time to adjust. The nurse returns and announces herself sweetly, preparing the IV pole for her catheter bag and fluids. I want to cheer loudly when Emily gets her right leg over the edge of the bed, but I don't want to risk embarrassing meant when she's so vulnerable.
She grips my capable arms as she slips over the edge of the bed. Her knees are so wobbly and I bite the inside of my cheek to hold back tears.
I choke out a laugh which I'm sure gives my tears away when she exclaims, "it's salon time!" But her legs don't match her excitement and her body trembles. I can see how much effort a single step is taking as her face turn red with exertion.
"Do you need a break?" I asked firmly, my arms supporting her weight as she puts one leg in front of the other.
"No." It comes out biting but I know immediately, with the sniffle that follows, that she's sorry.
"It's ok, honey. I know," I whisper with certainty.
"Do I have a toothbrush?"
"Yes, once you're at the sink I can get you one," she sighs in relief at my words.
She pauses the momentum she built and concern flashes in my eyes. I'm about to brace myself when she gets wobbly, but her unexpected words bring warmth to my face, "you're pretty."
I smirk as she slurs the last syllable, "did they give you another dose?"
Her brows furrow and she frowns, "no, I'm hurting like a motherfucker but you're still pretty."
I can't help the open-mouthed laugh that comes out, but I stifle it when Emily's face continues to fall.
"What, baby?"
"You love me?" Her words are shaky, on the edge of her last pain med dosage.
"I do," I sigh contentedly but hope we can continue this conversation when she isn't loopy, "a lot."
Her brain is not in a place to ask questions or process and I breathe out a sigh of relief when she allows me to redirect her back to walking.
My heart wrenches when her knees twitch and her raw, shredded fingertips seek stability against my forearms, "little bit more walking, Em."
Her beautiful lips press into a thin line as we reach the bathroom sink and she braces herself. Her left knee pops audibly as she reaches for the ceramic, infiltrating our bubble of concentration; a giggle, a beautiful giggle erupts from her throat that has me snorting, "I'm old, JJ."
"You're my little, old lady," I quip and I could get drunk from the sounds of her laughter. Her face scrunches in agreement and I want more than anything to bring her to my lips. My heart flutters but I swallow it down, refusing to put that on her right now. When she has a firm grasp on the sink and she nods in confirmation, I move to find her the toothbrush I promised.
There's a bustle of activity as a nurse in the hallway rushes to the supplies and retrieves the toiletries. Her face is warm and genuine as I thank her. The door clicks closed and my chest constricts when I hear sniffles.
"Em?" I whisper as a rap my knuckles against the doorframe.
Her reflection catches my eyes and she looks away, fingers gripping harder onto the edges of the sink. Her nostrils flare as she inhales and withdraws into her mind, into that secret place. The raw, tender purple in her cheeks is prominent in the fluorescence. Her bruises have bloomed full force, proof of her bravery; proof of the lengths she'll go to in order to save a life.
"Toothbrush?" Her eyebrows furrow as she holds her hand up weakly.
I nod as I open the toothpaste and apply it before setting it in her open hand. She blinks a gentle thank you, no words needed. She hums at the feeling of the bristles scrubbing, her face full of sheer determination as her hand shakes. I can't help but lean against the doorframe as I take her in. It's such a mundane task—brushing teeth. But she died in that ambulance, coded. Her beautiful heart stopped working and she's in front of me brushing her teeth.
I don't realize there are tears rolling down both cheeks until the sound of brushing stops and a pair of concerned eyes are on me. Those beautiful eyes carry an entire world of pain, but they're latched onto me like I'm the most important thing in the universe.
Her eyes flicker to her hand, now dripping with foam. She moves to rinse and I close the distance, not able to stop myself any longer. I press my face into the space between her shoulder blades as my hands slip safely into the spaces between her arms.
