Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

They’re opposites on most fronts, really.
Dark and broody Emily ‘thunderstorm’ Prentiss, who can’t (and frankly, won’t ) start a day without a cup of coffee, black. And, most of the time attached to the brunette in one way of another, Jennifer ‘sunshine’ Jareau. With her soft eyes and bright smile, and an emotional support water bottle covered in both dents (she might be a little bit clumsy) and funny stickers.
When you spot the sunny one, you can be sure of the shadow that’s somewhere in her orbit, providing safety, and shielding her from the rest of the world.

But that very shield has to become an eclipse from time to time, because it will always become too much for JJ. The job and its horrors, and the responsibility she feels like she has to carry on her own two shoulders, and only her shoulders. Sometimes, Emily’s sun will go supernova because of the pressure of it all. Except, JJ isn’t one to explode.

Instead, she breaks. And if, when , she does, all of her shatters and scatters, and her shards aim to kill. And she hates it. She loathes every part of the process; the hurting, the breaking, the searching, the healing… but most of all she hates that everyone can see the exact moment the cracks in her porcelain façade begin to expand. She’s surrounded by profilers, after all.

So, Emily becomes the moon that shields the sun from the earth. Helps her glue together her pieces, and even finds the ones she thought were long gone. Without fail, Emily’s there to catch JJ when she falls.

And when Emily gets scared of the dark, whether it be the nightmares, or her knee-jerk instincts in coping with them, JJ will be there, by her side, lighting the way. She will chase away the shadows that threaten to pull her under with their tendrils of self-hatred. She will keep the door to Emily’s heart ajar, so light will always find a way back in, even if the brunette wants nothing more than to drown in a glass of scotch. Or multiple.
When Emily’s flame gets blown out by the breath of her past, that always seems to track her down somehow, JJ happily, tenderly, reignites the spark to keep her lover’s fire going. To the outside world, her walls are high and guarded, but fro JJ, well… maybe she won’t patch up the cracks the blonde managed to find in the carefully constructed prison she keeps her emotions locked away in. Because if there’s one thing about cracks, it’s that those make sure the light can stream in every sunrise.

Spencer would joke that they are quantum entangled photons. You cannot observe one, without taking her counterpart into considiration.
They raised their eyebrows at that (which didn’t stop Reid from infodumping all over the place. It never has, and most likely never will). They’re different, separate individuals, each with their own story, their own weights in their backpack of Life. And yet, they belong together.
After googling the not-so-theoretical-physics-understanding-genius explanation the internet had for the phenomenon called Quantum Entanglement (and the subsequent rabbithole Emily fell into that caused her to hug Sergio a bit tighter that night), the brunette understood. The way their hands fit together so perfectly, like Japanese wood joining, or how their bodies slot into each other like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle during movie nights. How, even when Emily’s on a case seven-hundred miles away, JJ manages to pick exactly the moment the brunette feels like giving up to call her, to tell her about the ducks she saw at the park, or how the barista that day managed to misspell her name. Or how when JJ is facing a particularly stubborn crowd of media outles, Emily will be waiting back at her office, steaming mug of chamomile tea in hand, and that one hoodie that has that distinct Emily scent ready to envelop her in familiar comfort.

It all makes sense, really. Feels like it was meant to be. The’ve gravitated towards each other from day one, yet they were the last to figure it out. When that realisation sunk in for the both of them, at the same time, it received a nerdy quip from Spencer, something along the lines of photons not having a conciousness, and therefore no awareness of the influence they have on each other. He earned a shove to the arm from Garcia (who had not been mingling and pushing them together, absolutely no chance goodbye and thank you ), but that was lost on the, previously oblivious, pair.

And looking back at all their years at the BAU, every shared trauma, every happy memory, it always has.

Chapter Text

‘It’s gonna be okay’, Emily softly spoke, as she holstered her gun and made her way to the man.

And just as sudden, it wasn’t okay anymore.
The unsub, Jeremy, pulled a blade from his back pocket just as she went to cuff him. In one swift motion, he grabbed the brunette, immobilized her hands behind her back, and brought the blade to her neck.
She couldn’t hold back the whimper that managed to escape from her stoic mask.

Every single surrounding cop and agent pulled their gun, training it on Jeremy. Ready to shoot.
And then, JJ saw it. The gleam of hesitation and regret in his eyes. He didn’t want to kill Emily. She’d recognised it, the desperation and pure fear in this man’s gaze.

