Work Text:
The house was already trashed when the team arrived at the suspect’s residence. Papers were scattered, furniture overturned, and the back door was hanging off its hinges. Somewhere inside, a kid had called 911 before the line went dead.
JJ moved fast, leading with her flashlight and weapon. Morgan was just behind her, covering the opposite side.
“JJ—left side,” Morgan called out as they moved through the narrow hallway.
A scuffling sound came from the living room, followed by a loud crash. The suspect was mid-sprint toward the back when JJ caught sight of him—and the girl. Maybe thirteen. Shaking, barefoot, and cornered near the fireplace.
“FBI! Don't move!” JJ shouted, stepping forward, body angled protectively in front of the girl.
The man lunged—not toward the girl, but toward JJ. His shoulder rammed into her, catching her off-balance. Her head clipped the brick edge of the hearth as she went down hard.
“JJ!” Morgan shouted, gun raised, moving in fast. The suspect was on the ground two seconds later, Morgan's knee in his back, cuffs snapping on. JJ was already pushing herself up.
“I’m fine,” she said automatically, voice tight. She reached for the girl, who was crying now but unhurt. “Hey, it’s okay, come on. Come to me, sweetie.”
Morgan crouched beside JJ, frowning. “You hit your head.”
“Just a knock. I’m good.” She smiled at the girl, carefully keeping the hand she wasn’t using to brace herself from shaking. “Let’s get you outside, okay?”
Morgan didn’t buy it, not entirely, but she was steady on her feet. And there was still work to do. After they got the girl outside and back to her parents, who had been waiting behind the S.W.A.T. agents like they were caged in, everyone relaxed a fraction. The girl was safe and unharmed, which was a good day for all of them.
Morgan was the only one who caught how JJ squinted at the sunlight as they got into the car. He didn’t say anything, but kept an eye on her as they filed their paperwork back at the station. She seemed okay, but Morgan knew how fast that could turn if she had a head injury.
Later that night, the team filed into their rooms at the hotel. A few doors down from Morgan, Rossi was still on the phone with the local PD. Reid’s light was still on behind his curtain, but most of the team had turned in.
Hotch was at the small table in his room, going over reports by the light of the desk lamp. The knock on the door was firm but low.
“Come in.”
Morgan stepped inside, still in his jacket.
“Emily’s right, man- do you ever sleep?” he asked with a slight smirk.
Hotch looked up, trying to hide a small smile. “What do you need?”
Morgan lingered a second, sobering quickly. “I wanted to flag something. About JJ.”
Hotch’s expression shifted as he set the file down.
“She hit her head earlier, during the scuffle when she got that kid out. I didn’t see the whole thing, but I saw her go down. Hard.”
Hotch was quiet.
“I asked if she was okay. She said she was fine,” Morgan added, leaning against the wall. “But you know her. Hell, you know how any of us are. She’d say she was fine with a broken leg and a knife in her side. And I don’t think she got herself looked at, either.”
Hotch let Morgan’s words settle over the room.
“She steady on her feet?” Hotch asked finally.
“Yeah. But I think the light was bothering her earlier. Can’t be sure, though. I tried to check her, but she brushed me off, so I figured you should know.”
Hotch nodded once, small but decisive. “Thank you for saying something.”
Morgan gave him a look. “You gonna talk to her?”
Hotch didn’t answer right away. He picked the file back up, eyes scanning the page but not really reading it.
“I’ll handle it.”
Morgan nodded, pausing at the door. “I’m not saying pull her. Just… keep an eye.”
Hotch’s reply was quiet but firm. “I always do.”
***
Hotch knocked on JJ’s door just after midnight.
JJ glanced up from her laptop, blinking against the screen’s glow. Her head throbbed, dull and persistent, like a heartbeat behind her eyes. She crossed the room and opened the door to find Hotch, dressed down but still somehow put-together. He held a file in one hand.
“Sorry,” he greeted. “I need clarification on your report. Shouldn’t take long.”
