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JJ was out of the hospital that same day, sent home with strict instructions to rest for the next couple of days. Hotch made sure she took at least one full day off before she inevitably ended up back in the office before her medical leave expired, which was supposed to be the end of the week.
But just like Hotch knew she would, JJ snuck her way back to her desk barely four days after the hospital discharge. After debating whether arguing with her would actually get him anywhere, he quietly decided that she seemed to be fine doing desk work. And as long as she seemed alright, he wasn’t going to push her to leave.
Every time she missed a detail or took a second too long to remember a name, Hotch steered her away for a minute- to the breakroom for coffee, Garcia’s office to retrieve information, anything to get her to breathe for a moment. He’d keep a discreet eye on her for a little while after, and she’d bounce back within the hour like nothing ever happened. But Hotch knew.
Later that day, JJ was in the conference room at the far end of the table; her laptop open, notes in front of her, and coffee just barely within reach. Reid was pacing by the whiteboard, Morgan leaned against the wall, and Rossi was flipping through the latest autopsy report.
Hotch stood near the front, going over victim three’s timeline. “The suspect had access to her apartment between 8:30 and 10:15. JJ, you confirmed the doorman’s log?”
JJ nodded. “Yeah, he signed in at… at 9:10. Stayed until—” She paused, frowning. “Wait. No, 8:50. He signed in at 8:50.”
Hotch raised an eyebrow. “That’s earlier than the victim arrived home.”
“No, she was—” JJ stopped, blinking. Her mind flipped through details like a shuffled deck. “She was home by then. I thought… I just—” She flipped her notes. Her handwriting stared back at her, and none of it looked right.
Morgan glanced over from his spot on the wall. “You good?”
JJ forced a breath. “Yeah, just… give me a second.”
She flipped another page, but Hotch saw it was the same page she had flipped back on earlier.
Reid spoke gently. “You’re right, JJ. She got home at 8:45. Doorman logged him five minutes later.”
JJ looked up, and Reid smiled a little, reassuring but never patronizing. “It was there. Just needed a second.”
She nodded tightly, but her expression was blank. She closed the file and stood up slowly.
“Excuse me a minute.”
She didn’t wait for a response. Just stepped out of the room, calm and quiet.
***
JJ didn’t know how she ended up at Garcia’s office door, but when she knocked, she was instantly greeted by the usual explosion of color and trinkets—fairy lights, glittery post-its, a pink skull coffee mug balanced on top of two hard drives.
JJ stood in the doorway for a second, her hand pressed lightly to her temple, blinking like the light was too much.
Garcia looked up immediately. “Hey, sunshine. You okay?”
JJ stepped inside, closing the door behind her. “Yeah. Just… needed a break from the overhead fluorescents and all the testosterone.”
Garcia gave her a look. “How’s your head today?”
JJ hesitated, then walked over to the couch and sank down slowly, pressing the heels of her palms against her eyes.
Garcia stood. “Headache?”
JJ nodded.
“Scale?”
“Seven. Maybe eight. If it climbs, I’ll go home.”
Garcia quietly sat beside her and handed her a water bottle and an Excedrin. JJ took it, sipped, and leaned back with her eyes closed.
“It’s not even the pain,” she said after a minute. “It’s what comes with it.”
“Which is?”
JJ breathed out a slow sigh. “Words don’t line up. My brain blanks. Or it flips details—like it’s trying to screw with me for fun.”
Garcia nodded softly, fingers picking at the edge of her dress. “Is that why you're in here now? Taking a break? Did things not line up… quite right during the briefing?”
JJ didn’t answer right away.
“I remembered the case file,” she said. “I had the doorman’s log. I even underlined it. Then, when it came up— nothing. I was just… sitting there with brain static.”
Garcia’s expression softened even more. “You still pulled it together.”
JJ scoffed a faint laugh. “I kind of just…stepped out,” she admitted quietly. “Came in here for a minute.”
“You stepped out so you didn’t make it worse,” Garcia countered softly. “And that’s exactly what you should have done. JJ, you need to give yourself a break.”
