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She didn’t know which would break her first, the drugs, or the torture. Her arms ached from being chained overhead, each muscle screaming in agony as the hours dragged on. The relentless cold from the water blasted out of the fire hose seeped into her bones, leaving her shivering uncontrollably. But it was the waterboarding that was the worst. The suffocating pressure of the towel over her head, the panicked gasps for air as water flooded her airway – every moment felt like an eternity of drowning.
Her abdomen throbbed with a deep, burning pain from the electric shocks, each jolt leaving her muscles twitching involuntarily. The gag in her mouth dug into the corners of her lips, tiny cuts forming where the rough fabric scraped against her skin.
Despite the physical torment, she clung to the thought that she could remain strong. She had endured so much already; she could survive this too. But then came the injection. The needle pricked her skin, and within moments, her mind began to slip away. The world around her blurred, and she was thrust into a maelstrom of dreams and hallucinations.
In this drug-induced haze, memories she had buried deep began to resurface. Faces, voices, and moments from her past collided in a chaotic swirl. She saw the faces of those she had lost, heard the echoes of laughter and cries long forgotten. Each memory was a double-edged sword, cutting through her resolve.
The drugs twisted her sense of reality, making it hard to distinguish between past and present, dream and nightmare. She found herself reliving parts of her life that she had carefully locked away. The pain, the fear, the guilt – all the emotions she had tried to forget came rushing back with brutal clarity.
As she struggled to survive, her mind became a battlefield. Every painful memory was a blow to her psyche, every hallucination a new torment. She felt her strength waning, the lines between reality and illusion blurring. But even in the darkest moments, a flicker of defiance remained. She wasn’t just fighting the physical pain; she was fighting to hold onto herself, to not let the torture and drugs strip away her identity.
In the deepest recesses of her mind, she made a silent vow. No matter how much they hurt her, no matter how many times they tried to break her, she would hold onto that core of strength. She would endure. She would survive. And one day, she would be free.
***
It was Wednesday morning. She heard her mother calling, “Ros! JJ! Breakfast is going to be ready in ten minutes. Don’t be late for school.”
JJ tossed her covers aside, having overslept for once. Normally, her older sister Rosaline would wake her up, poking her in the side to make her giggle, but she hadn’t this morning. The last few weeks had been rough, listening to her father and sister fight about Ros’ boyfriend, and her father and mother fighting about Ros, so it was just easier to hide out in her room most of the time. The air in the house had felt thick with tension, every argument echoing in her mind long after the shouting had stopped.
Jumping out of bed, JJ hurried to the bathroom, her hand reaching out to turn the doorknob. It wasn’t locked, so she assumed Ros was getting dressed in her room. But when she opened the door, her life changed forever.
Rosalyn was in the bathtub they shared. Her honey blonde hair just visible above the rim. Her left arm outstretched, blood pooling on the tile floor from a wound JJ couldn’t see. The vivid red against the white tiles was a sight that would be seared into her memory.
She couldn’t turn away from it. Couldn’t call for help. Her feet were frozen in place, her mind numbing to the horror in front of her. All she could hear was the thumping of her heart as it beat a staccato inside her chest. The world around her seemed to fade away, leaving only the gruesome scene before her.
She didn’t know how long she stood there. Moments? Minutes? Hours? Time meant nothing. The scent of iron filled her nostrils, the sight of Ros’ lifeless body burned into her eyes. She felt a scream building in her throat but couldn’t force it out. The cold floor beneath her feet, the distant sounds of her mother bustling in the kitchen, all seemed to come from another world.
Her mind raced, a whirlwind of disbelief and sorrow. How could this have happened? Why hadn’t she noticed something was wrong? The questions battered her consciousness, each one a fresh wound to her heart. She wanted to run, to hide, to escape this nightmare, but she was rooted to the spot, a silent witness to her sister’s final moments.
In that eternal, agonizing stretch of time, she felt a part of herself shatter. The innocence of her childhood was ripped away, leaving a raw, gaping wound that would never fully heal. The memory of Ros in that bathtub would haunt her, a relentless ghost in her darkest dreams.
