Work Text:
JJ is going to kill someone.
Preferably before someone kills her, because this feels exactly like the start to every cliché horror movie. She can already see the headlines, movie deals and true crime podcasts exploiting her story down to the last detail, discussing how she was killed by a stranger after her car broke down.
In. The. Middle. Of. Nowhere.
JJ is no mechanic, but the car’s refusal to start and the wisps of smoke escaping from the hood are pretty good indicators something is seriously wrong.
With roadwork in progress along her usual route back to DC from visiting a college friend upstate, and traffic backed up for several hours, she had figured it couldn’t hurt to put her trust in her shabby car’s navigation system when it provided her with an alternative route. What was the worst that could happen? She’d see a little more of what Virginia has to offer, arrive home later than expected?
Wrong. Apparently, the worst that could happen was the navigation system deciding to lead her off the main roads and onto some probably-not-even-legally-considered-roads, straight into the dense forest. Somewhere along the way JJ had had the sneaking suspicion she was just being led further away from any and all civilization, instead of closer to it, but she’d figured the best option was to head along anyway.
Now she wishes she had turned around right there and then, back to the busy interstate. She’d trade all the waiting in traffic in the world for her current situation, where it had taken one bump too many for her car to roll to a spluttering stop.
In the quickly darkening forest.
“Fuck,” JJ mutters, not for the first time. A hit to the steering wheel does little to help her frustration, nor does it magically fix the car.
She undoes her seatbelt and leans over, opening the dashboard on the passenger’s side and takes out her gun and holster. It clips around her belt with a satisfying snap, the weight a familiar comfort against her hip. With a deep breath, she opens her car door and pulls at the latch to open the hood.
Her heart beats faster the second she sets foot on the forest floor, the trees seeming to grow impossibly taller around her as she stands up. An ominous feeling crawls up her spine, nausea swirling in her gut, but she pushes through it to round around to the front of the car. Wisps of grey smoke escape when she lifts up the hood and locks it in place.
JJ stares down at the engine.
It looks like an engine.
She has learned enough about cars to refill the wiper fluid and oil, and is observant enough to conclude something is wrong, but her knowledge ends there. Her preference to defer to professionals for the rest is coming back to bite her in the ass right about now.
If she doesn’t hold on to her frustration so tightly her knuckles turn white, it gives room to a kind of fear JJ is not equipped to acknowledge right now. She knows better. She knows better, than to stray off the familiar paths and roads, knows better than to put her trust in a system that had never quite worked right, but she’d had a weak moment (she had barely slept all week thanks to a serial killer on a rampage down in Texas) and look where it got her.
JJ shuts the hood and climbs back into the driver’s seat, her blood pressure decreasing at the feeling of security this familiar enclosed space provides in the vastness of a place she has decidedly avoided for as long as she can remember.
JJ doesn’t like the woods.
It’s a fear that doesn’t stem from a rational place, much to her frustration. It just… is. She’s learned to work with it, through it, for the most part, in adulthood. With the work she does, she didn’t have a choice. And so, with time, the fear ebbed from petrifying closer to unease. JJ can work with unease, when she knows she’s got a team to back her up.
She is alone, today.
JJ triple checks her phone, but there’s still no service. She knocks her head against the headrest and groans. There aren’t a lot of options left. She can stay in the car, wait it out. Maybe, eventually someone else will drive by and offer help, but she hasn’t passed any people in a good hour now, and she doesn’t like the odds.
She has made a plan before she even fully registers it, gathering any and all useful supplies from the car into the purse that sits in the passenger’s seat.
No one is waiting for her back home. She enjoys her solitary life most days, enjoys having her own space and routine, but that, along with her unpredictable job, means that it will take time before her neighbours or any of the places she frequents in the neighbourhood will notice something is amiss.
It’s much more likely the FBI will be the first to sound the alarm when she doesn’t show up for work, but the BAU had explicitly been promised a few days off work after their last clusterfuck of a case and JJ has no interest in waiting that long. Which leaves one last option: leaving the car behind and going out to look for help or service, whichever comes first.
There are roads here, which means there will be people eventually, she tells herself as she hoists her purse onto her shoulder and climbs out of the car before she can think of a million reasons not to. She locks the car, flipping it the bird in a surge of useless pettiness and sets off in the direction she’d been driving before the abrupt and unwelcome breakdown.
The forest floor is damp, mud and leaves sticking to the soles of her nice leather boots. She clutches the strap of her purse tightly, feeding her nervous energy into her grip. With nothing but the road ahead to occupy her mind, it’s hard not to get stuck on the horror-esque circumstances of her situation. The lingering irrational fear of her surroundings mingles with true stories, cases she’s seen come across her desk, of people in her situation who met an untimely fate due to a stranger who took advantage of their vulnerability.
