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Going undercover isn't a choice—it never is, not with Hotch, not on this team. Elle knows that. This isn't her first rodeo. But when she agrees, this time, she can feel the weight of that not-choice heavy in her chest. She has to do this, because she has to convince Hotch that she's fine. She has to do this, because she has to re-earn her place in this unit—a place that, ever since she came back to work, has only been acknowledged by JJ.
It's clear from the moment they start wiring Elle that no one has told the liaison about this assignment, because if she knew, she'd be in here with them, ripping Hotch and Gideon a new one. She hasn't spent the last few weeks singlehandedly keeping Elle on this side of sane just to watch her go undercover before she's ready. And she isn't ready; Elle doesn't need JJ to tell her that. But she also doesn't have the luxury of having that be true. So she stands as still as she can in that slightly-too-air conditioned conference room as a tech tapes wires to her chest, trying not to notice the way her teammates try not to stare at her scars. They're all doing a horrible job at pretending.
As the men prattle on around her, Elle tries to center herself. It's not like she's actively falling apart—she is better, if only slightly. She'd listened to JJ and found a decent therapist, one that wasn't associated with the bureau. Talking about what happened to her is difficult, even with the woman she loves, but it's getting easier. It's helping, even if she does still wake up in the night feeling like she can't breathe. She can sleep when JJ's with her, and though the blonde has never once complained or made Elle feel like a burden for needing her so acutely, it still makes her feel guilty. It's certainly not how she imagined starting a relationship with JJ, but at least she's no longer spiraling.
She listens idly as Gideon continues to talk about the unsub. Her thoughts have no more form than static until he says, "The unsub knew Shelly Norvell was pregnant—means he's still watching his past victims." Unbidden, the memory of waking up to that gun in her face flashes through Elle's mind. Her fingers twitch against her sides as the fear prickles in the back of her mind, still just as debilitating as it was in the moment. Forcing a breath in and out, she blinks the memory away. She focuses on things she can actually feel: the material of her slacks beneath her fingertips, the tug of the tape on her skin. Breath by breath, she brings herself back to the present.
Finally, the tech leaves her alone, and she starts buttoning her shirt over the scar. Derek briefly catches her eye. "You good?" he asks quietly.
She nods stiffly. "I'm good." He extends his fist and she bumps it back, hoping it doesn't come off as forced as it feels. Good is a nebulous term. She tries not to wish that JJ were here.
The stunt will only work if she's alone, so she's left to her own devices not long after. The drive to the house is short, and despite knowing that Gideon and Hotch are right there, she feels distinctly alone. The house seems to echo around her as she walks through it, checking each room with a zealousness that she's hard-pressed to call misplaced. Still, she forces herself to settle, locking her gun and badge away as Gideon had instructed. Then it's just Elle, and the house, and her overactive mind.
She wanders from room to room, incapable of sitting still. Her skin crawls at the phantom feeling of being watched. When she tries to force herself to relax, every noise in the house sets her nerves racing. She keeps looking over her shoulder, heart pounding, expecting the worst even as she sees only empty air. Several times, she attempts the grounding techniques her therapist has taught her, but what brought her back in the precinct fails to steady her now. Her fingers run along the seam of her shirt as she remembers lying on the floor, her pain blurred into semiconsciousness. The flashes come more frequently the longer she sits in that house, mind racing.
Diving for her gun, her chest exploding in pain before she can reach it.
The pressure of his hand in her wound; the blood, everywhere, as agony eclipsed all rational thought she had left.
Seeing the word RULES on her wall, dripping her blood in rivulets down the white paint.
Flashes of resuscitation, blinding white hospital lights.
Her father, as he was decades ago.
The sun has begun to set when the thought finally settles in: I can't do this. I need to get out of here. It'll blow the op if she does; she knows that. But if she stays it might kill her, or she might go completely insane. She can't deal with an unsub, not like this, not if she wants to catch the son of a bitch. But admitting defeat to Gideon, to Hotch, feels impossible. As the walls close in around her, Elle finally reaches for the phone and makes the only call she can.
"Agent Jareau."
Elle squeezes her eyes shut against the tightness in her chest, even as she breathes a little easier at the sound of JJ's voice. "JJ, it's me."
"Elle? Where are you? What's wrong?"
"I can't do this." She buries her face in her hand, curling forward in the armchair. "I can't breathe in this house, JJ; I feel like he's in here with me again."