Her mother called for her daughters again, but JJ didn’t notice. Sandy Jareau’s feet were heavy on the stairs as she came to see what was taking her children so long to get dressed. The weight of each step mirrored the sinking feeling in her heart, a mother’s intuition whispering that something was terribly wrong. When she found her youngest daughter standing at the door of the bathroom, she couldn’t have imagined what was happening.
What she saw had her screaming for her husband, a raw, primal sound that echoed through the house. Dennis Jareau came running, his footsteps pounding like thunder. “JJ, move!” Dennis pushed her harder than he meant to, desperate to get to his oldest daughter. JJ fell to the floor, the cold tile shocking her senses as she pulled her knees up to her chest. Her right hand instinctively grasped the heart necklace Ros had given her just last night, the metal cool against her skin, a stark contrast to the chaos around her.
She stayed like that, curled into herself, as her father shouted for Sandy to call 911. His voice was strained, teetering on the edge of panic. But her mother was just as gone as JJ was, her eyes wide and vacant, trapped in the same nightmare. JJ barely heard the angry and desperate sound her father made as he rushed past them both to Ros’ room, grabbing her phone with trembling hands and calling for help.
JJ’s mind was a whirl of disjointed thoughts, each one colliding with the next. The warmth of Ros’s smile, the sound of her laugh, the comfort of her presence—all now tainted by the image of her lifeless body. She could hear her father’s frantic voice on the phone, the words blending into a blur of desperation.
Time stretched painfully thin, each second an eternity. The world outside continued to turn, oblivious to the devastation within their home. JJ’s breaths came in shallow gasps, each one a struggle, as she tried to process the unimaginable.
Through the haze, she felt her mother’s hand on her shoulder, a touch meant to comfort but too light to penetrate the numbness. JJ looked up, meeting her mother’s eyes. The same anguish reflected back at her, a shared sorrow that would bind them together in this moment forever.
As the sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder with each passing second, JJ knew their lives had irrevocably changed. The house that once echoed with laughter and love now stood as a testament to their loss, a silent witness to their grief.
***
EMTs, police officers, and firefighters flooded the Jareau house, their urgent movements a blur of uniforms and equipment. They rushed to Rosaline’s side but quickly determined it was too late. The stillness of her form told them all they needed to know. Two police officers led Dennis and Sandy down the stairs, into the kitchen, to understand what they knew about their oldest daughter’s state of mind.
Meanwhile, a young female cop bent down in front of JJ, who had been forgotten in the chaos. Her touch on JJ’s head was gentle but startling, breaking through the fog of shock enveloping the eleven-year-old.
“Are you hurt?”
JJ looked up at the officer, then down at her arms, noticing the slight scratches from when her father had pushed her. The sight of her own blood reminded her of Rosaline, still lying in the tub, just feet and a wall away. She wanted to cry, to shout, to yell at Rosaline for leaving her, but everything was bottled up inside. JJ was terrified that if she let it out, she’d never be able to control it again. It took her a moment to realize the woman in front of her had asked a question. When she did, JJ shook her head no.
“Why don’t we go downstairs for now.”
JJ allowed herself to be helped up and followed the officer down the stairs. Her parents were in the kitchen, sitting at the table, breakfast long forgotten as they spoke to the officers. JJ couldn’t hear what they were saying and didn’t really care. She allowed herself to be led to the living room sofa. She was shivering, maybe from the front door standing wide open, the strobing lights from the fire truck casting a red glow on the officer’s face. The woman grabbed an afghan from the back of the sofa and wrapped it around the girl. She pulled her knees upto her chest, the pressure holding back the great sobs that threatened to overtake her. The officer spoke soft, reassuring words, but JJ heard none of it.
The EMTs left, the medical examiner came, and after what seemed like forever, one of the detectives bent down in front of her. “Are you JJ?”
She nodded, and the man held out a sweatshirt and a note to her. It was Rosaline’s favorite. When JJ unfolded the note, her sister’s handwriting stared back at her.
“I love you, JJ. I’m sorry.”
