Work Text:
Emily doesn’t know what possessed her to do this.
She stares at the small mosaic window ahead of her. Muted, warm yellow light shines out into the evening through the coloured panes. A welcoming gesture; an invite to knock on the door and be allowed inside to find reprieve from the chilly fall weather, and yet Emily’s feet are glued to the pavement beneath them.
Her lungs pull in a deep, measured breath, filling with crisp air in hopes of easing the strange feeling. This… trepidation. She hitches her purse further up her shoulder, ignoring how it still digs into her aching muscles through her coat.
It’s another minute – every second counted silently in her head – until she finally walks the last of the stepping stones towards the ground floor apartment and lifts a finger to ring the doorbell. A shrill yet muffled sound instantly rings through the hallway beyond the door, and she retracts her hand as if burnt, shifting the box from the crook of her elbow back into her grip.
There is no time or space for doubt now. Inside the apartment a door opens, thudding against a wall, the mosaic brightening with an influx of light. A shadow appears, its contours growing sharper with quiet footsteps until the deadbolt slides, the lock clicks and the door swings open.
JJ’s surprise shows plainly on her face the second Emily appears in her sight. She is quick to recover, though, a warm but confused smile gracing her face, blue eyes lighting up as she takes Emily in.
“Emily.” JJ lets go of the door’s edge. The sleeves of her oversized sweater slide down across her palms and she wraps her arms around her middle. She cocks her head, and the short strands of hair that have escaped the claw clip at the back of her head brush along her chin.
God, she looks beautiful.
Emily swallows and wets her lips. “Hi.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I—” Emily starts, then stops, the words caught in her throat. Her hands tighten around the paper box, the crisp edges creasing with the force. She eases her hold, but the wrinkles remain. “I brought cookies. And wine.”
It doesn’t answer JJ’s question, or explain the situation at all, but she takes Emily’s strangeness in stride like only she can. She nudges the door open further with her shoulder, her body twisting and giving way to space in invitation. “Come in.”
Emily’s boots unstick from the pavement without prompting, stepping across the threshold. JJ takes the box of cookies from her with a wordless question and a delighted hum when she spots the bakery’s logo, allowing Emily to unzip her boots and coat, leaving them at the coatrack. The door locks with a definitive click, JJ’s deft fingers sliding the deadbolt back into place.
They manoeuvre past a set of moving boxes that appear to have found a permanent home beside the half-bath’s door, and into the living room. Emily lets her gaze travel, finding not much has changed since the housewarming Penelope had organised for JJ early into the move, except it has obviously been more lived in since then.
The space no longer smells like fresh paint or the new-wood scent of the bookcase Luke had helped JJ build because it better fits the space than the one she had in her old house. The shelves’ contents have been rearranged to some system JJ made up, dust now settled across the books and photo albums and collection of picture frames. A thick, patterned quilt is draped across the lone armchair; fresh laundry tipping from an overfilled basket right beside it, straight onto the rug. Pillows on the ground in front of the coffee table with two empty plates evidence a TV dinner.
Henry obviously isn’t here, but Michael is, curled up in a corner of the couch. He looks up from his game when they enter, question in his eyes as JJ heads to put the cookies atop the kitchen counter.
“Hi,” Emily greets once again.
“Hi,” he echoes back.
She offers him a friendly smile and receives a shy, crooked one in return. God, she doesn’t think she’ll ever get over how much he looks like JJ. Or how much he seems to grow, with every time she sees him.
Michael looks away from her and unfurls from his spot, his Switch set down in his lap as he cranes his neck. “Mom?”
JJ turns from the kitchen counter. “Yes?”
“Do you need to go to work?”
“Emily is just here for a visit,” JJ says, but her eyes still flicker to Emily’s for the confirmation that this is a social call.
A stone appears in Emily’s stomach. She clears her throat. “Yes,” she confirms.
Michael stares at her for a minute. He ultimately accepts her word with a shrug and a quiet, “Okay,” before turning back to his game.
JJ shares a smile with Emily that glows with her quiet love for him, and Emily tries not to linger on the fact that there used to be someone else she could share that with.
She joins JJ at the kitchen counter, taking her purse off her shoulder and revealing the wine she had brought for the occasion. It’s a little more expensive that JJ’s usual brands, but Emily figures it’s just enough of a luxury to make it a treat and not enough to make JJ uncomfortable at the thought of drinking it on a weekday night.
JJ accepts the bottle to inspect the label with an uptick to her lips.
“Sound good?” Emily checks.
JJ looks up. “Perfect.” She turns the bottle around in her hands once more and sets it down next to the box of cookies. “Certainly better than the grocery store white that was waiting for me in the fridge.” The dim kitchen light perfectly catches the twinkle of humour in her eyes.
Emily swallows, once, before allowing a smile to press into her face.