Her nonsense words must click for JJ, for Elle hears a brief shuffle before JJ starts to move, her footfalls quiet but quick. "Elle, listen to me. I'm going to call Gideon right now; we'll get you out of there. Just breathe." Her voice grows distant for a moment as she asks an officer to use their phone. "It's ringing right now. Just listen to my voice, baby, okay? Can you do that?"
"Yeah," she manages, even as her voice cracks on the word. Each breath feels thick in her chest, and she closes her eyes to block out the fuzziness at the edge of her vision.
"Breathe, Elle. In and out. Hey, Gideon, it's JJ. I need you to get Elle out now.—No, Hotch, I don't care about this damn sting operation you've got going on. I'm on the phone with her right now. You need to get her out of that house. Elle, you still with me?" She mumbles something affirmative, barely able to follow the meaning of JJ's words. All that matters is that she's there, on other end of the line. That she's getting help. "Stay with me, Elle. Gideon, I said get her out. Now!" Her words are hard as steel, an anchor for Elle's reeling mind.
Her palm is sweaty against her forehead, her vision still swimming, when she hears the front door burst open. Her heart rate spikes, but she can just make out JJ in her ear, telling her that Gideon is on the way. In a moment, steady hands are on her knees. "Elle, can you hear me?" She thinks she nods. "Can you look at me?" When she doesn't move, the weight disappears from her knees, and a moment later something is draped across her shoulders. It smells like Gideon. "Keep breathing, Elle." His hand resettles on hers and the death grip she has on the phone. "JJ, you still there?"
"Yeah, I'm here." Her tinny voice, now on speaker, floods over them both. "Is she okay?"
"She's definitely having a traumatic episode. I don't want her to pass out." His hands return to her knees, and the touch is grounding. "Keep talking to her, JJ."
"Elle, I'm right here with you. Take deep breaths. In and out." She forces herself to follow the cadence of JJ's voice, her breath stuttering and then steadying as she talks her through it. After a few rounds, she can see without black spots flooding her vision. "You're doing great, Elle. I'm here with you. Gideon and Hotch are with you; you're safe. Can you look around for me?"
She lifts her head slowly, knowing what JJ is prompting her for. She'd been just as attentive to the techniques Elle's therapist had been teaching as she herself had, if not more so. A moment of gratefulness pushes through her spiraling thoughts, and she lifts her head enough to meet Gideon's concerned gaze. He's squatting on the floor in front of her chair, an anchor in the storm. He gently squeezes her knee as she finds her voice again. "Five things I can see," she says, voice rough. "Gideon. The phone. A throw pillow. Brown carpet. Ugly curtains."
JJ laughs softly, her relief audible at Elle's small improvement. "Okay, good. You're doing great. Four things you can touch?"
She lets her hand fall from her face, dragging it through her hair before following JJ's direction. "My hair. The chair cushion. This stupid wire. Gideon's jacket." It isn't until she says the words that she realizes that is indeed what has been placed around her shoulders. She grips the edge of it and pulls it tighter to her chest.
The rest of JJ's countdown is interrupted by Hotch entering the living room. "We caught the suspect as he pulled up to the house. Officers are taking him in now." He looks first at Gideon, his face creased with worry, and then to Elle, who's white as a sheet. "You alright?"
The I'm fine dies on her lips. It wouldn't be a convincing lie anyway, and they all know it. Gideon speaks instead. "Let's get you back to the station, Elle." He pushes himself to standing before offering her a hand, which she takes with a shaky smile. There's no sign of the unsub by the time they get outside, for which Elle is grateful. She lets Gideon guide her into the back of the van and leans her forehead on the cold window. She can just barely make out his next words to Hotch through the glass: "Aaron, this was a mistake."
"She was our only option to draw the unsub out, Jason."
"Maybe, but she isn't ready for this. She could've blown the whole op, she could've hurt herself—you didn't see her face when I walked in there. If she hadn't called JJ, we would've lost her completely."
"JJ crossed a line—"
"She saved Elle's life. We are all lucky that Elle had the presence of mind to call her, and that JJ knew what to do. We'll talk about this later, but Elle needs more leave. She's a damn good agent, and I'm not going to lose her to this." Their voices fade before both men get in the van and begin the drive back to the station. Distantly, Elle recognizes that Gideon has her back, though facing more leave is certainly not a glowing prospect. But he is right—she isn't ready for this yet. The truth of it doesn't stop the thought from festering in her chest.