Seeing these words sent her reeling. She threw off the blanket and raced out the door into the frigid morning. Neighbors stood on their porches, watching in silence, their curiosity palpable. JJ felt their eyes on her, each gaze a weight pressing down on her chest. She ran, trying to escape the unbearable reality of Rosaline’s final words, but no distance could free her from the pain now etched into her heart.
Her next-door neighbor, Mrs. Taylor, approached her, placing a gentle hand on JJ’s shoulder. The girl looked up, her face a mask of devastation. Without a word, Mrs. Taylor wrapped an arm around her, and JJ clung to her as if her life depended on it. She motioned to the officer at the door, indicating that she was taking JJ to her house.
Inside the warmth of Mrs. Taylor’s home, the woman noticed JJ had no shoes on. Her small feet were dirty, and she was shivering, her eyes vacant, lost in the traumatic dissociation from the chaos inside her house. Mrs. Taylor led her to a chair, gently sitting her down. Moments later, she returned with a pair of socks. Kneeling, she brushed away the dirt and dried leaves from JJ’s feet before slipping on the socks. JJ’s body continued to shake, the only sign she was aware of her surroundings.
Rosaline’s sweatshirt was still clutched tightly in JJ’s grasp. When Mrs. Taylor asked if she wanted to wear it, JJ nodded. The sweatshirt still held Ros’s scent, her perfume, her very essence embedded deep within the fibers. JJ closed her eyes and, for a moment, almost felt her sister’s arms around her, hugging her close. The thought made her sway, and Mrs. Taylor gripped her shoulders tightly before helping her to the sofa.
“Why don’t you rest for a while, JJ. You’re safe here.”
JJ nodded, lying down on the sofa. She closed her eyes, clutching the sweatshirt tighter, and within moments, she was fast asleep, escaping the unbearable reality, if only for a little while.
***
The next few days were a blur for the eleven-year-old. The church was packed with distant family and Ros’s friends, everyone in tears during the service. Everyone except JJ. She hadn’t cried once. She simply stared at her hands, clasped together in her lap. The words of their pastor couldn’t penetrate the fog around her as she concentrated solely on the pattern of her black dress. When it was time to stand, she stood. When it was time to walk, she followed her parents. In the limousine to the cemetery, she stared out the window, watching the world continue as if nothing was irreparably wrong.
After it was over, their house filled with too many people. Faces blurred into a sea of sorrow and condolence. They ignored her mostly, and she was glad. Once she was sure no one would notice, JJ slipped away to her bedroom. She hated climbing these stairs, passing the bathroom she once shared with Ros, passing the closed door that was now a shrine to everything her sister had been. In her room, she pulled Ros’s sweatshirt on, settling into the window seat, watching as people milled around in the front yard, saying their goodbyes, until no one was left in the house but the Jareau family. She heard noises downstairs, probably her parents cleaning up, but they didn’t come looking for her, and she didn’t care.
It was late when she finally came downstairs, wearing her pajamas and holding her toothbrush. She hadn’t been back in the shared bathroom since that day, and she never wanted to go in there again. Just thinking about it made her heart race, her hands clammy around the toothbrush handle, her breathing turning shallow. JJ fought to control it, desperate to shove her feelings down where no one could reach them. Once her breathing normalized, JJ went to the downstairs bathroom, completing her nightly routine. When she came out, she thought she heard noises from the living room.
It was dark, only the pale blue light of the television illuminating her father’s features. For a moment, she thought she heard him crying. She stood there, unsure of what to do. Go to him? Go back upstairs? But he decided for her.
Without even looking her way, he snapped, “Go to bed, Jennifer.”
The harshness in his voice cut through the numbness, stinging her more than she expected. She turned and retreated up the stairs, her father’s pain adding to the heavy weight of her own. Back in her room, she curled up in her bed, pulling Ros’s sweatshirt tighter around her, wishing she could disappear into its comforting scent.