JJ didn’t say anything.
Garcia looked at her for a second, then tilted her head. “Is this where I remind you that you were unconscious less than a week ago and should probably still be in bed?”
JJ let out another dry laugh that was more of a breath. “That might be helpful, yeah.”
Garcia leaned over gently, resting her head against JJ’s shoulder. “You’re doing really, really well. I need you to know that.”
JJ swallowed hard. “I just want to be back.”
“You are back,” Garcia said. “Just… not at sprint speed yet.”
JJ’s shoulders slumped slightly. Garcia sat up and wrapped an arm around her in that sideways, best-friend hug that didn’t require eye contact.
“You can be frustrated,” Garcia said. “You can cry. You can be… mad at your own brain. I’ll still bring you cupcakes and reruns of Gilmore Girls until you forgive yourself for healing slower than you wanted to.”
JJ laughed, but her eyes were getting damp. She let her head fall to Garcia’s shoulder for a minute with her eyes closed. Just to let herself breathe.
She hugged Garcia back when she sat up again.
“I have about three more minutes, tops, before someone comes looking for me,” she said quietly with a smile.
Garcia gave a tired smile. “Yeah. You do.”
***
Hotch didn’t follow her right away. He gave her about five and a half minutes before he closed his folder and walked out after her.
He found her near the elevator coming from Garcia’s office, one hand pressed to the back of her neck, the other clenched into a loose fist at her side.
“Alright?” he asked gently. “You just… lost your footing for a second. It happens.”
JJ didn’t turn to him. “It’s happening more on good days. Days that I feel back to normal.”
Hotch didn’t respond.
“That’s the part that pisses me off,” she added. “I think I’m back. I feel back. Then I can’t even hold a timeline in my head for sixty seconds.”
“You’re doing more than most people could after something like this,” he said. “Need I remind you, you’re technically still supposed to be home.”
JJ finally turned to look at him.
“I didn’t want anyone to notice,” she said. “I was trying to keep up.”
“You are keeping up.”
“Barely.”
Hotch stepped closer, his tone quieter. “Everyone in that room knew. And no one judged you. We’ve all had days where the floor shifts under us. You’re just… still finding your balance. It’ll come back.”
JJ looked at him for a long second and took a deep breath, closing her eyes momentarily.
“Don’t give up the good days because of one bad minute,” Hotch added.
JJ’s shoulders eased a little, a ghost of a smile lifting her lips. “You practice that line, or did you just make it up?” She said lightly.
Hotch shrugged. “Sounded good in my head.”
“Not bad,” she said. “Little dramatic, but I’ll take it.”
Hotch glanced back toward the conference room. “Ready to head back in?”
JJ drew in a breath, held it, and let it out slowly. “Yeah. I think so.”
He didn’t lead her in. He just walked beside her and let her lead.
***
The rest of the week operated in a similar fashion. Hotch continued to watch JJ more closely after the conference room error, but he couldn’t ignore the fact that JJ was spacing out or losing her train of thought more and more over the next few days.
He tried to reason with himself that it was just her healing process- she had taken a serious hit, after all, and wasn’t even supposed to be in the office yet. He had the clearance to send her home, he knew that- but somehow, overriding her trust in her ability to be back at work felt like overstepping. He trusted her judgment, plus the fact that she’d been listening to him and the team about taking breaks throughout the course of the day, convinced him that she would say something if it got too bad.
At least, that’s what he told himself. He had to, knowing her stubbornness, and just had to trust that she would trust him- if and when- it got too bad.
***
The bullpen had thinned out by late afternoon. Case files were filed, coffee cups emptied. JJ sat at the small table in the break room, sipping tea and staring out the window like it might reset her brain. Reid appeared in the doorway, holding a folder and a notepad.
JJ looked over. “You better not have brought anything showing statistics indicating I should be home right now.”
Reid blinked. “Only two.”
JJ gave him a flat look.
He hesitated, then tossed the folder onto the counter and sat across from her. “I only printed them for if you wanted to read them. I won’t give you a lecture.”