She swallows heavily, her fingers brushing against her holster and desperately willing it to infuse her with safety.
The slow-setting sun doesn’t help, casting long shadows in the dusky forest. JJ employs every technique she knows to keep her breathing steady, knowing she needs the oxygen to keep her legs moving. Ten minutes into her hike, she allows herself a break to check her phone. Still no sign of service. Ten minutes later, again. No service. Another ten minutes of walking brings no change with it: no service, no people.
Doubt about her choice grows with every minute that passes since she left the car, but she doesn’t allow herself to truly question her decision until an hour has gone by and there is no change in sight, except the sun is now much closer to setting, and the ominous atmosphere of the forest has increased tenfold. She’s had plenty of practice in not showing fear, but her nervous system can’t be tricked.
Dusk settles, and her heart beats faster. It gets dark much quicker within the confines of the forest, and every minute drags along, the tiniest noises setting JJ on edge. It doesn’t help that it cools down quickly, with the evening looming ahead.
JJ pops her collar, ducking down into its warmth and sticks her hands in her pockets, but the chill still finds a way to sneak through her clothes and settle in her bones. The nausea from earlier returns in full force, swirling in a stomach filled with dread at the never-ending road. She has long since passed unease, her fears echoing louder in the dark. The trees tower over her, unmoving shadows that surround her, stop her, trap her in place.
She pulls a shuddering breath into aching lungs and wills her feet to move faster.
The blue light of her phone screen mockingly illuminates her face when she dares to take another small break, the service bar still empty. The battery icon blinks red right before JJ turns it off again, stuffing it into her pocket and desperately tries not to think about the implications of being lost in an unfamiliar place with a soon to be dead phone.
When the first signs of a full blown panic attack show up, JJ wants to cry. Instead, she calls upon every tool she’d ever learned in therapy— grounding techniques, breathing exercises.
In.
Out.
In—
JJ freezes. Sniffs again. Is that…
She lifts her head, gaze jumping around until—
Smoke.
The scent of a woodfire had been what caught JJ’s attention, but she sees the signs now. Someone is close by.
She quickens her pace, keeping her eye on the smoke rising in between the trees. And sure enough: she finds herself at a fork in the road, a narrow path splitting off. JJ cranes her neck, eyes widening at a flickering light, not too far off. It’s barely even a conscious choice at this point, to head up the path. The trees open up in front of her eyes as if in a dream, revealing a cosy wooden cabin nestled within the forest.
Hope curls around her panic, softening its edges.
The smoke and light hadn’t just been a mirage conjured up by JJ’s desperate mind: a car is parked within the shadows of a simple awning. The cabin is inhabited by a breathing, living human being.
Danger might not have passed quite yet, but JJ decides to channel her inner Penelope Garcia and see the best in people, rather than the worst possibility. It’s an excellent way to not overthink knocking on a stranger’s door. The truth is, she has no idea what lies ahead on the road; she has to ask for help.
She climbs up the porch, the movement triggering the light above the door. It’s all very well-kept, no signs of the cabin being rundown or forgotten. She shoots a prayer up into the universe and knocks. And waits.
Nothing happens.
JJ takes a step back, double checking, but smoke still escapes the chimney, and the light hasn’t gone out either. She lifts her hand to knock again when the peephole slides open, freezing JJ in place. A dark eye looks outside and… widens?
JJ steels herself for whatever is to come, rummaging through appropriate greetings in her mind when the door swings open wide and—
“JJ?”
JJ gapes. Because—
Standing here, right in front of her, in a lone cabin in the middle of the forest is Emily. Hair down, her attire of jeans and a sweater a lot more casual than JJ is used to seeing, but it’s her, nonetheless. No doubt about it. JJ pinches herself to prove she hadn’t fallen asleep in the broken down car and is now dreaming up impossible scenarios. Whiplash doesn’t even touch what she’s feeling right now.
The relief is dizzying.
Emily is the first to unfreeze. “What are you doing here?” She takes in JJ, packed purse, dirty boots, remainders of panic sticking to her skin, and immediately ushers her inside without waiting for an answer. “Are you alright?”
The door locks behind them, and the comfortable warmth of the cabin washes over JJ, leeching tension from her stiff muscles. She still isn’t entirely sure she isn’t making this all up. This seems too good to be true. What are the chances?