***
It was only a few weeks later that her father left. For JJ, it was unexpected. She heard her parents fighting, mostly when they thought she wasn’t listening. Her mother blamed her father. Her father blamed her mother. JJ thought they probably both blamed her. If she’d been quicker to come get them, maybe Ros could have been saved. If she’d been a better sister, not always trying to hang around with Ros and her friends, maybe her sister would still be there today. But she had no idea her father was preparing to leave them.
The two of them waited for her to come home from school. It was a Wednesday afternoon, the school year creeping closer to an end as winter’s grip finally gave way to warm spring days. JJ dawdled on the way home, her backpack strap around one shoulder, her eyes on the road ahead of her, but her thoughts were, as always, far away from her present situation. She noticed her father’s car in the driveway and panic overtook her. He was never home this early, and JJ was very late. Her feet moved in double time, rushing across the lawn and up the stairs, yanking hard on the screen door.
They were both sitting there, neither of them talking, just staring at the squeal of the hinges, and JJ stopped in front of them, waiting for the yelling to begin.
“Sit down, Jennifer,” her father said. She did as she was told, dropping the backpack on the floor next to the armchair. She sat stiff-backed, her hands folding into her lap, ready for whatever punishment they decided to dole out. She’d forgotten what it felt like to be happy in this house. Was it really only a few short months ago that everything felt normal? Before her dad and Ros argued all the time. Before her mom and dad fought over Ros’s behavior? Before Ros started shutting her door, her voice low and sweet on the phone as she spoke to her boyfriend in secret?
JJ didn’t understand what was so bad about him, but her father was always angry. Until suddenly he was not. It seemed all the anger had dissipated with Ros’s death, and when she looked at him now, all JJ could see was the shell of a person who used to be her father.
Her mother’s voice broke the silence, trembling and uncertain. “Jennifer, your father… he’s leaving.”
JJ’s heart dropped. She stared at her parents, trying to make sense of the words. Her father leaving? What did that mean for her? For them?
“Leaving?” she whispered, her voice cracking.
Her father couldn’t meet her eyes. “It’s for the best,” he said, his voice hollow. “We all need time to heal, and I can’t… I just can’t do it here.”
Tears welled up in JJ’s eyes, but she blinked them back, refusing to let them fall. “But why now?” she asked, her voice rising. “Why leave now when everything’s already so…”
“Broken,” her mother finished for her, her own tears streaming down her face. “Because staying here is too painful for him. For all of us.”
JJ wanted to scream, to beg her father to stay, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, she just nodded numbly, her heart shattering into pieces.
Her father stood up, grabbing his suitcase from beside the chair. He paused, looking at her one last time, before heading towards the door. “Take care of yourself, Jennifer. I promise, I’ll see you soon,” he said softly, and then he was gone.
The sound of the door closing behind him was like a final nail in the coffin of her childhood. JJ sat there, staring at the empty space where her father had been, feeling more alone than ever.
***
The years passed slowly in that miserable house. JJ stayed out of it as much as possible. She joined the girls’ soccer team, playing on East Allegheny High School’s varsity team when she was just a freshman, and becoming the captain of her squad when she was a senior. She got straight A’s and a scholarship to the University of Pittsburgh, followed by receiving her master’s in communications at Georgetown University. By the time she started college, her father had a new family, and JJ rarely saw him.
Moving to Washington D.C. set her on the path that became her life. She’d seen David Rossi give a lecture about the FBI on the Georgetown campus, and she knew instantly where she belonged. When she joined the Behavioral Analysis Unit, she hadn’t realized at first that she’d found her family. Her skills at disassociating her emotions came in handy as she read file after file, deciding which cases her team worked on next, and it mostly didn’t get to her. JJ found the compassion she couldn’t give to herself was easily doled out to victims, their families, and really anyone who needed it.
It wasn’t until she met William LaMontagne Jr. that she even considered revealing any of the secrets that lived deep within her. She’d almost screwed up that relationship as well. She’d been so desperate for no one to see the heartbroken little girl that still lived inside of her, that she almost broke up with him when they encountered each other on a case in Miami. But, she realized that she wanted to be with Will. She wanted the world to know how much she loved him, and she finally broke that barrier that kept her from trusting anyone too much.