JJ smirked. “Progress.”
Reid shifted in his seat. “Hotch said I should check in. He used the phrase ‘non-invasive monitoring,’ which I’m pretty sure just means ‘talk to her and don’t freak her out.’”
She smiled a little, but it faded quickly. Her hand drifted to her temple again, thumb rubbing lightly at her hairline.
“Headache?” Reid asked quietly.
“Low-grade. Constant.”
Reid nodded. “Post-concussive syndrome can cause chronic tension-type headaches. Especially under fluorescent lighting, after stress, or during overstimulation. Which, in this office, is like… all the time.”
JJ gave a small laugh. “You really know how to sell the workplace.”
He tilted his head. “You’re still having memory slips?”
JJ’s jaw tightened, but she nodded. “Not huge ones. Just enough to throw me off. It’s worse when I’m tired.”
“You’re healing,” Reid said gently.
JJ looked at him for a long moment. “You know we’re technically the same rank, right?”
He blinked. “Yes?”
“So I’m allowed to say this: you’re not a real doctor.”
Reid grinned. “That’s… fair.”
JJ sipped her tea again. “But thanks, anyway.”
“You’re welcome.”
He tapped the folder. “Also, for the record, these are notes on the neurological recovery patterns from trauma cases in active field agents. No graphs. Just timelines.”
JJ raised an eyebrow. “So not emotional support.”
Reid shrugged. “This is how I show emotional support.”
JJ smiled, soft but real this time. “Then I’ll take it.”
***
JJ didn’t sleep much that night. Between the constant pressure behind her skull and occasional nausea, she was lucky to get the four hours she managed to get before dragging herself to the office. She somehow found herself at her desk before 8 am, sipping coffee and scanning case summaries. Despite the caffeine, her head still felt fuzzy, like her thoughts had to swim through molasses to reach the surface. She brushed it off tiredly, hoping the coffee would help.
10:12 AM – Conference Room
Garcia had just finished a rundown of potential addresses during the morning briefing when JJ chimed in.
“So the fourth victim—uh, the one from Maryland—her name was…”
She trailed off. Reid glanced at her gently.
“Chloe Nystrom,” he said for her.
JJ blinked. “Right. Chloe.”
Morgan gave her a quick, reassuring smile. “Easy to mix 'em up.”
But JJ’s face said she hadn’t mixed them up- she’d just lost the details. Again. She nodded quickly and looked back at her notes before anyone noticed the redness in her eyes.
12:43 PM – Bullpen
Right after lunch, JJ stood beside Reid, reading over his victim timeline in the conference room, when she suddenly pointed at the board.
“Wait. That’s not right. That victim didn’t die in… no, that was Pennsylvania, not—wait.”
She frowned, already second-guessing herself. Reid looked at her carefully.
“That was Pennsylvania, yes,” he corrected, pointing to the board where his notes were. “You’re thinking of the one in Ohio with the similar profile.”
JJ stared at the board, her lips tight.
“Yeah,” she said eventually. “Sorry. Just mixed it up.”
Morgan looked over from his desk. “Happens to the best of us.”
JJ didn’t answer, just turned back to her laptop and walked away from the board.
3:21 PM – Break Room
JJ stood off to the side, a water bottle in her hand and her eyes blank on the far wall.
Garcia came in behind her and paused. “You okay, JJ?”
JJ blinked like she hadn’t realized she was being spoken to.
“Yeah. I just forgot what I came in here for.”
Garcia smiled gently. “That makes two of us, and I don’t have a head injury to blame.”
JJ tried to laugh, but she could hear the fear in her voice slip out.
4:05 PM – Hallway Outside the Conference Room
Morgan passed Reid on his way out of the conference room, his voice pitched low so JJ wouldn’t hear him.
“She’s off today.”
Reid nodded, watching JJ through the glass as she sat at the table, hands folded tightly in front of her. “It’s worse than it’s been these past few days,” he agreed quietly.
“Should we say something to Hotch?” Morgan pressed.
Reid hesitated. “We could. But she’s not in danger. She’s still aware. Just… frustrated.”