For just a moment, time seems to stretch infinitely, until JJ breaks eye contact and twists to consider the messy counter tops. She throws Emily an apologetic look. “If I’d known you were coming, I’d have tidied up a little.”
It’s far from an accusation, and still all reassurances die on Emily’s tongue. She couldn’t care less about JJ’s mess, yet she stays silent as JJ collects the stray bowls and cups that litter the marble counter and puts them in the sink. JJ casts a glance around the room and wanders over to the coffee table for the remnants of tonight’s dinner, piling the plates and cutlery in her hands.
Michael puts his game aside to help her. “I can do the dishes,” he says earnestly.
“That’s okay,” JJ says, allowing him to add a crumpled-up napkin to the pile before straightening up with a wince, rolling her shoulders. She twists to check the clock. “I’ve got it for tonight. I think it’s about time for you to go take a shower and brush your teeth, though.”
Michael’s face scrunches up for a second, clearly unhappy about the turn of events. “Can I continue my game after?” he asks.
But JJ shakes her head. “You’ve had more than enough screentime today, bud.”
“Please,” Michael presses, mouth turning down into a pout. Emily has to fight a smile. “I’m almost done with this level!”
“And it’ll still be there, waiting for you when you get back from school tomorrow,” JJ says rationally. She motions her head at the docking station on the TV console. “Go put it away.”
“It’s not even bedtime yet,” he whines.
“You can read your comics until it’s time to turn off your light.” JJ catches the napkin that threatens to fall from the pile of dishes without taking her eyes off Michael. It doesn’t take long for him to fold under JJ’s gaze and nod his begrudging assent. JJ softens. “I’ll come by to say goodnight. Okay?”
Michael trudges towards the TV console and JJ returns to the kitchen with the last of the dirty dishes.
“Our dishwasher broke,” she shares with Emily as she sets everything down in the sink. “I’m hoping it can be fixed, but no one is available to come and take a look at it until next week, at the earliest.”
Emily pulls a sympathetic face. “At least it didn’t explode this time?” she offers, half-joking.
JJ’s brows crease in confusion as she pushes her sweater up to her elbows and turns on the tap to quickly rinse away the worst of the food residue. “Explode?” Once she’s satisfied, she crouches down to retrieve the dish soap and brush from the cupboard under the sink.
Emily plucks the kitchen towel from the oven door handle, rubbing a thumb across the faded checkered pattern. “Remember your apartment with that ancient landlord? Your dishwasher had been making weird noises, and he said that he had fixed it, but the seal still broke.”
JJ had called Emily in a panic after work, having come home to a flooded kitchen. Emily had driven halfway across town without a word to help her mop up the worst of it and offered her moral support in getting the landlord to send someone down who actually knew what they were doing.
JJ lights up with recognition and sets the scrub brush down. “Oh my god, you’re so right! That was such a nightmare.” She shakes her head, and more hair escapes her claw clip. “I can’t believe I’d totally forgotten about that.”
Emily can. It would have been around the same time that JJ had started talking to Will, though she hadn’t said she was. JJ’s life had been shifting to accommodate another person. To flying away on weekends, to dating and late-night phone calls and falling in love.
Though part of Emily had grown smaller, melancholy, she had been content enough to watch JJ glow and find happiness on the other side of the country.
She hadn’t really understood her feelings until it was years too late.
For a moment, the only sound in the kitchen is that of the water, and of the dishes clinking in the sink as JJ washes them. She passes Emily a dripping cup to dry and her hands go to work on auto-pilot. It’s a smooth system, with the two of them, years of familiarity clearly lending itself to simple tasks like these as much as profiling.
When JJ sets about scrubbing a more stubborn pot, Emily leans back against the counter to watch her work. Tendons flex underneath her sun-freckled skin, a concentrated look on her face as she scrubs harder. Her sweater threatens to slide back down her bare arms with the vigorous movement and Emily crowds closer without thinking, tugging the sleeves back up, safely out of reach of the water.
JJ smiles, her eyes flickering to Emily in a wordless thanks.
They’re halfway through the dishes when JJ glances back across her shoulder. She immediately quirks a stern brow, and Emily is helpless to follow her line of sight to Michael, who looks an awful lot like a deer in headlights, sitting frozen in front of the TV console, his Switch still very much in his hands, the screen casting a white glow on his face.
“Michael LaMontagne—”
“I’m going!” Michael hurries to say, turning his game off and placing it on the docking station, not knowing how fast to get to his feet. “I was just—” JJ tilts her head, unimpressed. “Never mind.”
“I thought so,” JJ says. She nods her head towards the hallway door. “Go. Now, please.”
Michael sighs his displeasure, but despite his long face he still passes by Emily to give JJ a tight hug. He waves at Emily and says a muttered goodbye before disappearing to his bedroom. Emily replies a second late, hands clenching uselessly in the damp kitchen towel, trying to remember the last time either of JJ’s boys had felt comfortable enough to hug her, too.