But then Emily’s hand is on her arm, grounding her in reality with its gentle familiarity. It brings her back, briefly, to a barn and the dead dogs, Emily’s steady voice breaking through her dissociation. “JJ?”
“My car,” JJ finally manages. Her purse slides off her shoulder, dropping to the floor with a dull thud. “I was going home. My navigation sent me into the forest, but my car broke down and there’s no service.”
“Yeah, this place is quite off the grid,” Emily says, concern in her eyes. JJ wants to cry. “How long have you been walking? Here, leave your shoes, I’ve got a fire going and you look cold.”
JJ isn’t one to put her trust in higher powers, but it is wild to think about the strings the universe must have pulled for this to occur. Right time, right place, right person. She unzips her boots as if in a trance, allowing Emily to lead her to a soft couch in front of the hearth. Her coat and gun are exchanged for a knitted blanket, tucked around her with care. It’s the type of gesture that puts JJ right back within their usual confusing dynamic of could-we-be-more-than-coworkers that they’ve had going on ever since Emily walked into the bullpen on her first day. Emily has stayed a partial enigma, keeping things close to her chest, but JJ has been steadily chipping away at her walls.
And now she has just barged through them, discovering something entirely new about Emily’s life thanks to an involuntary, panic-inducing side quest.
“There,” Emily says, re-draping a corner of the blanket so all of JJ is appropriately covered. “It’s just you, right? Where did you leave your car?”
“About an hour down the road.” JJ motions vaguely into the direction she thinks she came from, which reminds her, “Do you have a way of contacting someone?”
Emily nods. Her eyes flicker across JJ’s form, hands hovering as if searching for something to do, to help, but eventually she lowers herself down next to JJ. “I’ve got a radio to get in touch with some people from a nearby town. It’s about an hour, hour-and-a-half drive to get there, depending on the weather and time of day.”
JJ casts a glance at the window. It’s pitch black outside. Had she really been walking around there? A shiver crawls up her spine at the thought of going back out there.
“I can call them now, but the earliest someone will send out a tow truck is likely tomorrow morning,” Emily says.
“How long from here to DC?”
“Give or take four hours.”
Wow, okay. Somehow JJ’s opinion of her car’s navigation system has managed to worsen further. Four hours to get back home?
“I’d be happy to drive you home,” Emily says.
And it’s such an Emily thing, to offer to take her all the way back to DC, when they’re sure to arrive way past midnight at this point. She’s always been selfless to the point of self-destruction, a hopeless quality that makes it unfairly easy to fall for her.
JJ doesn’t think she has ever stopped falling since Emily first set foot in her office.
“Or,” Emily continues, when JJ has yet to respond. “You can stay the night here? We’ll call a tow truck tomorrow, and I was planning on heading back to DC anyway, late morning or early afternoon. It’s up to you.”
“Are you sure?”
Emily nods. “Very sure.”
Exhaustion seeps from JJ’s pores. Though she doesn’t enjoy the idea of spending a night in the woods, she enjoys the idea of sitting in a car for four hours following her hour-long trek through the woods even less. Besides, she isn’t alone. “I think that might be the best idea right now.”
“Okay,” Emily accepts easily. She hesitates for a moment, unsure, but smiles kindly. “Make yourself at home, then.” She considers JJ’s hunched form. “Or maybe you’d like to take a hot shower?”
JJ is back to wanting to cry at Emily’s concern.
Emily must see something on her face. “C’mon,” she says, offering JJ a hand to get up. The cabin isn’t big, and they’re at a bedroom door within a few steps, Emily pointing out the ensuite. “What’s yours is mine, and all that jazz. I’ve got plenty of clean clothes in the closet you can pick through. Don’t worry about the hot water, it shouldn’t run out. Take your time.”
Emily closes the bedroom door behind her when she leaves, and JJ takes a moment to breathe. Part of her wants to collapse on the bed, but she moves to the closet instead, sifting through its contents. Her fingers meet a familiar texture at the bottom of a pile of sweaters and she frowns, pulling the light grey jumper out. Is that…
It’s hers. She’d thought it must have gotten lost in the laundry, but it’s here, at Emily’s. She has a vague recollection of lending it to her after a long case, the night before they were set to head back to DC when Emily had run out of clean clothes. Warmth stirs in JJ’s stomach at the thought that Emily had kept it. Worn it again, at home.
She refolds it and shoves it back under the other sweaters, picking one of Emily’s to change into.
