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The rain is coming down hard, covering the surrounding neighborhood in a sheet of fast and tiny water droplets. Emily Prentiss is soaked even just from sprinting the three feet from her car to the front porch. Straight to the place she hasn't set foot near for over eight months. The half dozen blue and yellow hydrangeas feels heavier in her hand, the plastic wrapping surrounding the stems having trapped a ridiculous amount of water from the rain. The wind whips wildly around her, spraying her with even more water and chilling her to the bone. Thin black locks of her hair fly back against her face, stinging as they slap and cling to her skin.
The coil of fear and nausea deep in Emily's stomach easily overpowers every other emotion. Despite shivering and shaking from the cold, she can focus on nothing other than her racing heart and deep ache as her anxiety roots deep within her. This house that should be familiar, that should invoke strong feelings of nostalgia and belonging, only makes her cower and want to run away.
Her eyes flit up to the gold-plated numbers that hang just above the doorbell— 264. Her hand trembles as she reaches out and traces them, metal cool and wet beneath her fingertips. She closes her eyes at the surge of emotions that hit her, nearly suffocating her under the intense weight. She exhales sharply, raising a shaking fist up to knock on the door.
She finds the action a lot harder than it should be. She pauses the movement of her fist several times, feeling more doubtful each time. Her hand is trembling to the point she feels she can’t even force herself to knock. Her heart pounds wildly in her chest, as if telling her that this is a bad idea. That she shouldn't be here.
The thought makes her fist stop midway on another swing towards the door.
Eight months.
She hasn't stepped foot anywhere near this house for eight months. It's so unbelievably strange and heartbreaking (not to mention incredibly panic inducing) for her to be here. Despite knowing this place as home far longer than she's been away from it, she can't help but feel deep down inside that she no longer belongs.
The thought makes her hand fall back down to her side.
She has no right to come here. Not anymore.
She bows her head and hunches in defeat, wrapping her arms around her cold, wet body. The plastic from the bouquet pokes into her side, but she barely registersit. She can barely tell if it's tears or the rain that fall from her face now. A droplet falls from her cheek and follows the bridge of her nose, dripping off onto the pavement below. She raises a pale hand to wipe it away, ready to bolt to the hills.
Emily wonders if Penelope would let her stay at her place just a bit longer, just until she gets things figured out.
All Emily's thoughts immediately leave her head when she hears footsteps on the other side of the door and the distinct sound of a door lock clicking. She freezes on the spot, unable to force herself to move before the person on the other side opens the door. All she can hear is the sound of her own heartbeat thudding wildly in her ears, and her hands shake uncontrollably (she knows it's not entirely from the cold).
Despite her nerves, despite everything in her body telling her to run away, Emily finds herself still frozen in place when she lays eyes on JJ.
The brunette's heart clenches like it's the first time she's laid eyes on the blonde. She's always been the most beautiful woman Emily's ever seen, even in the light gray sweats and oversized black t-shirt she wears.
But the one thing Emily notices above everything is the golden band, much like Emily's own, on the blonde's left hand that glints when the light just catches it.
She's still wearing her wedding ring, Emily thinks emotionally to herself, breath catching in her throat. Even after everything, she's still wearing it. The mere sight is enough to give Emily some confidence that maybe coming back here wasn't a terrible idea.
She finally gathers the courage to try and really look at the blonde, an explanation already at the tip of her tongue. I know you're mad at me, and you have every single right to be, and that I don't deserve to be asking you for your time but if I could just get five minutes—
Emily's words stop in her throat as soon as her eyes meet JJ's. It's like what little confidence she had is shattered on the spot and all she can do is freeze. All she can hear is the sound of her own heart beat racing in her ears, and she's well aware her hands are shaking beyond her control.
All she does is stand there.
JJ could very well slam the door in her face right then and there. She could run away just like that day in the conference room when Hotch told the team Emily was really alive. She could hate the brunette for the rest of her life, move on and find someone with a much less complicated past.
Someone who wouldn't spend months in hiding because they didn't know how else to protect everyone they cared about.
Someone that wouldn't keep a part of themselves hidden from her.
Someone who wouldn't fake their death for months and show up again out of the blue.
Someone who wouldn't cause everyone around them such heartbreak and sorrow.
Emily wouldn't blame her a bit for it.
JJ stares back at the brunette, making the older woman shrink under her wife’s steely gaze. Emily's head drops in shame, unable to look up at those ocean blue eyes. She can't stand seeing any anger or hate aimed in her direction.
She swears it'll kill her.