Jeremy’s eyes darted around. They darted around right up until they met JJ’s soft blue ones. And then they stopped. JJ held his gaze, trying so hard not to shake or cry because that is Emily in his hands and I…

She didn’t finish the thought.

It all went smoothly before this, she remembered. So what had changed? He had stabbed four people to death in the past week. He had a clean record before that. So what made him snap? Why would he react so violently to the promise that it would be okay? She racked her brain for triggers, stressors, anything, really.

Oh.

And then she made the connections. All of his victims, seemingly chosen at random. They all had one thing in common.
Every single crime scene, home, they’d visited to make up a profile, had a rainbow flag somewhere on the outside of the house.
But he didn’t struck her as a homophobe. Not at all, not with the way he was looking at Emily. He looked sorry. Sorry with a glint of jealousness?
Had she seen that right?

Oh god.

Jeremy didn’t kill out of hate. Not entirely at least. He killed because they had something he couldn’t have. Acceptance, community.

Love.

JJ decided to lower her gun. Decided to toss it on the ground. She could barely hear Morgan asking her what the fuck she was doing.

‘Jeremy’, she said, softly, ‘I don’t want to hurt you. And I know you don’t want to hurt anyone either.’

She held up both hands, a white-flag-offering.

‘But I know you’re hurting. I can see it in your eyes, Jeremy.’

She stepped closer to them, slow and steady, no sudden movements. She glanced at Emily then, the fear prominent in the brunette’s eyes, along with a few question marks.
JJ continued forward.

‘I know you’re scared, but we weren’t lying, okay? It really is okay. It really is, and you want to know how I know?’

She took a steadying breath.

‘The fear in your eyes, I’ve seen it before. Countless of times, in a highschool soccer dressroom, in the mandatory religion classes, in courtrooms. And in the mirror of my childhood home, staring right back at me.’

She didn’t care that the team didn’t know, that she wasn’t out of the closet yet. But he had Emily , the blade digging dangerously close into the skin of her neck. And if her being bisexual cost her her job, then so be it; because it could also save Emily, the one person she felt safest with, the person she trusted most out of all teammates.

The woman she had been in love with for the better part of a decade, yet refused to acknowledge it for herself.

‘Those eyes stared right back at me, Jeremy, when I went to take care of the redness that was seeping into the skin on my jaw after my dad found my diary. After he disrespected my privacy, my secrets. After finding out I also liked girls.’

Jeremy faltered, slightly, taken aback by the woman who was nearing him.

‘And I was scared to be who nI was, to love who I wanted to love.’

Her eyes briefly, unintentionally met Emily’s brown ones, now brimming with unshed tears.

‘And I still am, sometimes. Because when people tell you, time and time again, that you’re broken, that you need to be fixed and that you’re a vile human being just for who you love, it tends to leave a nasty scar on how you perceive the world. But I need you to know, I need you to look at me, Jeremy.’

She was standing right in front of him, and she could see the quiver of his lip, the tears, the distinct somene finally sees me -look in his eyes. She could see how he loosened his grip on the knife, how the blade stopped digging into Emily’s neck.

‘Jeremy. Look at me, please?’

And against better judgement, he did.

‘You don’t choose who you fall in love with. You don’t choose the anguish and the fear that comes with being queer. You just love. And it shouldn’t hurt this much to be able to place that feeling. They shouldn’t have made you feel like that. You’re not broken, do you hear me?’

Jeremy sobbed then. And so did Emily.
JJ held out her hand. Spencer walked over to them right as the man surrendered his knife and let go of Emily.
Her team lowered their weapons, right as JJ tossed the blade to her side and caught the brunette in her arms.

They both sobbed. JJ’s hands cupped Emily’s face, desperately looking between her eyes, silently asking if she’s alright. And all Emily could do was sob, violently, and grasp onto anything that was JJ.

‘Shhh, you’re okay Em. I got you.’

Chapter Text

The moment the jet touched down, she knew. She knew how badly she didn’t want to know anymore. How badly she wanted to erase the images of whatever was left of the boy they weren’t able to save. Of the boy she should have saved and you failed, Emily.
She, uncharacteristically agressively, yanked her overnight duffel from its place above her seat, and with a borderline terrifying look, marched her way off of the jet, towards her designated SUV on the tarmac, and disappeared into the night.

All JJ could do was watch all of it unfold, knowing that this kind of Emily would do whatever it took to forget, for just a moment, to erase the mental images of the boy, no older than five, in six pieces spread around a clearing in some forest near the Canadian border. His battered and bruised face, gaze long gone, but still aimed at the setting sun was what tipped her over the edge. His eyes, a once vibrant cerulean, now clouded over by death, looked so gentle, void of fear or hate or resentment. If he were still in one piece, and not in multible body bags, it could’ve looked like his death was somewhat peaceful. The carnage and blood trails told a different story though.

