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From the moment Hotch tells JJ it’s time to let the team in on Emily, the pit of guilt in her stomach reaches a fever pitch. Up until now, she’s been doing her best to forget the lies she’s had to maintain, the web of guilt and deceit she’s tangled in. She’s spent months trying to suppress that sick feeling that wells up whenever she thinks about what she’s been made to do to protect Emily’s life. Who she’s been made to betray.
And now the time has come to pay the piper, and JJ is so damn tired. This job has cost her so much – and the sick thing is, she doesn’t think she could leave if she tried. She’s lost so much that it’s why she keeps coming back, because this all has to mean something. She can’t take the nightmares, the flashbacks, the hypervigilance, unless it means something. To Emily, she hopes that this meant something. To the rest of her team, she hopes they’ll be able to pick up the pieces when this news inevitably shatters them. Because JJ knows when this trauma brings the others together, she’ll be on the outside looking in. Because you are the trauma.
As much as she wants to blame Hotch for giving the order, she would have done anything to protect Emily. Even if it cost her everything. And standing with Hotch at the front of the room with her team staring at her, she braces for the impact when all she wants to do is sink through the floor. But Jennifer Jareau wasn’t raised to hide, so she forces herself to meet each team member’s eyes at Hotch explains exactly what they’ve done in his cold, analytical way. She wishes she’d insisted on delivering the news, even if she’s not sure she could have gotten through it without choking.
When silence reigns and the realization starts to sink in, the look on Penelope’s face almost does JJ in. “She’s alive?” She asks, eyes filled with tears.
“But we buried her,” Spencer says, his tone almost confused. He’s looking up at Hotch with the most trusting eyes, believing there must be some mistake, and JJ tries not to flinch like she’s been struck.
“As I said, I take full responsibility for the decision. If anyone has any issues, they should be directed toward me.” Of course that’s all Hotch will say. Of course he can’t – or won’t – address the trauma he’s just inflicted on the people they both love most. The trauma you’ve both inflicted, JJ’s mind fills in helpfully.
“Any issues?” Morgan asks, incredulous, his tone a challenge. “Yeah, I’ve got issues.” The anger is at least better than the utter devastation. But it’s gone in the next second as Emily makes her entrance, replaced with that same broken look the others are wearing. No one moves at first, as though Emily will disappear if they move or breathe.
JJ fights the sick feeling in her gut as she watches her team work through how to respond to Emily. Penelope is a ball of tears, clinging to Emily like a life raft. Spencer manages a hug but little else. But Morgan. He’s frozen to the spot, that shattered expression still on his face, and all JJ can think is that she let this man believe he’d watched Emily die for months, let him believe that he failed to save her life. JJ watches every moment of that trauma flash through Morgan’s eyes, and she’s never felt more guilt in her life. Whether Emily is alive or not, that agony will never leave him.
“Do you need me for anything else?” JJ asks. Her tone is an echo of Hotch’s now, cold and tight, and she desperately needs to get out of this room before the walls close in. She’s never felt so hated in a room filled with people she loves, and it’s like every inch of her skin is on fire. She doesn’t wait for Hotch’s answer before she’s running to the bathroom, locking herself in a stall and throwing up everything in her stomach. You betrayed them. JJ retches, long after there’s nothing left in her body to expel. They’re never going to heal from this. Tears pour down her face as she fights for control. Ten weeks of lying to Spencer’s face. Of watching Penelope try to put on a brave face. Of Morgan locking his emotions down, growing distant from the people he needed most. Ten weeks. JJ clamps a hand over her mouth, trying to stifle the sobs and the ragged breathing. She can’t let anyone hear her break down. Eventually, she’s going to have to face her team, knowing that they’ll never look at her the same again.
She allows herself one more moment of self-pity before pulling herself to her feet and fighting to get her breathing even. They’re never going to forgive you. Unlocking the stall door, JJ goes to the mirror and looks herself in the eyes. You don’t deserve it.