JJ blinked, momentarily thrown. “Yeah, sure. Come in.”
Hotch stepped inside, glancing over the items she still had piled on the side table- her laptop, case folders, and caffeine. JJ moved to sit at the table again, motioning for him to do the same. Hotch didn’t open the file right away.
“You still working?” he asked.
JJ gave a soft, tired laugh. “Aren’t we all?”
Hotch nodded, still quiet. JJ tapped at the laptop.
“I was cleaning up the timeline,” she said. “We may have saved another victim today, but this is a mess—locations overlapping, statements that don’t match. I figured I’d knock some of it out before tomorrow.”
Hotch opened the file he’d brought with him, flipping to a page with a post-it stuck near the middle. “The location you listed for the second victim’s body—was that based on Garcia’s recon or the coroner’s report?”
JJ squinted at the question. “Uh… Garcia’s. No—wait, sorry, it was the coroner’s. I remember because I made a note…”
JJ trailed off as she flipped through a paper next to her. The page she seemed to be looking for wasn’t there. Her notes skipped from one victim to the next.
Hotch waited. JJ frowned harder, blinking like the page would reappear. “I… I must’ve… maybe I didn’t write it down?”
Hotch’s voice didn’t rise. “You’re misremembering minor details, something you’ve had perfect recall on for two days straight.”
She laughed again, trying to play it off. “Wow, I’m tired.”
“Or concussed,” Hotch said frankly. “I heard you hit your head earlier.”
JJ froze for a second. “I told Morgan I was fine,” she said slowly.
“You told him. Not me,” Hotch countered.
“I’m telling you now. I’m fine,” she said with a slight edge in her voice, asking Hotch to drop it. “It’s a headache, Hotch. Not a concussion. I’d know.”
Hotch held her gaze for a beat longer, then nodded slowly. “Okay.”
He closed the file, but didn’t move to leave right away. JJ looked down at her laptop, fingers still on the keyboard, though she hadn’t typed a word since he arrived. After a moment of what seemed to be some internal debate, Hotch stepped toward the door, then paused, his hand on the knob.
“Get some rest, JJ. Shut that down for tonight.”
“Hotch—”
“Not a suggestion,” he said firmly, but his voice held a hint of warmth as he let himself out.
***
The next morning, the local precinct was already buzzing by the time the team came in. JJ had a coffee in one hand and sunglasses on despite the overcast sky. The team gathered in the conference room, with various maps and photos still pinned up from the night before. Reid was rattling off geographic profiles, Garcia had video call access to street cams, and Rossi was updating the list of known associates.
JJ leaned forward, elbows on the table, her chin resting lightly on her knuckles.
“JJ,” Hotch said. “You’re following Garcia’s feed, right?”
JJ looked up too fast, snapping her head up off her hands. “Yeah—yeah, I was just checking the victim profiles against her list.”
JJ picked up her file, flipping through the pages that Hotch had already seen her go through earlier. He didn’t say anything, but kept his gaze on her for a moment. When they broke to split up leads twenty minutes later, Hotch stepped in front of her before she could follow Morgan out.
“You’re riding with me,” he said lightly.
JJ raised an eyebrow. “Since when do we partner up?” she asked suspiciously.
“Since now,” Hotch countered with a tone of finality as he walked past her.
JJ didn’t argue, but her posture stiffened. She knew she was being watched, and she didn’t like it.
The drive was short, only ten minutes to a nearby warehouse, where a former associate of the suspect worked maintenance. JJ sat silent in the passenger seat with a hand wrapped tightly around her coffee cup. Hotch didn’t push her to talk.
When they pulled in, she flinched at the sound of a passing siren. Hotch didn’t say anything, but kept a mental note. They walked the site, asked a few questions, and were on their way out when JJ started to fall behind during their final loop of the property. Not much—just enough to make Hotch stop and wait for her.
“You alright?” he asked, voice even.
“Just didn’t sleep well,” she muttered.