So, Emily did what she hadn’t done in quite a while; she ran. Or, more accurately, drove. She drove to some pub near the outskirts of Quantico, the establishment nothing more than a brown brick wall with a green wooden door and a graffitied name she didn’t care to remember above it.
As she practically beelined to the bar, she vaguely remembered the FBI therapist telling her that isolating wasn’t the best thing she could do right now, that she needed people who’d get her around her. People who related to her.
Well, the bar was kind of packed, so she wasn’t alone, and by the looks of it, she also was far from the only one there to drink to forget.

She ordered five shots of tequila. A whisky, neat. A while later, some glasses of wine and a couple of cocktails passed her table, and not all of them were bought by her. Some men a couple of tables away from her noticed her, noticed the despair and sadness behind her eyes, noticed how she drank one drink after the other. Noticed how she became less aware. Noticed how her legs violently wobbled as she made her way to the bathroom, taking it as their cue to follow her.

What they didn’t notice was the worried blonde who’d been out looking for her the last couple of hours standing in the doorway. She gave up her erratical and chaotic drive through every street in favor of calling Garcia to just trace the brunette’s phone, leading her to the non-descript pub, witnessing her best friend getting preyed on, while the brunette was too far gone to either notice or care, and JJ didn’t know which one of those was the more terrifying option.
JJ had a gut feeling from when the jet took off from the case that Emily wouldn’t be okay, and that she’d do things she would regret at some point in the near-future. Right now she was glad she hadn’t ignored it, because her feet dragged her towards the bathroom, towards the poorly muffled and weak sounds of some struggle. Towards the door knob that she turned to open the unlocked door. Towards the men almost succeeding in pinning Emily to the granite countertop.
There were three of them. And Emily was rapidly fading, just barely catching the thwap thwap thwap of JJ’s fist colliding with whichever face was nearest, before she collapsed.

JJ surged forward, narrowly keeping Emily’s head from colliding with the tile floor. Her knees gave a sickening crack when she landed on them, but she didn’t care.
Her best friend, her rock, frankly her everything was suffering, and she’d been almost too late to keep her safe from more harm than she could do to herself.

Emily’s eyes weakly fluttered when she cupped her face and ran her thumb over her cheekbones. The blonde took her phone out of her back pocket to dial 911. She wasn’t sure if it was for the three near-unconscious men she’d beaten off of the brunette, the brunette herself, or both. She figured whomever picked up the phone could decide for her on that matter.

JJ’s phone was on its third dial tone to 911 when Emily made some sort of sound. The younger woman’s thumb still stroking along her cheekbone, something that kept Emily more or less tethered to reality.

The phone call itself was a blur. Four ambulances and two pairs of cops arrived not even ten minutes later. Emily ended up being the only one to be taken to the ER, and JJ didn't even hesitate for a second before jumping in the back of the rig to make sure she wouldn’t wake up alone and in a strange environment.

She expected a lot of things when she boarded the jet, imagined a dozen scenarios about how she’d survive the night, about how the team would cope. None of them included grey vinyl flooring, sterile white walls and the steady beeping of a heart monitor, the only sign Emily was still alive.

The harsh lights of the emergency room made her look even paler than she was, the scratchy sheets covering her body not really helping keeping her warm.
She stirred then. Inhaled deeply and suddenly and opened her eyes faster than they could adjust to the sudden influx of light attacking her. JJ was at her side before she could make a noise. JJ, who took her hand into her own so gently. JJ, whose eyes were red around the edges. JJ, who was technically still crying tears of worry when Emily’s eyes finally adjusted and locked onto the blonde’s eyes.

Emily heaved before she even registered that she was going to, some sort of cardboard ricipient bowl already held under her face as she threw up.

The heart monitor picked up in speed, and didn’t slow down after she’d finished. And JJ, ever so vigilant and aware of others’ needs, climbed in the bed with her, wrapped her arm around the brunette’s frame and guided her head to her shoulder, not caring about the tear stains that would end up soaking through her shirt.

‘You’ll be okay, you’re safe now; I got you.’, JJ whispered, her lips pressed to the top of her head.
She tilted up her head, eyes meeting halfway.

‘Close your eyes sweetheart. Just rest; we’ll take tomorrow as it comes.’