Being with Will was almost too easy. Except they were too far apart, with him in New Orleans and her in D.C. When she’d gotten pregnant, he surprised her by wanting to marry her right away and move to D.C. to be with her and their child, and while they hadn’t gotten married, their life was pretty great with their sweet, blonde-haired boy, Henry. JJ loved her family, loved her job, and had settled into a good routine. But in a world where nothing ever seemed to work out the way JJ expected, she was drafted away from the BAU into the State Department. She hadn’t wanted the job. Hadn’t wanted to leave the position that she was good at, with the co-workers who were more than family to her, but her wants were overridden, and too soon she was reporting to the State Department.
Her thoughts were starting to come back to the present, where her arms burned in protest at being held above her head, shackled together while she shivered in her still wet clothes. If it hadn’t been for the move to State, which had been a back stop to a code word classified project to catch Osama Bin Laden, she wouldn’t be here now. Wouldn’t know the man who was torturing her, and as if he knew she was thinking about him, Tivon Askari, the interrogation specialist and interpreter from Iraq, appeared in front of her. He gripped her face in his hand, looked her in the eyes, his voice growling, “Not yet.”
But at least, mercifully, he had one of his minions release the chains, and JJ fell to the ground. Her head swam from the sudden movement and the jolt of the concrete reverberated in her skull. She fought to stay conscious, her vision blurring as she tried to focus on the gritty floor beneath her. Every muscle in her body screamed in agony, but she clung to the one thing that kept her going: the faces of her loved ones. Henry’s innocent smile, Will’s unwavering support, and the camaraderie of her BAU family. She had to survive, if not for herself, then for them.
As her captor’s footsteps faded, JJ curled into herself, the cold seeping into her bones. She forced her mind to go blank, a trick she had perfected over the years. She couldn’t afford to think about the pain, the fear, or the hopelessness. She had to stay strong, to keep fighting, because giving up was not an option.
JJ’s thoughts drifted back to the people she loved, drawing strength from their memories. She had overcome so much in her life, and she wasn’t about to let this break her. Not now. Not ever.
***
It was hot and humid when she arrived at the U.S. Operations Camp, not knowing exactly why the State Department sent her to Afghanistan. The oppressive heat felt like an assault, wrapping around her like a heavy blanket as she stepped off the plane. The air was thick with the scent of dust and sweat, mingling with the faint, acrid smell of burning refuse.
At least not until she saw a familiar face. Section Chief Erin Strauss greeted her, introducing her to Matteo Cruz and CIA operative, Michael Hastings. JJ’s job was to interrogate Nadia Mubari, the wife of Savin Mubari, a high-level Bin Laden operative. The gravity of her assignment settled in her stomach like a lead weight. She watched as uniformed men escorted a frightened woman, clutching a small doll tightly in her arms, into a cell. The sight struck a painful chord in JJ, reminding her too much of the innocent victims she was used to consoling, not interrogating.
In her first meeting with Tivon Askari, he was introduced as an interpreter, and he seemed friendly enough, with an easy smile and a reassuring demeanor. JJ would have never guessed how wrong she was. Watching a woman crying and suffering, just because of who she was married to, didn’t sit right with her. This was not the kind of work she was trained for. The lines between right and wrong, black and white, blurred in the harsh realities of this war zone.
It didn’t take long for JJ to realize that Nadia would give them anything they asked if they could just rescue her daughter. She could see the desperation in Nadia’s eyes, a mother’s love willing to endure anything for her child. Once they got approval for the mission, JJ watched the monitor, heart pounding, as an extraction team breached the door, reporting that the little girl had been found. Relief was short-lived as moments later, muzzle flashes filled the screen, gunfire ringing out as the team was ambushed before communication was abruptly cut off.
JJ stared at the screen, one hand covering her mouth in horror before she turned away. Nadia’s daughter was dead. The extraction team was most likely killed as well. Her heart ached, guilt and despair mixing into a bitter cocktail that she swallowed down hard. This was her fault. She had convinced Cruz and Strauss to go ahead with the mission. The realization was a punch to the gut. She walked slowly out of the room with Cruz and Hastings following, no one saying anything, the silence heavy with shared grief and unspoken blame.