He didn’t answer, just started walking again, slower this time.
***
Back at the precinct, Hotch stayed near the board in the small conference room, letting JJ settle across the room with a new round of case files. He didn’t need to hover around her- he knew she wouldn’t appreciate that. Plus, he was able to discreetly keep an eye on her from where he was.
It wasn’t until JJ reached for her phone and knocked over a cup of pens that he moved. She apologized under her breath and knelt to pick them up, but her fingers were clumsy, and she fumbled a few times before getting a solid grab. Hotch was already crossing the room when he saw her sway as she stood.
“JJ,” Hotch called sharply.
JJ didn’t answer. She blinked a few times, slow and unfocused as she leaned on the edge of the table. Then suddenly, her knees buckled.
“Whoa!”
Hotch caught her before she hit the ground, one arm steadying her head to make sure she didn’t smack into the table.
“Alright,...easy, JJ…”
Hotch’s other arm came around her back as he eased her into a chair and crouched down beside her.
“Are you alright?” Hotch asked, surprise and concern lacing his tone. JJ’s eyes fluttered open, then rolled slightly before drifting shut again.
“JJ, come on,” Hotch said again, sharper this time. “Open your eyes.”
JJ blinked once, then twice with cloudy eyes. Finally, she looked at him, but the recognition in her eyes was delayed.
“Hotch?” JJ’s voice was thin.
“Right here,” Hotch said, shifting slightly so he could assess her better. His voice was firm and anchoring, yet soft with newfound concern. “Look at me.”
JJ met his gaze for a few seconds before her eyes slipped sideways again, dazed.
Hotch looked out across the precinct quickly, hoping someone else from his team was back from checking in with leads. As quickly as the thought came, he saw Reid turn around the corner.
“Reid!” he barked, voice slicing through the room. Reid turned sharply at the sound of Hotch’s voice, his brow furrowing in alarm when he saw him kneeling beside JJ in the conference room off the main area. He rushed over to them.
“What happened? Is she okay?” Reid asked, his voice raising an octave as he gave JJ a once-over before flicking his eyes back to Hotch.
“She’ll be fine, but I need you to call medical. She nearly passed out, and she didn’t get herself checked after her incident yesterday. Keep it quiet if you can.”
Reid nodded worriedly. “Yeah, of course.” He glanced back at JJ once more before rushing from the room.
With Reid getting help, Hotch turned his full attention back to JJ.
“Hey,” Hotch guided, tone calm but edged. “Tell me what day it is,” He leaned in closer when she didn’t respond. “JJ. Eyes on me.”
Finally opening her eyes again to meet Hotch’s gaze, JJ frowned. “Uh… Thursday?”
“It’s Tuesday,” Hotch said quietly.
“Oh,” JJ said softly, a note of distress in her tone.
“Do you know where we are?” Hotch pressed, checking her pupils. JJ turned her head away slightly.
“I was… working…precinct…”
“Good,” Hotch said softly, relieved that she at least had some recall. “You remember who I am?”
That finally got a weak smile. “Aaron Hotchner,” she said cheekily. “Supervisory pain in my ass.”
That landed, and Hotch saw a flicker of clarity pass through JJ’s eyes as he shook his head endearingly.
“Thanks… for catching me,” she said, her voice faint and slurred slightly at the edges. “Literally.”
“I’ll always catch you,” Hotch said quickly, almost automatically, and JJ had a feeling by the tone in his voice that he meant more than just a literal tumble.
Just then, Reid’s voice piped up again from the doorway.
“Hotch—medics are two minutes out.”
“Thank you,” Hotch said with a curt nod as he saw Reid disappear again, presumably to wait for the medics.
JJ’s fingers twitched like she was trying to reach for something before ultimately cradling her head in her hands. Hotch could tell she was in pain by her shallow breathing.
“We’re just going to get you checked,” he said, keeping his voice level and steady.
“I—I just got dizzy…” JJ started.