The only sounds to be heard are the rain hitting the sidewalk and road and the steady roll of thunder in the sky. The blonde's hand remains on the doorknob, her grip so tight that her knuckles are going white. Her expression is completely unreadable to Emily.
It makes the older woman feel like she can't breathe.
She tenses in anticipation, heart already sinking at the inevitable gust of wind of the door swinging shut, the loud slam that would echo in the neighborhood and in Emily's heart. She's already planning on crawling back to Penelope's apartment to wallow, to figure out what exactly to do with her life now that a huge piece of it will be missing.
Instead of all of that, any of it, JJ moves to the side. The invitation is silent, yet completely unexpected. Emily looks back up, hair whipping against her cheek with an audible click. She wraps her arms around her frame, becoming aware of her chattering teeth, shuddering breath, and clouds of breath escaping her lips. Her whole body is covered in goosebumps and she suddenly realizes it's the cold, not her nerves, that is making her tremble uncontrollably.
JJ's free hand jerks slightly towards Emily before she stops and recoils, fingers clenching slowly. Instead of words, she looks up at Emily once more before she walks inside of the house. The door is left wide open behind her, a clear invite for Emily to come in.
Emily slowly, hesitantly, takes the invitation, gratefully stepping into the warm home. Their home. She gently closes the door and sets the flowers down on the table by the door, noting JJ's absence from the room. Emily rubs her hands over her biceps in a weak attempt to warm herself up. She brings her hands up to her mouth, rubbing them together and cupping them. As she puffs out warm breaths over her chilled hands, her eyes wander to look at the pictures on the walls.
The frames all contain photographs that Emily remembers. There's pictures of the couple from their wedding day, of the two and Penelope during a few girl's’ nights, pictures of various past and present members of the team and random pictures of DC during different times of the year.
Sitting on the table that holds the flowers is a childhood picture of JJ and her sister Rosalyn on the table. The wood stain that colors the frame is wearing at the edges from years of JJ holding the picture when she missed her sister.
Emily's fingers graze the table, freezing when she spots a new frame just beside the old one.
The brunette doesn't think she'll ever get over seeing her face on a memorial plaque, an honor reserved only for lost and fallen agents. The one that hangs on the walls at the Bureau is the same one that lies on the table. Emily can't help but to stare back at herself in the glass case, knowing that the picture served as nothing more than a reminder of her life as an FBI agent. Such a small portion of her life was memorialized in the 8x11 frame, gifted to her grieving wife as a harsh reminder that the brunette was gone forever.
In the dim light of the room, Emily can spot fingerprints marring the glass. Her heart sinks and her expression softens. JJ had been handling her picture much like she would the frame from her childhood. Emily had only been gone for eight months, and yet the collection of fingerprints on the glass is just as prominent as the wear and tear on the old frame.
Oh JJ...
I really messed things up, Emily thinks to herself sadly, pulling her hand back towards her torso. Even if I did what I felt was right, I messed everything up.
The thought makes Emily step back, exhaling sharply. She really doesn’t deserve to be here. She doesn't deserve any of JJ's forgiveness. She doesn't deserve any of it.
She turns and fumbles for the front doorknob, hands shaking in the process.
"Emily?"
The first word JJ had even uttered to her since she had come back makes Emily go rigid. The pain and confusion in the blonde's hoarse voice is so prominent it brings tears to the older woman's eyes. How can she stand there and inflict even more pain on her wife? Why was Emily making it so difficult to fix things?
The brunette finally gathers the courage to turn around and is met with an empty room. She's confused until she spots the kitchen light flick on. Her hand drops from the doorknob, eyes catching the towel and dry clothes folded neatly on the back of the couch. She's slow to pick them up and move over to the bathroom, shivering the entire way. She quietly shuts the door behind her, flicking on the lights.
The glance Emily gets of herself in the mirror nearly makes her nauseous. She looks absolutely pathetic: caved in cheeks, dark purple bags under her eyes, chapped lips, stringy, tangled hair that lay in wet clumps all over her head, and an expression that screamed defeat.
She's quick to look away, suddenly finding interest in the pile of clothes JJ left for her.
The black hoodie on top is thick, embroidered with the University of Pittsburgh's school logo on the front. Emily's fingers run softly over the detail, reminiscing about how often this particular hoodie of JJ's would end up in her possession to the point the blonde let her keep it. The sweat pants beneath are plain gray and baggy enough that Emily can just tell they'll sit low on her frame without being tied. The material on the inside is insanely soft and warm, though, so she can't find it in herself to care.