She dreaded telling Nadia that she’d gotten her daughter killed, but when they walked into her cell, they found Nadia dead. JJ felt her world tilt on its axis. Hastings had said, “This place changes people. I can’t imagine what it will do to someone like you,” and he was right. It had changed her in ways she could never have imagined. The air in the cell was stifling, the weight of her guilt almost unbearable.
Time went by but the guilt didn’t fade. She tried to make peace with it, tried telling herself that she couldn’t have prevented what happened, but the weight of responsibility hung heavy on her conscience, a relentless reminder of the lives lost. It was hard returning to Afghanistan after that, so much so, that she felt sick to her stomach when she landed. The familiar sights and sounds of the camp felt like a noose tightening around her neck, each step a struggle against the memories that haunted her.
She’d been so focused on her work that when the camp doctor told her she was pregnant, JJ was caught completely off guard. She and Will had been trying for a while, but it seemed that Henry was destined to be an only child. Until now. The news was a rare, bright spot in her otherwise bleak existence. She couldn’t contain her excitement when Matt Cruz entered the tent, sharing her good news with him, a genuine smile breaking through the cloud of sorrow that had been her constant companion.
A few moments later, Hastings appeared, his expression grim as he informed her she had a call from the BAU. Something was wrong with Emily. The joy she felt seconds ago evaporated, replaced by a cold dread. The camp, the mission, her pregnancy—everything faded into the background as her focus shifted to her team, her family, and the unknown crisis awaiting her.
***
JJ flew from Paris to Afghanistan, her heart heavy with the weight of secrets and grief. Emily was recovering from her injuries, safe for now, but everyone but JJ and Hotch believed Ian Doyle had killed her. Watching their grief, knowing she was lying, seeing an empty coffin buried in the ground was yet another burden she had to carry. She hated it. Hated lying to her friends, feeling the sting of betrayal with every interaction. It was a relief, albeit a grim one, to get back to the hunt for Osama Bin Laden. The urgency of the mission was a distraction, a way to channel her turmoil into something productive. But first, there were pressing issues that needed immediate attention.
There was a wolf in the herd, a traitor among them, and JJ had gotten permission for the operations team to be taken to an offsite location for their own enhanced interrogation. The tension was palpable as Cruz and Askari led the convoy in the lead Humvee, with JJ and Hastings right behind them. The desert heat seeped into the vehicle, the air thick and stifling, carrying the scent of dust and diesel. JJ’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, plans, and worries, but the sudden explosion jolted her into the present.
Smoke filled the vehicle as JJ tried to wake Hastings, her hands shaking as she patted his face. Panic clawed at her chest, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Then she saw him—the double agent. Tivon Askari was shooting at their men, his movements precise and lethal. The realization hit her like a punch to the gut, and without thinking, she opened the door, her weapon trembling in her grasp as she aimed at Askari. But before she could pull the trigger, Askari’s men pulled him away, the sound of gunfire overwhelming her senses.
Pain exploded in her body as a bullet tore through her side, and she collapsed onto the packed sand, the gritty texture pressing against her skin. Her vision blurred, the world tilting and spinning as she fought to stay conscious. The battle raged on around her, a cacophony of shouts, explosions, and the relentless bark of automatic weapons. Everything started to fade, darkness encroaching on the edges of her vision, and the last thing she remembered was the agonizing pressure in her chest and the taste of blood in her mouth.
When she woke, it was in a medical tent. Her hands and chin were scraped and bloody, an IV slowly dripping fluids into the tubing attached to her hand. For a moment, she couldn’t remember what had happened, her mind blank and disoriented. Then Cruz was there, his face grim and eyes haunted as he recounted the attack. Hastings had been taken by Askari’s men, but worst of all, her miracle baby had been lost.