Hotch shifted, one hand coming up to rest lightly on her shoulder. “Don’t do that,” he said, his voice low. “Don’t minimize.”
She closed her eyes again. Hotch didn’t raise his voice, but the command was there.
“Jennifer.”
Her eyes opened.
Hotch nodded. “Good. That’s good. Keep looking at me.”
Hotch heard Reid’s voice and the medics’ voices before he saw them enter the conference room.
Hotch looked at the medic who knelt beside him. “I think we’re going to need a CT. She’s disoriented, confused the day. Could be swelling.”
The medic nodded. “We were briefed by Dr. Reid,” he said to Hotch. Then, turning to JJ, he said, “Alright, Jennifer. My name’s Greg- we’re taking you to the hospital to monitor your head injury, okay?”
JJ was using most of her remaining energy to keep her eyes open, but she spared a disapproving glance at Hotch.
“I don’t need-” she gestured to the two medics in the room. “...all this,” she tried to say firmly, but it fell flat. Her voice betrayed her exhaustion.
“It’s precautionary,” Hotch said gently. “If something is wrong, I’d rather we catch it now. It’s already been over twelve hours since you hit your head.”
JJ sighed. “Alright,” she said quietly. She reached out, her fingers brushing Hotch’s hand as she stood gingerly. He took her hand for a moment to help her steady herself before letting go, thinking she’d want her independence. But she reached for his hand again as she took another step.
“Sorry,” she said quietly. “Can you just-”
Hotch grabbed her hand again, his other hand coming around her back to help hold her steady.
“Don’t apologize. Can you walk?”
JJ nodded. “Yeah, just dizzy.”
“Okay,” Hotch made a mental note before helping her follow Greg outside.
***
The back of the ambulance smelled like antiseptic and cold metal.
JJ was lying down on the gurney, which had taken enough convincing in itself. Her head was stabilized, and she had an oxygen mask resting loosely under her chin. Her skin looked too pale under the fluorescent light, her eyes barely staying open. Hotch sat on the jump seat beside her, knees brushing the edge of the stretcher. One of the medics, Jim, was at her head, while Greg was across from Hotch, checking JJ’s vitals on a portable monitor.
“Pulse 110, BP’s dropping a little—90 over 60,” Greg called. “She’s still oriented times two. Possibly drifting to one.”
“Copy,” Jim replied. “Get a line in, start fluids.”
Hotch leaned in closer to JJ. “How’re you doing?”
JJ opened her eyes sluggishly. “I’m okay…”
“Good,” Hotch said quietly.
Greg turned towards Hotch. “Any history of seizures?” he asked.
“No,” Hotch said immediately. “But she took blunt force trauma to the side of the head yesterday. She was alert at the time, no loss of consciousness. But this morning she was disoriented, off balance. She mixed up a few notes. Now confusion, fatigue, and decreased coordination.”
“Did she fall, or was she thrown?” Jim asked.
“Thrown,” Hotch said. “She hit a brick fireplace on the left side of her head. No bleeding, but the impact was solid.”
The medic nodded. “Could be intracranial—contusion or slow bleed. We’ll prep for CT at arrival.”
JJ shifted weakly on the stretcher. “He’s being dramatic,” she mumbled.
Hotch leaned closer again. “I think they’ll believe me right now more than you,” he countered quietly.
“You’re such a micro-manager,” JJ teased quietly.
Hotch almost smiled, but his eyes stayed sharp. “I prefer 'thorough.'”
“Mmm hmm,” JJ murmured, her voice fading again.
“Where are we going?” Hotch asked rhetorically. JJ didn’t answer. Her eyes were closed again.
“JJ,” he said again, tapping his fingers lightly against her arm. “Where are we going?”
“Hospital,” she mumbled, eyes still closed.
“Good. Try to stay awake.”
She didn’t say anything else, but her hand twitched once—just enough for him to see she was still in there.
***
Hotch jumped down when they pulled up at the hospital, moving out of the way of Greg and Jim transporting the gurney out of the ambulance. JJ was still conscious, but just barely. Her head lolled toward him with each turn of the gurney.