Reaching over and flicking off the light once more, Emily quickly sheds herself of her old, wet clothes. She uses the towel to dry herself, careful to avoid the scar the stake left at her side and the shamrock branded on her chest. She wraps the towel in her hair, squeezing the excess water out before wrapping it in a secure coil on top of her skull. She squeezes it with her hands to gather as much moisture as possible before letting the cloth unravel and fall to the floor.
She then bends down and plucks out the bra and underwear from her wet clothes. They're damp, but not nearly water logged enough to be unwearable. She slips them and the dry clothes on, unable to hold back the content sigh as her chilled body is finally provided with warmth all around.
Emily finally gathers her wet clothes and bundles them in the towel, unsure of what to do with them. She opts to just carry them around, trying her best to convince herself that this isn't the most awkward she's ever felt in her entire life.
The door squeaks entirely too loud as Emily exits the bathroom, making her wince as she surveys her surroundings. The kitchen light is still on and yet feels like the most intimidating part of the home.
The brunette moves slowly towards it, still unsure if she should even be there. She pauses in the door frame, nostalgia coiling in her stomach.
JJ has her back towards Emily, hovering over the kettle on the stove. On the counter lies a ceramic tea set that was gifted to them by the JJ’a mother on the night of their wedding. Mrs and Mrs are engraved in the mugs, black glaze that was strategically poured into the tiny crevices to make the honorifics stand out even more.
Coming from a family where image meant everything, something as “taboo” as homosexuality was never tolerated. The brunette grew up in an environment that shamed every aspect of who she was. Coming out to her mother before she headed off to Georgetown seemed to be the breaking point for Emily’s mother.
She hadn’t spoken to the ambassador since then.
The support JJ has from her mother, and by extension, the support she has for Emily, is something the brunette has always gotten emotional over. She was finally treated like she was a normal person. Her sexuality wasn’t something ridiculed, but accepted and welcomed.
All that mattered to JJ’s mother was that Emily loved JJ and treated her right.
The memory makes Emily smile weakly.
The kitchen table has two mugs sitting on opposite sides of the table with a clear glass container full of honey between them. One light blue mug has an illustration of butterflies in a field of flowers. The other mug simply has a blackbird in mid-flight painted on the front.
It was a mug JJ had found Emily while thrift shopping years ago. Emily had only mentioned the song Blackbird maybe once at that point in time in passing. And yet, JJ had remembered how much it meant to the brunette, scooping up the find as soon as she saw it and gifting it to Emily the very next day.
It became the older woman's favorite mug to use ever since.
Emily slowly sits down in the chair in front of the blackbird mug, finger tracing over the illustration as the memories of late nights and early mornings with her wife come flooding back.
Out of everything, she thinks that is what she missed the most when she was in hiding. She would often find herself craving just one more morning with JJ, just enjoying each other's presence before starting their day. What she would have done to have one more long conversation in the dead of night with JJ about everything and nothing all at once.
She starts slightly out of her daze when she hears water softly splashing into her mug. She watches the stream of steaming hot liquid fill her cup and soak the dried herbs at the bottom. The scent immediately wafts up to her nostrils, making the brunette's eyes widen slightly. It's her favorite blend, a loose leaf black tea that can only be bought at a small apothecary shop just outside of the city.
"You remembered," Emily murmurs, surprising herself with the abruptness of her speech. She internally cringes at herself, feeling immediately awkward after the words leave her mouth.
JJ jumps slightly, briefly looking over at Emily as she pours water into her own mug. She ducks her eyes back down to the table, setting the kettle off to the side. She grabs the handle of her mug tightly, remaining silent.
Of course JJ would know. The two had known each other for the better part of six years, dated for five of those years and had been married just over one year. Of course the blonde would remember something as simple as her wife's favorite tea blend. Idiot, Emily mentally admonishes herself, reaching for the mug and grasping it in her hands.
The air between them is thick with the most awkward silence, nearly suffocating and definitely anxiety inducing. The brunette resists the urge to pick at her nails, watching the herbs swirl around her mug. She hears JJ slowly stirring the tea with a spoon, figuring the blonde had most likely put a few drops of honey in.
Emily’s foot bounces rhythmically, moving just before the bottom of her heel hits the ground. The grip she has on her mug tightens more and more, aligning to the beat of her heart. She mentally hypes herself up to speak, to say anything to JJ because that’s the least of what Emily owes her.
“I was so mad at you…”
Emily’s head snaps up at the sound of JJ’s voice, looking across the table at her wife.
JJ stares at her cup like it’s the most interesting thing in the world, stirring slowly still.