"Hold on, JJ," her voice is tender before continuing, "let me sit so I can hold you." I nod firmly against her back, my tears soaking into her gown. I sigh as she moves slowly toward the chair, carefully maneuvering herself down. Her arms extend and her fingers summon me close. I brace myself against the arms of the chair, careful not to put my weight on her. Her pulse is sturdy, healthy, in her neck as I rest my forehead in the space between her should and throat. She's careful with her IV lines as nimble fingers thread through my hair, brushing it from my face.
My heart stammers in my throat when she lifts my knuckles to her lips and I'm not sure how long I stay; but I don't care. Not even with the stiffness seizing my back and thighs from the position I've forced myself into. I breathe her in and nod as her thumb caresses my cheek, a silent way of asking me if I'm ok. My lips quiver and I shudder as I think of the last five years.
Emily came into our lives like a tidal wave— brilliant, sure, captivating. All-consuming.
Her intelligence was staggering; even Penelope knew. She wasn't subtle with the look she threw my way. When I told her it wasn't a transcript and her eyes fluttered across the page, I swallowed in amazing. I shot daggers toward Penelope and she smirked. She knew I was done for. And I knew it, too.
"Why are you thinking so loud?" I jump at her sudden words, praying my pulse doesn't give me away.
"Thinking about you," I hum.
"Uh-oh," she plays.
The next words tumble from my mouth before I can catch them, "do you know how loved you are?"
Her breath hitches and I fear I've pushed too far. I start to pull away but her grip tightens and she lets out a sob.
"I'm sorry." The corners of her mouth turn downward, ashamed. Her lip brushes my thumb as I bring my hands to her face.
"You shouldn't have done it alone." I don't mean to sound angry and I'm hoping the caress of my hands tells her how proud I am of her. I hope she knows how proud we all are.
"I know, JJ," a tear drop falls onto my hand and guilt floods me.
"I'm so proud of you, Emily. So fucking proud," my words are thick and firm as my eyes meet hers. Her lashes flutter closed, saturated and heavy. She sighs as I collect the fallen droplets with the pad of my thumb.
"It was stupid," her voice cracks.
The words get caught in my throat as they fight their way up, "no, baby."
Her dimples collect tears as she nods her head fiercely in disagreement and she tries to pull away. Her chest rattles with uneven breaths and I can tell her mind is slipping. I caress her knuckles before laying her hands flat against my sternum and it's not long before her breaths match mine. She shudders once more before nodding.
She bites her lip hard and winces, "I'm sorry you had to lie to them."
My eyebrows crease deeply, "How'd you know?"
"I can read you faster than Spencer can read a book," she quips, "and you think I'm smart." She picks on me with a drawn-out vowel.
"You have a beautiful brain." I smile but I can see a storm behind her eyes.
"I'm scared." Her admission chisels at my armor.
"We're going to get you to Paris," she shakes her head in defeat at my words but I push through, "and then, when it's safe, you're going to come home to me."
Her fingers wrap around my wrists with a gentleness that steals my breath and she pulls me toward her. My breaths are quick and I'm certain she can feel my pulse beat wildly in my wrists. Her eyes search mine for permission before looking down. There's a hint of worry settling between her eyebrows and I realize she thinks I'm going to reject her. My index finger eases the worry lines, feather-light. She closes her eyes in relief and rests her forehead against mine. Her breaths puff gently against my face and I swallow hard as I feel her nose flare against mine.
"I'm going to kiss you now," my words are firm and clear and I can feel her relief. My eyes shift down to admire her lips, my index finger tracing the delicate skin before brushing my lips tentatively against hers. Her head tilts and goosebumps run down my legs as her lips part for me. Her fingers brush against my chin before slipping them through my hair; her soft, sure hands cradle my head as she kisses me deeper. Her warmth ignites my nerves, healing those frayed ends. She caresses the skin behind my ear and she pulls away with a loud pop. She moans softly as I press my lips back into hers with sureness. I brush my nose against hers as we pull away and she smiles.