“She’s fading,” Jim warned. “BP’s low, GCS at 13 and dropping.”
“Trauma One is open,” a nurse called. “Neuro team is standing by.”
Hotch moved with them, making sure to stay out of the way of the staff. JJ stirred again as they pushed her into the trauma bay. Her hand flexed, searching.
“I’m still here,” Hotch said, stepping into view so she could see him.
Her eyes found his, glassy. “This is… overkill.”
“You almost passed out on me,” he said, voice tight. “This is anything but overkill. I’d consider this you being lucky.”
“Dramatic timing,” she whispered as her eyes drifted shut.
“JJ,” Hotch said immediately, voice sharper. He reached for her hand. “Hey—stay awake. JJ, come on.”
She didn’t respond.
“Heart rate’s stable,” the trauma nurse said. “Could be a post-adrenaline drop.”
The neuro attending stepped in, already gloved up. “Get her to imaging. CT head and neck, STAT. Let’s move.”
Hotch moved to follow, but a nurse stopped him with a firm hand on his chest. “We’ve got her, Agent.”
“I need to know what we’re looking at,” he said firmly.
“You’ll know as soon as we do,” the doctor replied. “We’re moving fast. That’s the best thing for her right now.”
It wasn’t a dismissal, but it was a boundary. The first real one he couldn’t push through with sheer force of will. He stood there for a beat, the whir of the gurney’s wheels fading down the hall. She was in the right place, with the right people. He knew that, but that didn’t make it any easier to wait.
The hospital’s waiting area was bright, sterile, and far too quiet for how loud Hotch’s thoughts had gotten.
JJ had been in imaging for nearly twenty minutes before they moved her to another wing. They’d confirmed a concussion—a severe one. Left untreated, the doctor had said, it could have led to worse. A buildup in pressure and swelling that could have potentially led to seizures. They were treating her now, and she was going to be okay, but she hadn’t woken up yet.
He hadn’t moved from his seat when Rossi arrived. The older agent sat down beside him with two coffees. Neither of them touched theirs.
“She’s tough,” Rossi said after a beat.
Hotch nodded. “They’re running more scans,” he said. “Neurological panel. Monitoring intracranial pressure. She hasn’t regained consciousness yet, but her vitals are holding.”
Rossi leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “They say why she went down so fast?”
“The concussion went too long without treatment,” Hotch replied. “The pressure built up. Probably started swelling sometime between last night and this morning.” He paused. “I should’ve listened to Morgan last night.”
Rossi glanced sideways at him.
“She covered it well,” he said. “They all do. You know that.”
Hotch’s jaw clenched. “I don’t know why she felt like she had to.”
Rossi didn’t argue. A nurse passed by, glanced toward them, and kept moving. Hotch checked his watch. It had been close to two hours since he had arrived with JJ in the ambulance.
After another half hour of pacing, waiting, and silence, the door finally opened. A young doctor approached, flipping through a clipboard.
“Jennifer Jareau?” he glanced up as Hotch stood, Rossi right beside him.
“She’s stable,” the doctor said to Hotch. “New scans show no active bleeding, but there’s definite inflammation. We’ve started her on medication to manage swelling. Her response to the neurological tests so far is encouraging. She hasn’t regained full consciousness, but she’s responsive to touch and voice now,” the doctor added. “We’ve moved her to a private room. You can see her, one at a time.”
Hotch nodded, relieved. “Thank you,” he said sincerely. “Do you have any idea when she’ll come to?”
The doctor nodded in understanding. “Should be soon,” he replied. “The sedation was to help with rest, but it should be wearing off.”
Rossi just gave Hotch a look—a silent nod—and let him go first.
***
The room was dim, the only light coming from the monitor at her bedside and the faint blue glow of the machines tracking her vitals. A steady beeping cut through the silence. Hotch stepped inside without a sound.