The shower is everything JJ dreamed of, and she comes out smelling like Emily. She returns to the closet and finds a pair of fuzzy socks that look like a unicorn threw up on them. Penelope definitely got to Emily through her lovingly forcible gift-giving at some point in the past few months. They’re warm and soft against her poor feet, and JJ pads out of the bedroom. The heavy scent of fireplace and burning wood still hang in the air, but now spice mingles in with it all.
JJ’s stomach grumbles.
Emily pops her head around the doorway. She freezes for a hot second at the sight of JJ, then shakes her head. “I’m warming up some soup, if you want? Figured you probably haven’t had dinner yet.”
A girl is going to get spoiled. JJ pinches her arm. Yep, still not dreaming. “That sounds perfect.”
Emily motions for JJ to resettle on the couch and appears with two steaming bowls only minutes later. It smells positively heavenly. If the soup hadn’t been scalding hot, JJ would’ve inhaled it all in seconds, but instead she savours it bite by bite.
If she takes away the circumstances that got her here, this feels… weirdly normal. Comfortable. It’s laughable, really, the twists and turns one singular day can take, and she’s sure that with more distance from the panic, she will find it amusing. For now, it just fills her with a sense of gratitude.
“Thank you.”
Emily blinks, looking up from where she’d been staring at her soup, eyes wide. “What?”
“For” – JJ gestures around, to the fire, her soup, the clothes – “all of it.”
“I— You’re welcome?” Emily sound puzzled. As if this is a normal situation. As if she hadn’t even given it a second thought, to allow JJ into her space and share it with her, despite her tendency towards keeping her private life private. As if all JJ had had to do, was ask, and Emily would give. Would tell. Would open up.
JJ’s heart flutters in her chest. She clears her throat. “So,” she starts, resting her half-full bowl in her lap. “This is how you spend your time off work?”
Emily stirs around in her soup, tilting her head in thought. “Sometimes, yeah,” she finally says. “Usually only when we’re promised actually time off, considering the off-the-grid situation. There are ways the FBI can still reach me, if necessary, but I’m not exactly close to home here.” She shifts, curling a leg underneath her body as she twists to face JJ. “But yeah, I do try and come here whenever I can. It’s peaceful out here.”
“If you say so,” JJ says before she can help herself.
Emily huffs out a surprised laugh. “You don’t think so?”
“I’m not a big fan of the woods.” The understatement of the year.
“Oh.” Emily considers the statement. “So breaking down here must have been a nightmare.”
JJ grimaces. “Not something I’d ever like to repeat.” Never again, if it’s up to her. She’s going to stay far away from the forest once she’s out of here. “And I didn’t need that hour of solo walking to think through all the ways I could die or be murdered by a stranger in the woods.”
“Stranger in the woods, hm? Was that who you were expecting when you knocked on my door?” There is a teasing quality to Emily’s voice, and JJ presses her lips together against an unexpected smile.
“Well, hermit and witch were real possibilities too,” JJ answers. “But I’m glad I got a secret fourth option.”
“Profiler?”
JJ hums. “Something like that, yeah.”
A comfortable silence falls.
“The circumstances aren’t ideal,” Emily says softly. “But I’m glad you ended up here, tonight. I don’t mind the company.”
JJ’s cheeks flush in a way that has nothing to do with the fire or the soup.
They chat lightly as they finish their soup, inching closer together on the small couch, catching each other up on their days off work. JJ tells the story of visiting her college friend, surprised to find herself sharing details beyond a superficial recount.
“I’ve been reading, mostly,” Emily says when JJ turns the question back to her. It’s not a surprising answer, considering the floor to ceiling bookcases that line most of the living room. “It’s easier to find the motivation to do that here, rather than back at home.”
JJ knows the feeling. Time passes differently, away from home.
With the soup warming their bellies, Emily takes their empty bowls to the kitchen, only to return with two mugs of hot chocolate. She holds one out to JJ in question, her doe-eyes temporarily turning JJ’s brain into an uncooperating mush.
“This cabin,” JJ starts when Emily is curled up next to her again, where she belongs. “It’s yours, isn’t it?”
Emily nods. “It used to be my grandfather’s.” She wraps her hands around her mug, gaze drifting far off. “By the time I came around, he spent most of his time in France, but whenever he returned to the US, he’d always take a few days to be up here and take me with him. He left it to me when he passed.”
“I’m sorry,” JJ offers.
Emily smiles. “I’ve got good memories, of being here as a kid. My grandfather was a stern but fair man. Taught me a lot about resilience. I’m not sure I would’ve ended up where I am now if it hadn’t been for him.”