Morgan glanced toward the office upstairs. “Hotch won’t like that we didn’t tell him.”
Reid met his gaze. “Maybe. But we have to trust her, too.”
Morgan nodded slowly. “Alright. But if she doesn’t tell him soon…”
“She will,” Reid said.
4:43 PM – JJ’s Desk
JJ couldn’t focus, no matter what she tried.
The sound of the whole bullpen felt louder. Her head wasn’t pounding like it had been earlier that morning, but the buzzing and the fatigue were getting worse. Her thoughts tangled together like spaghetti in a pot. She opened the same file twice and couldn’t remember why she’d done it either time.
Her hand moved to her temple. And then she remembered the hospital. And Hotch's voice.
“Just say something next time.”
JJ put her head in her hands and took a deep breath. It’s not like she didn’t want to tell Hotch- well, she didn’t, but that was mainly her pride getting in the way. She knew everyone was simply looking out for her, and it felt… nice, in a way.
She didn’t have to play tough for any of them, and she knew that, but admitting that she felt bad enough to possibly warrant going home meant Hotch was going to check on her, and she just didn’t feel that was necessary. She felt better than she had the night before, loads better, but that might have also been because she could barely keep thoughts in her head anymore.
Finally, with a quiet sigh, JJ made her decision. She stood from her desk and walked across the bullpen, up the stairs, and to the left, where the offices were.
When she reached Hotch’s office door, she knocked once. She didn’t have to wait long- Hotch’s voice came from behind the door, steady and familiar.
“Come in.”
JJ stepped in quietly and closed the door behind her. Hotch looked up, reading her in a second. Her shoulders were tense, her expression locked down. Not guarded—just... overcompensating.
“Do you have a minute?” JJ asked.
Hotch nodded, his eyes narrowing a little in concern. “Of course. Are you alright?”
JJ hesitated, then let out a small breath. “I’m having a bad day.” There. She admitted it.
Hotch came around the desk, gesturing to the chair opposite his. “Sit down,” he said gently.
When she did, he crouched slightly beside her, just enough to be at her eye level.
“Headache?” Hotch asked predictably.
“No,” she said quickly. Then, thinking about it, she corrected, “Kind of. It’s more like… fuzz. Disorientation. Everything feels heavy. I keep—” She swallowed. “Losing things. Details. I can’t hold onto anything for more than a second, which is way worse than before…” she trailed off, her breath catching in her throat.
She swallowed quickly in a vain attempt to get rid of the tight feeling creeping in. Somehow, talking about it made it seem more scary, more real.
Hotch studied her. “How long has this been happening today?”
“All day,” JJ said, barely above a whisper. “It’s worse than usual.”
“Have you eaten today? Stayed hydrated?”
She nodded. “Yeah. Garcia made sure.”
Hotch made a mental note to thank Garcia for that later.
“You feel dizzy at all?” he prompted. “Or just disoriented?”
“Just… unfocused,” JJ answered, bringing her hand up to her temple again. “Disconnected, almost.”
Hotch gave a small nod.
“Alright. Look at me.”
She did. Barely. Hotch reached out and gently took her wrist, providing tactical contact for her to focus on.
“Can you tell me what month it is?” he asked gently.
JJ blinked. “March.”
“Good. And what’s Emily’s middle name?”
“Prentiss.”
Hotch almost smiled. “Try again.”
JJ paused for a moment, thinking, before letting out a shaky laugh. “Elizabeth, god, sorry…”
“Good. Don’t apologize- this gives me a baseline.” Hotch corrected gently. “Last name of the first victim in the current case?”
JJ hesitated. “Blanton.”
“Good.”
JJ closed her eyes and swallowed again, turning her head slightly away from Hotch.
“I know,” Hotch said. “You’re overloaded and frustrated. And probably worried. But I think you’re okay.”
When JJ opened her eyes again, Hotch was able to turn her head gently back towards him and meet her eyes. That’s when he saw she wasn’t just disoriented. She had turned away from him because she was fighting back tears. Hotch’s tone softened instantly.