JJ still had an IV in her arm and oxygen clipped gently to her nose. Her skin was pale, but the color was coming back. He stood at the foot of the bed, arms crossed tight over his chest, staring like he was still working a case.
She looked smaller like this, less invincible than she tried to pretend. He didn’t like seeing her like this, but at least she was finally letting herself get the help she needed.
Hotch finally moved to the chair beside her and sat, exhaling as if just lowering himself into the seat cost more energy than it should’ve. He rubbed a hand over his face, the tension still thrumming under his skin.
"You should've said something," he muttered, voice low. He wasn’t angry, not really. He was relieved she was going to be alright, more than anything, but he was going to make sure they addressed this when she woke up properly.
“You knew better. And I should’ve called it sooner.”
His eyes scanned the monitors, the IV, the lines, and the numbers that represented she was bouncing back. The person he trusted more than most. A teammate, a friend, and family, really, in the weird, brutal way the BAU defined it.
“You’re not supposed to go down on my watch.”
His voice cracked just enough on that last word that he caught it and shut it down. He leaned forward, resting his arms on the edge of her bed.
“Reid and Morgan are going to grill you even more than I am,” Hotch said softly. “Rossi got here just after we did. The others are on their way.”
He glanced down at her. “I know you can hear me. You always do,” he said quietly. He sat back, his jaw clenched tightly as he exhaled. “Come on,” he said, quiet again. “Just open your eyes.”
***
The clock ticked past another half hour. Hotch had moved to the chair beside her, one hand resting near hers on the bed. It wasn’t until JJ’s hand twitched for the first time that Hotch leaned forward, looking for any signs of discomfort or confusion.
“JJ?” he said quietly.
JJ’s forehead creased at the sound of his voice, her lashes fluttering.
“Hey—right here,” Hotch said quietly. “You’re okay.”
Her head shifted slightly on the pillow. A faint groan escaped her throat, soft and raw. Finally, her eyes cracked open. She blinked slowly, squinting at the ceiling.
“Hey,” Hotch said again, softer this time. “Look at me, not at the lights.”
JJ’s gaze drifted toward him, a little unfocused, but there was definitely clarity behind it. Hotch exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for hours.
“You know where you are?” he asked gently.
Her lips moved before sound came out. “Hospital?”
“That’s right,” Hotch said, his voice low.
“My head… feels weird.”
“I know. You’ve got a bad concussion,” Hotch explained. “They’re treating the swelling now, but you’re going to feel it for a week or so.”
She nodded, or tried to.
“Don’t move too much,” Hotch said quickly, voice turning firm again. “Just… try and relax. You’re going to be okay.”
JJ’s eyes fluttered again, the fight to stay awake still weighing on her.
“Hey, stay awake for me.”
JJ’s eyes fluttered open again. Hotch glanced toward the lights overhead, then stood and dimmed them with a quick flick of the panel near the door. JJ blinked more comfortably after that, her gaze landing back on him.
“How’s the pain?” Hotch asked quietly, returning to the chair. “One to ten.”
JJ squinted. “Mmm… blue.”
Hotch didn’t react, but he registered it.
JJ frowned slightly. “I mean… not ten. It’s… a lot. But it’s like a pressure.”
Hotch nodded slowly. “Behind your eyes?” he inquired, “Or more toward the back?”
“Eyes,” JJ whispered. “Left side. Everything feels… floaty.”
A flicker of worry crossed Hotch’s face, but he masked it fast before JJ could pick up on it.
“That makes sense,” he said instead. “You hit the left side. Swelling must still be coming down.”
JJ tried to shift again and winced slightly. “I hate hospitals,” she groaned.
“I know.”
She looked at him then, more focused now. Not entirely clear, but sharper than before. And what she saw in his face made her quiet for a beat.
“You’re mad,” she said, not as a question.
Hotch didn’t answer. His jaw worked slightly, like he was biting back something automatic. He sat forward in the chair, his elbows resting on his knees. His gaze focused on the floor for a long moment before he looked at her.