Her affection for him is apparent in her voice and the cabin itself, in its careful upkeep and cosiness. Though JJ would be the last person to voluntarily seek out a cabin in the middle of the woods, she can still spot beauty. It’s a true piece of craftmanship that flourishes under Emily’s attention. The care she shows in her work, her friendships, towards JJ, shines through in every part of her life, apparently.
It clicks a little, in JJ’s brain, now; the ease with which Emily let her in here. For as private as Emily is, her willingness to open her heart to others isn’t actually new to JJ.
Conversation flows easily as evening turns into night, their hot chocolates exchanged for tea. Though JJ had been tired even before her car had broken down, now she finds she doesn’t want this to end.
It’s different, being together, spending time together, without the threat of working looming over them. It’s intimate, in a way JJ doesn’t mind as much as she worried she might. She finds it easy to relax, with Emily. Get to know her better, though she has figured out she already knows Emily better than she thought she did. Working with profilers, she has learned a thing or two about reading people.
Even still, her curiosity isn’t satiated. She wants more. Wants to know everything there is to know, wants to share her own thoughts, and knows Emily will listen. Will hear.
No alcohol is involved, but JJ finds herself loosening anyway, from the warmth, the care, the comfort she feels, spending time here with Emily. There is an almost imperceptible shift, in their boundaries. The walls they usually have up at work to keep their sanity aren’t necessary here.
It’s just them.
JJ doesn’t want the evening to end.
It’s well past midnight when the conversation finally tapers off, for no other reason than exhaustion.
“I think we should call it a night,” Emily says almost apologetically.
“Yeah,” JJ sighs.
“I’ve got a spare pillow and duvet around here somewhere.” Emily pushes herself off the couch and shuffles over to the linen closet. “Is the couch okay for you?”
JJ bites her lip, glancing at the window, branches dancing in the shadow. It is easy to forget where she is, with Emily to distract her, but if she’s lying here by herself, she doesn’t know if her mind will wander. If the fear from earlier will come back in full force, at every little sound. And really, she shouldn’t push it. She shouldn’t push it, but…
Emily pauses at the lack of answer, turning to look at her. “JJ?”
“I— These woods give me the heebie jeebies.”
“Heebie jeebies?” Emily looks like she’s on the verge of laughter. “What are you, eighty?”
“Hey,” JJ protests. “I just… I’m not sure I want to be alone.”
“Oh.” Emily shifts, glancing between the bedroom and couch. “Well, we could- We could always share the bed? It’s big enough for two.”
They’ve shared beds before, in hotels. This offer shouldn’t feel any different, but somehow it does. Maybe it’s the fact that JJ is decked out in Emily’s clothes, smelling of Emily’s shampoo and bodywash. Maybe it’s the fact that JJ has just spent the best night in a long time in Emily’s presence.
“If that’s okay with you?” she double-checks.
Emily shrugs. To the unknowing eye, it would look careless. But JJ… She sees the light flush that tints Emily’s otherwise pale face. “I don’t mind.”
Emily exchanges her jeans and sweater for a pair of pyjamas and finds JJ a new toothbrush to use. They stand side by side at the sink, arms brushing against each other as they brush their teeth.
JJ is the first to climb into bed, crawling under the covers on the undisturbed side of the bed, sighing as she sinks into the mattress. Even the duvet smells of Emily, and JJ breathes in deeply, allowing the familiar scent to comfort her. Emily leaves the bedroom to check the doors and windows, before turning off the lights and getting into bed beside JJ.
“Good night,” Emily whispers, halfway through a yawn.
“Good night.”
Emily’s breathing evens out within minutes, sleep claiming her easily, but hesitating with JJ. Exhaustion pulls at her, but her mind mills with the events of the day. How she went from visiting a friend, to getting lost in the forest, to spending a long evening together with Emily, in the middle of the woods.
The universe certainly has an interesting sense of humour.
She hears the rustling of the leaves, now, the sound filtering into the quiet cabin through the walls. A shiver crawls up her spine. The fresh rush of anxiety keeps sleep just out of reach and she groans quietly, rolling onto her back.
A sigh. Then a head presses lightly against her shoulder. JJ freezes, but sinks deeper into the bed when Emily doesn’t move from her new position. Her arms itch, to reach out, pull her closer, but she resists, knowing there are still lines she shouldn’t cross.
(For now.)
There is a lot to unpack here. Coincidences, care, signs from above. A lot to unpack, later, but for now… Emily is with her.
Everything will be okay.
Emily sighs in her sleep, her breath ghosting against JJ’s arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. JJ closes her eyes and gives into the lure of peaceful dreams.
...
Something has changed between them.
(Something has changed for the better.)