Chapter Text

The blonde darted from the scene the moment she saw her. The bathroom door of the one survivor left. The bathroom door of the girl who lived, despite the gruelling things she’d witnessed a week earlier.

The bathroom door of the girl, pale and bathing in crimson with still-dripping gashes running the length of her forearms.

JJ didn’t need – didn’t want – to see the scene, didn’t want to face the fact that the girl she caught in her arms six days ago at the precinct was lying lifeless in the bathtub.

She smelled it the moment the door opened, iron attacking her nose. And she knew she was going to see the whole thing, regardless. So, she took a breath and stepped into the tiled room.
There was a mirror above the sinks in front of her, and she vaguely registered the deer-in-headlights look she wore. Her boots made a soft splashing sound as she inched further, the water only leading her to the windowed wall to her right.

She looked down and saw dark pink.

Her eyes moved up before she could thinks, and she noticed the softly running faucet, overflowing the tub where a body-

And then, she saw her dead sister and heard the dripping of the faucet and overflowing tub in her childhood house. Her breath hitched.

She had to surpress a gag, hand clasped on her mouth as her eyes darted around the room

She recoiled, turned on her heels and bolted before physically running into some person that blocked her way out of this nightmare. Because that body in there? Not the surviving girl she’d held. It was Roslyn, everything too similar and too real for JJ’s mind to stay grounded to the present.

Right now, she was a scared 11-year old, at risk of freezing solid with no one to thaw her.

Chest heaving and eyes flitting, well, everywhere, looking for an exit to this mess, she collected herself and tried to make a run for it.

Not on Emily’s watch.

She’d seen the whole ordeal; she was the one to not shout clear when they searched the house, eyes landing on the dark-haired girl that took her own life.
She left the room once her colleagues were in, because she just saw herself at 15. Or at least how she thought she would end up at 15, after her abortion; after her church and mother refused to look at her without disgust and disappointment colouring their faces when they found out 12 days later, the abortion not having been complete and an infection running rampant in her pelvis.

She’d buried the razor a week later, and burnt the letter while she smoked a cigarette, and told no one.

She was outside, pacing the front lawn and trying to breathe whan JJ all but barreled into her, crazed look in her eyes and breathing faster than was healthy, and Emily had known that she’d seen it – her – too. The blonde stumbled back and straightened her back, looking everywhere but at Emily. She wasn’t even sure if JJ could really see her. She tried calling out her name, JJ, Jennifer, Agent Jareau…

Nothing.

So, Emily did what her instincts told her, and reached out to hold her girl.

Big mistake, apparently, because JJ violently pushed her away, screamed at her to go away and she’s dead and I can’t help her anymore I can’t save her I was too late leave me the fuck alone!

She screamed until her lungs had no more air to expell, until her legs buckled and she balled her fists.

And Emily moved. She walked towards the blonde, walked past her and then turned so she stood behind her before she lowered herself into the grass. And JJ was still furious, at some force beyond anyone’s control, and hitting her chest because she couldn’t breathe.
The brunette took hold of her wrists from behind her girl and crossed JJ’s arms over her chest, the blonde never giving up the fight. Emily managed to hold her, though. She held her arms secured, and then went and put her own arms over JJ’s and pulled her into her own front, and tightened her grip.

It wasn’t a hug.

It was raw and violent, ugly tears and broken pieces and screams of despair on a sunny Tuesday morning, its cozy warmth a shrill contrast.

They sat there, a mess of thrashing limbs and whispered reassurances, until JJ slowed her flailing. Until the glaze that settled over her irises cleared up enough for her to see the world unblurred. Until she registered the pressure of arms around her torso. Until the iron in her nose got replaced by the scent of freshly washed linen and herbal shampoo.
Until JJ managed to heave a breath, sob and cough at the same time, and until she heard Emily’s soft whispers into her hair.

And if anyone saw the brunette’s tear stained face, and the intermittent soft kisses she placed on the top of JJ’s head, they didn’t acknowledge it.

Eventually, after what felt like ages, they slowly untangled their arms, and JJ turned her body and all but smushed her face into the crook of Emily’s neck, breathing in the scent that was so distinctly her to chase away the last traces of iron and rust.

Emily snaked her arms around the blonde’s torso, this time soft and gentle, and slowly swayed left to right as JJ’s sobs turned into muffled breaths against her neck.

She didn’t tell her she was okay, that everything is going to be okay, because it wasn’t. She wasn’t okay, and the trauma of Roslyn’s suicide was still too raw to make that promise.

‘I got you. I’m here. You’re here.’