“I’m not mad,” he finally said. “But you should’ve said something.”
JJ sighed lightly. “I know. I thought it was nothing.”
“It wasn’t,” Hotch said firmly. “You know the rules. You take a hit, you let the EMTs check you over on-site. That’s it.”
JJ didn’t say anything.
“This,” Hotch gestured to the room. “Could have been avoided if you had let yourself get looked over on that first day. Or had admitted to Morgan you didn’t feel right, or had told me—”
Hotch cut himself off when he heard his voice rising slightly; he didn’t want to yell at her. He sighed and leaned back in the chair.
“You collapsed,” He said, his voice calmer again, but his eyes still fierce. “You couldn’t tell me what day it was. And the worst part is—I saw it coming. I saw the signs, Morgan warned me, and I still didn’t stop you.”
JJ blinked slowly, lips parting like she was going to say something, but she didn’t. She knew Hotch needed to say whatever he needed to say.
“I know,” Hotch continued, his voice softer now. “That you didn’t want to say anything. You thought it was nothing, and I trust your judgement,” He said. “But it was something. Something that could have gotten a lot worse if—”
“I know that,” she said softly, not defensive—just honest.
Hotch looked at her. The weight of everything was finally catching up to him in his expression. The fear. The guilt. The helplessness he hated more than anything else.
“I don’t want to have this conversation with your name on a report,” he said, voice rougher now. “I don’t want to have to tell Henry why his mom didn’t come home.”
JJ’s expression changed at the mention of Henry—just a flicker of something sad and understanding. She reached her hand out slowly, her fingers brushing his on the edge of the bed.
“I know,” she said, her voice somber and quiet. “I know, Aaron.”
Hotch held her hand gently—carefully—like he was still afraid she’d vanish if he gripped too hard.
And for once, he didn’t say anything back.
***
A knock on the door came about fifteen minutes later. Rossi cracked the door open just enough to poke his head in, his tone full of dry amusement.
“Hotch, if you’re grilling her when she just woke up, I’m going to start writing you up for emotional battery.”
Hotch didn’t look away from JJ. “I’m being nice,” He deadpanned.
Rossi raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure she’s feeling it.”
JJ gave a weak little smile. “It’s okay, Rossi. I already told him I was wrong, that’s got to buy me at least a day of peace.”
“Ah,” Rossi said, stepping inside. “A confession of guilt. That’ll hold him for forty-eight hours, minimum . ”
Hotch's posture finally relaxed a little, and he allowed himself a faint smile. Rossi moved to stand near the foot of the bed, hands in his pockets, easy smile on his face.
“You look better awake,” he said lightly.
“I feel like I got hit by a truck,” JJ muttered.
“You kind of did, by waiting it out like this,” Rossi countered. “But I’m sure you’ve already heard that from him.” Rossi inclined his head towards Hotch. “I won’t give you another lecture.”
JJ glanced back at Hotch, who was already looking at her again.
“We’re good?” she asked him.
Hotch gave a small nod. “We’re good.”
Rossi smirked. “Then if I don’t need to save you from Hotch’s lectures with a mental restraining order, I’m getting coffee. You want anything?”
Hotch stood. “Black.”
JJ raised a hand weakly. “Anything with caffeine.”
Rossi chuckled. “Nice try,” He said, pointing at her. “You don’t get anything until you’re out of here.”
He headed out, the door swinging gently shut behind him. JJ scoffed and rolled her eyes at Ross’s retreating figure.
“Oh, come on,” she complained, looking up at Hotch now. “Are you hearing him? I’m not that bad-at least I’m awake now.”
Hotch raised an eyebrow. “And that admission right there is why I agree with Dave’s assessment,” Hotch said firmly, but there was a hint of amusement in his tone, and he couldn’t hold back a slightly relieved smile.
With some proper rest and treatment for a day or so, she was going to be fine, Hotch knew that. And really, at the end of the day, getting everyone home safe was all that mattered.