The words hit her like a sledgehammer, knocking the wind out of her. She hadn’t even had a chance to tell Will yet. A deep, aching sorrow enveloped her, an all-consuming grief that threatened to swallow her whole. She felt numb, the pain so profound it was beyond tears. Her hand instinctively moved to her stomach, the loss echoing through her body and soul. All she wanted in that moment was to go home, to grieve for her lost child, to find solace in the arms of her family. But the relentless demands of duty held her captive, and the mission, with all its grim necessities, loomed over her like a shadow she couldn’t escape.
***
JJ didn’t tell Will when she got home. There was no reason to let him suffer through the same heartache she was. The weight of the secret was crushing, and she carried it alone, believing only one other person in the world knew what she’d endured. Or at least, that’s what she thought. Now, exhausted and on the verge of breaking, Matt Cruz convinced her to give up her code to the Integrity database. She keyed it in, adding the code word ‘Blackbird’ to the end—a signal to Emily, because she knew the team would call her.
Askari threatened to kill her if Cruz didn’t enter his code to Integrity, telling him that JJ would lose more than a baby this time. Even though she was exhausted from the torture, the memories, and the losses, JJ realized Askari wasn’t the inside man at the Operations Camp. She called out for him to come out and face her, and as if on cue, Michael Hastings walked through the door. She hated this man with every fiber of her being. He was a coward, a traitor, a murderer. He pulled on the chains, yanking her to her feet, her arms held overhead. He approached her, ranting to Cruz about a line he wouldn’t cross, while his hands roamed across JJ’s buttocks and down her thighs before he grabbed her face. He rubbed her stomach as he told her, “Maybe, I can make you another one.”
A wave of nausea washed over her. She wanted to scream, to fight back, but her brain was having trouble forming words. This couldn’t be happening. Not this. Hastings’ fingers worked quickly over the buttons of her shirt and down to her pants. She tried to tell Cruz she was fine, her voice breaking as she said the words. It was a lie, but he was the only thing standing between Hastings and Integrity. Cruz, being a man of honor, stopped Hastings, agreeing to enter his code to protect her. As data started downloading, the lights went out for a moment. Fear turned to hope as JJ prayed it was the BAU.
Hastings headed out to call for an extraction while Askari cleaned up after them. He slit the throat of one of his own operatives before stabbing Cruz in the stomach. JJ cried out for him to stop, but it was too late. When he came toward her, his eyes dark, the knife glinting in his hand, she knew this was it. He was going to kill her.
A shot came from behind JJ, startling her, but it was her team. They were here to rescue her. Hotch moved straight to Cruz while Emily helped uncuff her from her chains. JJ could barely stand, but as soon as Emily went to check on Cruz, a surge of adrenaline rushed through her. She was going to kill Hastings if it was the last thing she did. There was no way he was leaving this building with Integrity. Emily followed her, quickly understanding the mission and wanting to back up her friend.
They made it to the roof, Emily going first as JJ’s energy was giving out. But once she made it to the top, seeing the man who had taken so much from her brought it all back. She rushed toward him, kicking him with a roundhouse. They both tumbled to the ground, going over the edge of the roof, but suddenly Emily was there, grabbing her by the arms, saying, “I’ve got you.”
JJ was grateful to see her team. Grateful to be free. Her side ached from being electrocuted. Her cheek stung. Her thoughts were still swimming from the drugs. They took Matt to the hospital in one ambulance, and Hotch insisted JJ take another. Will met her there, and JJ clung to him like a lifeline. There were so many secrets. So much trauma she’d held inside, and he cried with her as she finally broke down, letting it all go.
***
The following evening, they gathered with the team at a bar, cherishing the final moments with Emily before her return to Interpol. JJ felt utterly drained, but Will’s comforting arm around her provided both physical and emotional support, anchoring her in a sea of turmoil. In that moment, JJ never wanted to release him, sensing his unwavering presence as a lifeline amidst the storm. She understood that healing would be a gradual process, a journey fraught with challenges, yet with Will, Emily, and her team by her side, JJ held onto a glimmer of hope. Despite the darkness that engulfed her, JJ dared to believe that this chapter of her life could transform her for the better.