“When—“ her voice cracks, which she composes by quietly clearing her throat. “When we figured out you were going after Doyle on your own. I wanted to yell at you to let us help, to let us into your mind instead of shutting us out again. We could have helped…”
Emily’s heart sinks at the blonde’s hurt tone, holding onto her mug instead of reaching out for her wife. She’s not entirely sure if JJ would appreciate it at the moment.
JJ’s lower lip trembles. “I ran into that warehouse and saw you like that, I—“ A long pause. Then, softly,. “I watched you code in the ambulance. Hotch and Morgan had to hold me back from going back with you in the ER. And then Hotch came out and told us…”
She wipes her eyes with the heels of her hands, sniffing harshly.
Fuck it, Emily thinks, unable to see her wife in so much pain. She gently lays her hand on JJ’s wrist in comfort. She counts it as a victory when the blonde doesn’t jerk away or shake her hand off.
“I thought that losing my best friend as a child was hard. But no one ever told me how hard it would be to lose you,” JJ whispers shakily. A stray tear lands in her tea, so she pushes back her mug. “I went through hell without you. It was so hard for me to lose you without even saying goodbye, to be the grieving widow at your funeral…”
Emily’s thumb traces soothing circles on the blonde’s skin, remaining silent.
JJ looks up from her mug to the ceiling, sighing heavily. “Everything seemed to happen all at once. We had just found Doyle, went after him, lost two agents, and had a missing child in serious danger on our hands. We were all so overwhelmed when Hotch gathered us in the conference room.” Her chin slowly falls back down, sounding a bit ashamed. “When you came through that door, I just— I couldn’t handle it.”
Her voice raises slightly as she concludes. “It was too much.” She then winces, briefly looking up from the table towards the wall right beside Emily’s head. Her shoulders slump as she exhales and repeats in a whisper, “It was too much.”
“I never wanted to hurt you like this,” Emily starts firmly. “If there was one thing I never wanted to do to you, it was put you through something traumatic again.” Her own eyes well up with tears and she turns her face away from the blonde.
“But he found me when I thought he never could. He found me and—“ She swallows hard at the memory. “He came to DC a few weeks before I went after him in Baltimore. He had me meet him at a coffee shop. He—“ Her fist clenches. “JJ, he knew the team by name. He knew you by name.”
She hiccups as she continues, tears trailing down her cheeks. “I know what horrible things he was capable of. It would kill me if he ever got a hold of any of you. Especially you. I wouldn’t let him get to you. I didn’t want to hurt anybody, but if I was dead, he wouldn’t have any reason to come after any of you.”
She inhales shakily. “I never wanted to do something as complicated and traumatic as faking my death again. But if it meant protecting you from him…” Her thumb stops its motions on the back of JJ’s wris. “Even if you hate me for the rest of our lives, I don’t regret doing what I did to protect you.”
“I don’t hate you,” JJ whispers in surprise. Her hand clasps Emily’s tightly, giving it a squeeze. Her expression mirrors the brunette’s, eyes full of tears.
“Emily, I could never in a million years hate you,” JJ continues softly. “I’m still trying to come to terms with everything, but hate you? How can I hate you… when you came back…”
Emily’s heart flutters at the blonde’s confession. “Really?”
“I don’t,” JJ confirms softly, gently rocking their linked fingers. “But I’m still hurting,” she admits quietly. “This whole experience was deeply traumatizing. And I’m not too sure if I’m ready to go back to the way things were before…”
“I’ll give you all the time you need,” Emily swears. “We’ll go at your pace.”
JJ smiles softly in response. “Thank you.”
Emily gives her a small smile back, feeling a huge weight has been lifted from her chest. She goes to reach for her tea, when she hears a noise from the second floor of the house. She turns to the blonde with a puzzled look, as if the younger woman could explain what it was.
JJ sighs softly and stands up, leaving her mug on the table. She offers her hand to Emily. “Come here. There’s someone you need to see.”
Hesitantly, Emily takes the blonde’s outstretched hand and stands.
While it wasn’t an occurrence that happened often, JJ’s “brother” Thomas sometimes needed the blonde to watch his daughter, especially when something popped up out of the blue on his end. Though, other times, Thomas and his daughter would come over to visit the couple to catch up. Emily always liked to talk with him, and his daughter, while full of energy, was an absolute joy to watch.
“Thomas is an old friend from highschool,” JJ had explained to Emily during one of the nights the rambunctious six year old stayed over. “He’s not really my brother, but he’s always been like one to me.”
Emily figures the noises are coming from the sleeping six year old and that the blonde is just checking up on the child.
Though, as they move closer upstairs, she starts to doubt that theory.