The drive back to the station passes in a blur, and before Elle knows it, she's following Gideon back through the halls. The bullpen is busy in the wake of the unsub's arrest, but she doesn't miss the concerned glances thrown her way from Spencer and Derek. She lets Gideon guide her to an empty desk, but before she can sit, she catches sight of a familiar face over his shoulder.
"JJ," she sighs, and Gideon steps away to allow the liaison to approach. Her stoic face melts into relief as her gaze roams over Elle, and once she reaches her, she doesn't hesitate to wrap her in her arms. Elle sinks into the embrace, and the myriad emotions from the past few hours finally settle as she allows herself to be vulnerable. She hides the incoming tears in the crook of JJ's neck, and her arms tighten around her in response.
"You did so well," JJ whispers against her hair. "Thank you for calling me."
"Thank you for knowing why," she responds, equally quiet. "I wasn't sure I could…find my way out."
JJ squeezes her briefly before releasing her, resting her hands on Elle's shoulders. "I'll always help you find the way back." Her gaze, soft as it rests on Elle, hardens when it catches sight of Hotch. "What were you thinking, Hotch?"
"JJ, it's okay," Elle starts, but the blonde shakes her head.
"No, it isn't. Detective Callaghan told me what you said. The unsub needed a victim, so you'll give him one? Is that all Elle is to you?" Despite the several sets of eyes on them, JJ doesn't seem to notice. Her attention is laser-focused on Hotch, burning with righteous anger. "She's been back in the field for less than a month and you decide to send her undercover, alone, in the most triggering situation you could possibly put together? Are you insane?"
"Agent Jareau, you are out of line," Hotch snaps, voice hard.
"I'm out of line?" JJ nearly shouts. "You left her alone in a house after she just got shot in her own home after you left her there, but I'm out of line? You used her as bait, knowing full well she couldn't say no! And even seeing how that affected her, you have no sympathy for her." She inhales deeply, lowering her volume but not her vehemence. "I've already gotten one call from you where I thought she was dead. I'd rather never receive another."
"That's enough," Gideon says, stepping between them. His voice still manages to be commanding, even when it's quiet. "Hotch, Morgan, go interview the suspect. We need a confession from him in order to prove he's our guy, so approach this carefully. Elle, JJ, sit down, cool off. I'll be nearby." The team disperses, and Elle collapses into the chair beneath her. JJ pulls another one over and joins her at the desk, managing a smile when Elle takes one of her hands in hers.
They sit in silence for a few minutes, letting the noise of the station wash over them. The chaos in Elle's head has faded to a dull roar. The memories, so overwhelming in that house, have abated, leaving her feeling wrung out. As she mulls over JJ's words, the truth of them begins to sink in: the whole operation was one big trigger for Elle's PTSD, and she hadn't been able to say no. She latches on to the irritation that the revelation leaves her with, as that emotion, at the very least, is one she knows how to handle. "Thank you for saying all that," she says, voice low. "You were right. I never should have gone in there."
"It's not like Hotch gave you a choice. I can't believe he didn't tell me." JJ shakes off the anger before it can pull her in again. "But enough about that for right now; I'm sure I'll get a reprimand once we're back in Quantico. I'm just glad you're okay. I'm glad Gideon had your back."
"Me too," Elle says softly.
It takes several more hours for them to acquire a confession, but once they do, Hotch releases them all back to the hotel for the night. Elle never strays far from JJ, but she relinquishes Gideon's jacket back before bidding him goodnight. When she returns to JJ's side, they nod in unspoken agreement before JJ leads the way back to her room. Under the covers, Elle settles on JJ's chest, and they hold each other close in the dark.
It takes a few minutes before Elle recognizes she shift in JJ's breathing that means she's started to cry. "Jay, what's wrong?"
Her arms tighten around her shoulders. "I didn't find out about this whole thing until after you left. I was so afraid that I was going to get another call from Hotch. But when it was you, and you sounded so afraid…it hurt. I wanted to be there for you and all I had was the fucking phone." She sniffs, blinking away tears. "I'm so sorry you had to do that."
"It's not your fault," Elle whispers, the words ghosting along JJ's collarbone. "I don't know what would've happened if you hadn't talked me through it. And you got Gideon to pull me out. That meant a lot."
JJ presses a long kiss to the top of her head. "I love you so much, Elle."
The words pull the first real smile Elle's had in several days. "I love you too, JJ."
Wrapped in JJ's arms, Elle manages to sleep the whole night through.