She’s far too familiar to be a stranger, but she isn’t family.
The thought lingers as they finish the dishes and JJ grabs them two sparkly clean wine glasses, handing Emily the bottle opener from the kitchen drawer. Emily uncorks the bottle with practiced movements, following JJ to the couch and pouring them both a glass of the rich red wine.
She is just settling at one end of the couch, glass in hand, when JJ leaves hers on the coffee table with a quiet oh, wait and returns to the kitchen for the box of cookies.
“I had them pack an assortment,” Emily offers uselessly, setting her wine down on the side table. “Their most popular items, and of course—”
“Their triple chocolate-chip,” JJ finishes, smile widening as she opens the box. “God, these are heavenly.” She takes a cookie and breaks it in half, holding the other half out to Emily. “Share one with me?”
Emily gingerly takes it, a dusting of crumbs instantly collecting in her palm. She cups her other hand underneath it to minimize the mess, jostling lightly as JJ curls up on the cushions next to her, legs tucked underneath her body.
JJ takes a bite and her eyes close with a pleased hum. The sound settles warmly behind Emily’s ribs, the accompanying feeling nestling itself beside her heart.
“As good as you remember?” Emily asks.
JJ chews and swallows, swiping stray crumbs from her lips before answering. “Somehow better, which I didn’t think was possible.”
She leans forward to pick up her wine glass, jokingly presenting it to Emily and waiting patiently for her to grab her own to clink them together in a quiet, cheers.
Emily lifts her glass to her lips, taking a sip before biting into the soft, gooey cookie. It is good. The chocolate pairs nicely with the wine she had picked for the occasion, melting and melding dark and rich on her tongue.
Silence settles as they continue to sip their wine.
Emily twists the delicate stem of her glass between her fingers. Despite the silence, she isn’t grasping for conversation. There is plenty she could discuss with JJ, endless topics she could bring up, but despite their physical closeness, Emily finds her focus drifting. Finds herself considering where she finds herself, and why. Why she’s here now, when it’s been so long since she visited JJ just for the sake of visiting.
They barely do this anymore. Haven’t, for a while.
The truth is, they’re not as close as they used to be, before. Before Emily became Unit Chief and Section Chief, before COVID, before the team started to be split up in the name of efficiency more often than not. The time and space they share has become few and far between.
It didn’t happen overnight, is the worst of it. It happened slowly, quietly throughout the years, slipping through Emily’s fingers unnoticed. And now…
Now they barely see each other outside of work or Big Life Events (birthdays, funerals and going-off-to-college parties). And it hasn’t been just the two of them for years, with one singular exception, weeks after Will’s death when JJ had called Emily crying in the dead of night. Emily had come running without question to sit beside her much like they are now, unable to offer anything but her steady presence, and realising that for once, that was exactly what JJ needed.
JJ finishes the last of her cookie and carefully tugs the quilt off the nearby armchair, balancing her glass in her other hand. She drapes the quilt across her lap, settling into its comfort before sipping at her wine again, her lips briefly staining a darker red in the dim lighting.
Emily is helpless to track the movement.
She wants to ask the universe where she went wrong, but the truth is that she knows. She can pinpoint with scary clarity the events, the moments and choices that led her here. That led her to being an absent friend. A helpful colleague. A decent boss.
That led her to being the kind of person who makes sure they can afford to spare a profiler or two for a weekday move or a college drop-off, while knowing it means she herself can’t afford to join.
The wine’s tart undertone sharpens with her next mouthful.
Emily clears her throat. “How’s Henry?”
“Still regretting that he decided to go to a party last weekend instead of studying for his midterms,” JJ says drily. She heaves a sigh and scrubs a hand across her face before draining her glass. “I’m hoping the experience and stress is a lesson in and of itself. At least he insists that he didn’t drink.”
“No better way to learn, probably,” Emily says. “From the sound of it, he’s at least a lot less rebellious than I was when I went off to college. And I turned out alright.”
Having been raised all over the place, teen-Emily had been a lot less concerned with the US’s age limit on alcohol consumption. Or any rules, really.
JJ quirks her head. “You, rebellious?” she asks with poorly hidden amusement. “I can’t imagine.”
Emily bites the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. “I know, right. Such a preposterous idea.”
JJ’s shoulders slowly drop as her moment of laughter passes, her back pressing further to the soft couch cushions. “I just—” She wets her lips. “I just worry about him, is all.”
“I know you do,” Emily says. “He’ll be home this weekend?”
JJ nods. She glances around the living room, as if imagining him already here, and Emily watches with a growing heaviness in her gut. It must be a strange balance to find, to miss a child this badly and still give them space to grow and explore the world.
“Pour me another?” JJ finally asks, setting her empty glass beside the bottle. “I’m going to tell Michael to turn his light off.”
