Chapter Text
There was something so inherently off about the way she hugs her, that JJ almost lets go.
(Almost…)
Gone was the faint blush that dusted her cheeks or the flicker of nerves cutting through her normally sharp gaze. She didn’t tuck her face into the crook of JJ’s neck anymore — a simple comfort JJ had taken for granted.
It was just a hug.
Professional but not unkind.
Normal.
Friendly.
And then Emily pulled away first.
JJ’s hands lingered a fraction too long in the empty space between them.
That had never happened before. Emily was the one who used to hold on—just slightly, just enough to make it noticeable if you were paying attention. They’d used to joke that Emily was just like a koala, clinging on to JJ like she was her only salvation.
JJ swallowed, covering the moment with a small smile. “Hey.”
“Hey.” she echoed, smiled politely as she turned to answer something Morgan was saying.
And that was it.
No more lingering looks coupled with easy banter that just seemed to flow naturally — their special kind of connection reserved only for each other. They had just gone a full month without seeing, calling, or even texting each other, and now it felt like there was a gaping chasm between them.
So she stood there, waiting and watching as Emily held a conversation with everybody but her.
Because what could she do when her best friend suddenly became a stranger?
— — —
Emily was 100% fine.
She looked amazing, even.
Her hair was a little longer than before, dark waves brushing against her shoulders when she turned her head. The exhaustion that had settled into her features over the last few months had vanished completely. Her complexion looked healthier. Brighter. There was color in her cheeks again.
And she wasn't coughing.
Not once.
No clearing her throat after talking for too long. No subtle hand pressed against her chest when she thought nobody was looking. No moments where her expression tightened with discomfort before smoothing itself over again.
Whatever procedure she'd had had worked.
And JJ should have been relieved.
But judging by the way her stomach sank every time Emily looked past her instead of at her, relief was the last thing she felt.
Being the behavioural analyst that she was, JJ understood that logically, this was a major over-reaction. Emily had been gone for three weeks recovering from surgery. Of course things were a little different. They just needed time to settle back into their old rhythm.
Except…
They didn't.
Days became weeks, and weeks into a whole month, and Emily was still distant. Not in a way that called for any alarm bells to be set off, it was simply a small shift in her demeanor towards JJ.
She still smiled whenever JJ spoke. Still brought her coffee if she happened to be making one for herself. Still lingered after meetings to ask how Henry and Michael were doing.
She was kind.
Thoughtful.
Exactly the Emily everyone knew.
But that wasn’t her Emily.
She stopped brushing against JJ's shoulder as they squeezed past one another in the hallway. Stopped seeking her out on the jet, choosing whichever empty seat happened to be closest instead of automatically dropping into the one beside her. When they laughed together, Emily laughed the same way she did with Morgan, or Reid, or Garcia.
There was nothing special about it anymore. Nothing that was uniquely theirs. Best friends but nothing more.
JJ found herself waiting for something that never came.
One absent-minded touch.
One lingering glance.
Something to show that the old Emily was still inside there all along.
But there was nothing.
— — —
She looked so much happier.
JJ reminded herself of that every morning when she caught sight of her crossing the bullpen with a coffee in one hand and a case file tucked beneath the other arm.
She wasn't in pain. There was colour in her face now, an ease to the way she moved that hadn't existed for months. No more hiding her pain behind a quiet facade of concentration. No gasping coughs in the middle of the jet or subtle wiping at the corners of her eyes whenever she exited the bathroom.
So she should have been grateful, whatever had been wrong with her had been fixed — and that was all JJ had wanted.
For her best friend to be happy.
Wasn't it?
So why did something still feel so wrong?
— — —
The thought followed her home.
Lingering in the deepest recesses of her mind while she helped Henry with his homework and Michael fell asleep against her shoulder halfway through a movie. Even when Will talked about a contractor who'd finally returned his calls, all she thought of was Emily.
JJ still smiled when she was supposed to. Laughed at the right moments. Kissed Will goodnight before turning over in bed. But every moment in between somehow always drifted back to her.
To everything that had changed afterwards.
She couldn't pinpoint exactly when she'd started expecting Emily to be there.
Somewhere along the line, it had simply become second nature. When a meeting with the victim's family ran long, Emily would be waiting nearby with two cups of coffee and a soft smile (that used to be) reserved for her alone. If a case hit too close to home, she'd somehow appear beside, holding JJ close to try to soothe the blonde’s racing mind (in a way that Will never could). And on the days they landed after midnight, both exhausted and half-asleep, Emily would still walk her to her car before heading home herself (but not before driving JJ back first).
Yet somewhere along the way, Emily had woven herself so completely into the fabric of JJ's life that her presence became expected. And she’d never noticed any of her friend’s small sacrifices.
Until it was gone.
— — —
The house was quiet.
Will had fallen asleep hours ago with one arm slung across her side of the bed, exhaustion finally winning after another week of late shifts. Henry's bedroom door was cracked open just enough for the hallway light to spill across the carpet, and Michael's baby monitor emitted its familiar static hum from the kitchen counter.
JJ wandered through the silence without any real destination — too awake to sleep but too distracted to do anything actually productive. She made a mental checklist of everything that she should really be getting on with once she was done moping around. There was laundry waiting to be folded. A half-written report Hotch had requested her to submit the next morning.
And somehow, she found herself stopping in front of the bookshelf in the living room.
A familiar framed photograph sat at the very centre of the shelf.
A simple photo taken at one of Rossi’s infamous barbecues.
Henry was perched on Will's shoulders, grinning so broadly that his eyes had nearly disappeared. Will's arm rested loosely around JJ's waist while Michael, still impossibly small then, slept peacefully against her chest.
Around them, the rest of the team was doing what they always did.
Morgan was joking around with Reid, laughing at something that had been said by the boy genius. Garcia somehow was simultaneously dancing the polka and drinking a glass of wine. Hotch wore his signature long-suffering (but fond) expression at their antics.
And Emily was standing just behind JJ, watching her with that indescribable look of warmth that she always used to have.
It was a good picture.
Her perfect, happy family.
Yet something about the photograph felt... incomplete.
JJ frowned.
She studied every familiar face again, searching for whatever had unsettled her.
Will.
Henry.
Michael.
Everyone she loved most in the world was right there.
Everything she had ever wanted.
Everything she had chosen.
So why—
Her eyes drifted back to Emily's smile.
For one impossible, fleeting moment, her mind betrayed her.
Short hair turned long.
Blue eyes turned brown.
And Emily now stood where Will had been instead.
The image disappeared as quickly as it had come.
(But somehow it had been engrained in JJ’s mind forever.)
Her breath caught and she closed her eyes, willing that cursed picture to disappear. When she opened them again, the photograph was exactly as it had always been.
Will.
Henry.
Michael.
Emily standing behind them, smiling as if nothing had happened.
JJ set the frame back on the shelf with hands that felt strangely unsteady.
She didn't understand why tears had gathered in her eyes. Didn’t understand why despite having everything she'd ever wanted, she couldn't shake the feeling that she'd lost something a thousand times more important.