Her mind is racing with thousands of possibilities. Towards the end of the hall is a room that has a soft pink glow coming from it, the noises getting louder and louder as the women move closer. When they’re a few feet from the door, JJ drops Emily’s hand and goes into the room.
Emily stands in the doorway, looking in disbelief.
The room was one the couple had renovated into a nursery.
JJ and Emily had always expressed to each other wanting children some day, even as far back as a few months after they had met. JJ always had a soft spot for children, especially during the cases when they were the sole survivor of a traumatic event. She often would try and talk to the children after they had been questioned by the authorities. She wanted to do her best to distract them from the horrors they had just endured. She wanted to give them a moment of calm and safety, even if if was just for a split second.
Emily had stepped up and offered to home an orphaned teenager during a case, knowing right at that moment that all she wanted was to protect and care for the child. There was a child in need, and all Emily wanted to do was help. She never once took her own needs into any sort of consideration.
The teen’s aunt had been tracked down and had agreed to take her in. It was great news, Emily kept telling herself, and it really was. Cases with orphaned children don’t always end up with the extended family reaching out to care for them.
Emily was genuinely happy for the teen, but had felt so hopeful at the thought of becoming a mother. Even months later, she felt incredibly guilty and selfish for even feeling upset over it.
The cases with the only survivor being children would leave both Emily and JJ sitting in their own corner of the jet and find the comfort in each other. They had to convince themselves that, somehow, the children would end up being okay.
Then, the conversation would drift into what it would be like if they themselves were mothers one day. It was a concept that both excited yet frightened them both at the same time. As more time passed, as JJ and Emily spent more time together, that desire only grew bigger for them both.
They started trying for a baby shortly after they had been married. They had booked appointment after appointment at fertility clinics in hopes to have a positive outcome. They would go home and wait, hoping that the procedure would work. They tried their best not to get their hopes up, but often spent the nights talking about the possibilities of their future family.
When the time came to take the pregnancy tests, the result was negative
The first negative never effected the couple badly. They were upset, but they told themselves they can try again in a few months. The more times they tried, the more negative test results came in. Slowly, Emily and JJ began to become affected by them, the hope for children of their own dwindling away with every single line on the pregnancy tests.
Emily still remembers the long nights comforting JJ and promising that they could try again in a few months. She never knew who she was trying more to convince, her wife or herself.
The last result Emily can recall is another negative.
Yet, JJ bends down and picks up a small bundle from the middle of the crib. It makes the brunette’s mind race as her eyes land on the tiny human being. “Is… Is that…”
JJ looks up from the tiny baby and over at her wife, giving a small nod. “Yeah. She’s your’s.”
“She,” Emily breathes out in disbelief, stepping into the room. She approaches the duo slowly, timidly, almost feeling like she doesn’t deserve to be there. “But… the test?”
JJ coos gently to the baby when she blinks, letting her grab her finger. “False negative,” she explains softly. “I didn’t know until a month after your funeral.”
JJ looks over at her wife. “Do you want to hold her?”
Emily's mouth opens in slightly in shock. Her mind is still reeling from seeing a baby, their baby, in JJ’s arms.
They have both wanted to be mothers for the longest time and now that dream was a reality. They have a baby. A baby that’s as real as Emily and JJ themselves. Emily’s eyes well with tears, voice cracking when she asks, “Can I?"
JJ gently hands the baby off to the brunette, supporting her neck until Emily's able to cradle her head. The blonde slowly moves her hand, running her finger lovingly down their daughter’s arm.
Emily stares down at the baby in awe. Looking at their daughter, so small and fragile, she swears that this is hands down the best moment of her life. The baby looks almost identical to the brunette, yet has some features that are similar to JJ's like the soft blonde hair and baby blue eyes.
“Hi," she whispers softly down to the baby, letting out a soft, wet laugh when she coos in response. She sniffles as a few tears trail down her cheeks. She carefully wipes them away before they fall down on the bundle in her arms. “Hi."
"How old is she?" she asks quietly, looking over at the blonde.
"Four months," JJ answers softly, clicking her tongue gently at the baby. "Pen helped me name her. Little Emma Rose, for you and Rosalyn."
Emily blinks back tears, gently rocking Emma in her arms. “I’m so sorry for leaving you to deal with this on your own. I promise, whatever it takes, I’ll make up for everything. I swear.”
JJ shakes her head slightly, sitting down on the rocking chair beside the crib. Her smile is soft, loving as she stares at the brunette and their baby. “You’re here now. That’s what matters.”
Emily nods and swallows thickly. She looks down at Emma, but directs her words at both her wife and the baby. “I’m here now.”