Emily tops up both their glasses and sinks back against the couch cushions. It is strangely quiet, suddenly, without JJ at her side. She finds her focus drifting through the living room, considering the possessions and pictures and reminders gathered across decades.
One of Henry’s earliest artworks sits proudly framed atop a shelf, the bright-coloured marker streaks having long since faded, and a lump appears in Emily’s throat.
It’s just… JJ has built so much, outside of work. She has built a family, a life, one that still intertwines with the BAU, but doesn’t orbit it like Emily’s tends to do.
And Emily knows that she’s maintaining an unhealthy balance. That this way of living is unsustainable, and that it might very well someday be the death of her. She just no longer knows where to start to fix it.
(She looks at Rossi sometimes, and imagines herself twenty, thirty years on, still churning through the same habits, the same work, and feels nothing but a gaping emptiness at the thought.)
A door shuts, the sound muted through the walls, and JJ returns to the living room just seconds later. She settles comfortably on the couch, turning towards Emily, a soft smile gracing her lips. “Michael said to tell you goodnight.”
Emily’s heart pangs.
“And,” JJ says, leaning her elbow atop the back rest, head resting against her palm. “He made me promise we wouldn’t finish all the cookies.”
The laughter that creeps up Emily’s throat startles her so much she presses a hand to her mouth to keep it contained.
“I made him no promises,” JJ continues with a glint in her eyes.
Emily lowers her hand. “There’s enough for everyone.” She glances between the box and JJ with a mock-doubtful quirk to her brow. “I hope so, at least.”
It’s JJ who laughs this time, the corners of her eyes wrinkling with easy joy, and Emily vows not to let her mind drift again tonight.
They pick up the conversation and talk for longer than they have in a long time, the wine loosening the conversation. A light rosiness rises to JJ’s cheeks with time, her laughter just that bit louder. It’s familiar, predictable in a way that loosens the knot in Emily’s chest, unfurling inch by inch and blooming with warmth.
A warmth that spreads through the rest of her body when they finally migrate closer together, their shoulders brushing.
When they both fall silent for a moment, JJ tilts sideways until she’s inevitably leaning into Emily. Her cheek rests against Emily’s shoulder, her hair brushing Emily’s neck, and Emily loosely wraps an arm around her back. For just a moment, she closes her eyes and finds herself back on JJ’s shitty old apartment couch; on Penelope’s floor; atop a creaky bed hidden away in Paris.
The illusion dissipates when JJ lifts her head.
Emily blinks and slowly retracts her arm, a shiver tingling down her spine. She takes a deep breath and shifts with a wince, her position no longer as comfortable with older bones and creaky knees and a back that’s feeling the effects of half a life of running around the country and sleeping on shitty hotel beds.
Even that has changed, recently. These days work is less in-person consults and more desk work, online correspondence and virtual meetings.
She sleeps at home the majority of the time now. At her apartment in town. A place that is beautifully furnished, has shiny, working appliances, plenty of room and very little found lacking, and yet—She sticks around at the office when she can find an excuse to do so more often than not.
Her place is nothing like JJ’s. Emily’s not sure she ever learnt how to build a home. How to belong somewhere.
(And it’s too late, now. She is too set in her ways, too used to not having that comfort. You can’t miss what you’ve never had, right?)
Emily shifts again to soothe her twinging muscles and glances around the room, knowing she doesn’t really belong here, either. Though she still has a place in it, she no longer fits in JJ’s life as she once did.
She swallows and glances down at the wine still swirling at the bottom of her glass. “I’m sorry.”
When she looks up, she finds JJ is studying her with surprise. “What for?”
It’s such an integral part of Emily’s job now. Putting her thoughts into words, sharpening her sentences so people listen and understand, and yet, here she stumbles. Outside of her role of Unit Chief, she is out of her depth. She eventually settles on, “Bothering you this late,” half-joking, a wry smile on her lips in strange self-preservation.
And JJ—
JJ sees straight through it. Despite the pleasant haze of the wine, her eyes flicker sharply across Emily’s face. A sensation simultaneously familiar and haunting. “I’m glad you did.”
Emily reluctantly turns back to her glass to escape the barrage of emotion that threatens at the honesty that shines through in JJ’s voice. The last of her wine goes down smoothly, but does nothing to ease the feelings swirling inside her chest.
“Emily?”
She lifts her head in an instant.
JJ’s smile is tinged with sadness. “I’ve missed you.”
There’s a lot Emily could say. We live in the same city. We see each other every day, we talk over our morning coffee, share meals in the roundtable room, wave goodbye before we head home, you texted me two hours ago, I’m right here—
But that’s not what JJ means.
“I’ve missed this, too,” Emily confesses, and hope blooms in JJ’s eyes.
It isn’t a fix, but it’s a start.