“I know,” he said again. “I know it’s a little scary, but you’re okay. Your brain just needs a reset and extra rest. You’re still recovering.”
JJ nodded quickly, breaking away from his gaze and pressing her knuckles to her mouth like she was trying to hold everything in.
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” he said, his voice calm and low. “We’re going to stay here for a few minutes. Just try to relax. When you’re ready, I’ll take you home. You just need to rest, hydrate, and reset. Okay?”
JJ nodded again, this time slower.
“Thank you for coming to me,” Hotch added quietly. “This is your brain telling you to take a break. You listened. You’re here. That’s exactly what you should’ve done.”
JJ finally exhaled, like her whole chest had been locked until now.
“I trust you,” she said quietly.
After a few minutes, JJ visibly got a hold of herself. Her breathing evened out, and she swiped away at her eyes impatiently.
“Do you need me to walk you down?” Hotch asked, not wanting to take initiative unless JJ felt she needed it.
JJ shook her head slowly. “I can make it,” she said, but her voice was shaky enough that Hotch wasn’t sure he believed her. He stood slowly from where he was crouched beside her, then offered his hand.
JJ looked at it for half a second, then took it, standing up from the couch. When she stood, Hotch didn’t let go. He guided her to the door and out of the office, and that alone was enough to silently tell her that he was worried.
He finally let go when they made it down the stairs, knowing that she would want to show as much independence as she could in front of the other agents, other colleagues. However, she was still close enough to him that Hotch kept a protective hand hovering at her back.
The bullpen had thinned out thankfully, but a few people lingered—Rossi at the copier, Morgan glancing over from the corridor, Garcia with her phone tucked under her chin.
They all looked up, but none of them said anything for JJ’s sake.
Hotch held the door open for her. JJ nodded once as she passed through, eyes on the floor.
The elevator ride was quiet. When they stepped out into the parking lot, the quiet surrounding them felt like both a relief and a weight pressing on their shoulders.
The city blurred past the windows as Hotch drove, the streetlights flickering across the windshield, the world moving too fast and too slow at once. JJ stared out the passenger window. Her hands were folded in her lap, and her head was turned just enough that Hotch couldn’t see her face when he glanced over every once in a while.
“You doing alright?” he finally asked.
JJ nodded. Hotch didn’t press her.
A few minutes passed in a comfortable silence until Hotch spoke quietly again.
“When we get you home, I want you to rest. No screens, no case files. Alright?”
JJ nodded again, barely lifting her head.
“I’ll get you something to eat. You’re just going to decompress for a little while.”
JJ’s breathing hitched as she nodded again.
Hotch glanced over. He could see her shoulders shaking ever so slightly.
Hotch’s grip on the wheel tightened, but he didn’t say anything. He knew she didn’t want him to see, so he humored her.
Instead, he kept his voice even.
“You’re going to be okay.”
JJ didn’t answer, but her next few breaths were a little smoother.
Hotch kept driving—smooth and steady, like if he just kept the car gliding forward, the weight in her chest would loosen on its own.
At a red light, he reached out with one hand and gently rested it on her forearm. JJ turned her head just slightly toward him. As he expected, her eyes were red, but she was doing her best to hold it together.
Hotch kept his hand resting gently on her arm for the rest of the way.
***
When Hotch pulled into the driveway, JJ didn’t move right away. She sat still for a second, her hand pressed near her face, like she didn’t register she was home yet. Hotch didn’t rush her.
“You ready?” he asked gently.
JJ nodded, but as soon as she opened the door and stood, he saw her split-second hesitation. Her hand caught the edge of the car like it was casual, but he knew it wasn’t. When she found her footing, her steps were slow and careful. Hotch followed closely behind, watching everything without saying a word.
Halfway up the walk, JJ stopped suddenly. Her hand lifted to her temple, and she closed her eyes, exhaling through her nose like she was trying to steady herself. She leaned lightly against the brick wall beside the front door.
Hotch stepped in beside her, his voice still quiet but edged with that low kind of tension—the kind that came out when he was done watching someone suffer in silence.
“JJ.”
JJ didn’t open her eyes. “I’m okay. Just need a second.”
“You’ve needed more than a second all day.”
She didn’t say anything to Hotch’s retort. Hotch waited another beat before deciding enough was enough. “Let me help,” he offered, gentle but also firm.
JJ hesitated for a second, then nodded. Hotch moved to her side and slid an arm around her back to help support her. JJ leaned into him slowly, her weight easing into his side like her body was finally allowed to give up the act.
They walked together to the door, slow, unhurried. Hotch opened it one-handed when she handed him the keys and guided her inside. JJ toed off her shoes as Hotch steered her toward the couch, her movements slow and uncoordinated now.
Once she sat down, she blinked up at him.
“Sorry,” she whispered. “Moving’s getting dizzy now, apparently.” She let out a weak laugh.
“Tears aren’t helping,” Hotch said softly, kneeling in front of her. “Close your eyes for a second.”
JJ did, and Hotch gently tilted her chin upward with two fingers, scanning her face—her color, her pupils, and the fine tremble in her jaw.
“Your balance might be off, but your orientation’s still good,” He said lightly. “Probably overstimulated along with everything else you’ve been feeling all day.”
JJ sighed. “I hate this,” she said quietly.
“I know.”
She opened her eyes again, barely. “It’s been what, two weeks?” she asked rhetorically.
Hotch shook his head, still calm. “Don’t do that. You’re not back at square one; this is just a little setback. You need rest.”
JJ leaned her head back against the couch. Hotch reached for the blanket folded over the armrest and handed it to her.
“I’ll get you water.”
“Thanks, Hotch,” JJ murmured as he walked past her into the kitchen.
In the two minutes that Hotch was gone, she sank further into the couch, her legs tucked under the blanket. Hotch placed the glass on the table next to her and sat down in the chair across from the couch.
“Henry’s gonna be home soon,” JJ murmured, her eyes still closed.
Hotch glanced at the clock. “He’s still at school for another hour.”
JJ nodded vaguely. “Should probably text Will. Let him know I’m having a bad day.”
“You don’t have to,” Hotch said gently. “Reid already called him.”
JJ cracked her eyes open. “Oh.”
“He said Will’s got everything handled,” Hotch explained. “He’s picking Henry up from school.”
JJ stared at the wall, unfocused. “Will’s good at this. He always knows when it’s bad.”
“I know.”
“I hate that he has to.”
Hotch didn’t correct her.
After a minute, he leaned forward a little. “Do you want to go upstairs before they get home?”
JJ shook her head, barely.
“Maybe, but… I want to see him.”
Hotch knew JJ was referring to Henry. He was a parent, too. Still, he asked anyway.
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah,” she murmured. “Just five minutes.”
Hotch doubted JJ could even last five minutes, but he didn’t say anything.
“Did Reid tell you about the coffee graph?” JJ suddenly asked.
Hotch raised an eyebrow. “The what?”
JJ gave a tired little laugh. “He tried to convince me that two and a half cups a day is the scientifically optimal amount for cognitive regulation post-injury.”
Hotch almost smiled. “That sounds… exactly like him . ”
“I told him I hit three by 10 am, and he looked genuinely concerned.”
“Who is he to talk?” Hotch teased. “I’ve seen him refill the machine more than twice in one day.”
JJ scoffed quietly. “Then he brought me a decaf and wouldn’t look me in the eye when he handed it over,” she said.
Hotch chuckled under his breath.
JJ smiled, but her voice was quieter now. “I like it when he checks in. I know it’s awkward for him. But he always means it.”
She shifted slightly under the blanket, slower than before. Her fingers curled in toward the fabric, the tension finally starting to leave her body. Hotch glanced over. JJ’s eyes were closed.
“…JJ?”
No answer. He leaned in, quieter. “Jennifer.”
Still nothing, but her breathing had evened out, her face softer now than it had been all day. She’d fallen asleep mid-sentence. Hotch let out a breath, quietly amused.
“About time,” He thought fondly.