old bruises - JJ x Reader (Criminal Minds)
requested: Reader is Derek's best friend from when he was a little kid (from Chicago) and she joins his team, her and JJ get closer and reader is kidnapped and tortured by an unsub and the team is sent a live fed of said torture and JJ loses it(?) The team find r, barely clinging to life. (JJ being there when r wakes in the hospital.) - anon
a/n: an almost 8k whopper - i got carried away
cw: torture-ish (verbal rather than physical !)
summary: Y/N, Derek Morgan’s childhood best friend from Chicago, is a new recruit of the BAU. She’s smart, intuitive, and tough - shaped by the same streets that made Morgan who he is. From the beginning, JJ and Y/N gravitate toward each other. The tension builds between them over weeks. Then everything falls apart.
Part of the May Prompts: Day One, an old bruise
It was a good day when you transferred to the BAU. It had been what you were dreaming of for a very long time - ever since Derek had come home with stories of his new co-workers, of the work he did, of the lives he saved (and occasionally, on darker nights where he needed you the most, he talked about the lives they lost too).
You could still remember how Derek had paraded you around the BAU like a proud older brother, hand on your shoulder, introducing you to everyone. The only times he’d let you out of his sight were to take a phone call from your old boss - and to pee.
Now, he stood planted in the middle of the bullpen like your personal bodyguard, arms crossed, jaw set with protective pride. He wasn’t playing around.
“Any of you hurt her,” Derek said, eyes narrowing on his teammates, specifically Emily Prentiss, “and I will bury you. Smiling.”
Emily raised a perfectly arched brow and slowly lifted both hands in mock surrender, “Jeez, okay,” she muttered. “To be fair, I don’t think it’s me you have to worry about.”
Derek frowned, brow furrowing at her cryptic tone. “What-?”
JJ cut in quickly, her voice a little too casual, trying to wedge in a question before you returned. Something had been gnawing at her all morning, and even though she wasn’t sure she wanted the answer, she found herself needing it.
“Have you two…” JJ paused, trying to sound offhand but failing entirely. “Ever… y’know, been-”
“God, no,” Derek scoffed immediately, shaking his head with a grin. His focus shifted to JJ, though he was still casting protective glances in Emily’s direction, just in case. “She’s like my little sister. We go way back. First grade. It started with a shared cookie… and ended with her trying to fight all the bullies.”
JJ’s shoulders eased, just slightly. The tension she didn’t know she was holding loosened at the edges.
Emily, ever observant, filed the entire exchange away with an amused smile, eyes flicking between JJ and the bullpen entrance.
Just as JJ’s lips started to tug into something softer, you strolled back in, still tucking your phone into your back pocket. “Is he telling you all about my heroic youth?” you grinned, swinging an arm around Derek’s broad back. It didn’t quite reach over his shoulder, but he leaned down to help you make it work.
“She’s a fighter,” Derek said fondly, ruffling your hair. “Been saving people since she was seven.”
“Oh, there must be some stories,” JJ said, eyes lighting up in a way she tried to pass off as casual curiosity.
“That particular time involved a Scooby-Doo action figure,” Derek said, voice lowering like he was about to tell a campfire tale, “and three marbles.”
You opened your mouth to elaborate, but Hotch’s voice cut through the moment, sharp and direct from across the room. “We’ve got a case.”
You sighed, mock-dramatic. “Fine. Guess you guys’ll have to wait to see my heroics in action.”
Derek rolled his eyes. “Less Scooby-Doo action figures in this line of work than you’d think…”
You grinned, falling into step beside JJ as the team gathered.
“Oh yeah?” you tossed back over your shoulder. “What about marbles?”
JJ just smiled, tight-lipped, a little brighter than before.
xxxxxxxxxxxx
You don’t notice JJ standing there at first - you were too hunched over a printout, squinting at a string of timestamps that no longer make any damn sense. The uncapped highlighter in your hand hovers mid-air, unmoving for at least ten minutes.
“You’re going to burn a hole through that page.”
The voice startles you. You jump slightly and glance up, eyes tired and blinking into focus. JJ’s standing across your desk, arms folded, watching you with a soft, amused expression.
“Sorry,” you mumble, giving her a sheepish smile. “Didn’t hear you come over.”
“That’s kind of the problem, isn’t it?” she replies, tilting her head. “You didn’t hear anything. Not even your stomach growling.”
You blink, then glance at the clock. Realize you haven’t eaten since... what, 6 a.m.? Maybe not even then.
JJ steps closer, resting her hand lightly on the desk’s edge. “Come on. Lunch. My treat.”
You wave her off, already turning back to the file. “I’m good. I just want to figure out-”
“You’ll figure it out faster with food in you.” Her voice is gentle, but there’s a steel edge tucked into it. “Don’t argue. I can be stubborn too.”
There’s something flickering behind her eyes, humour, maybe. Or something quieter. Concern, soft and steady. You study her for a moment, then sigh, letting your pen clatter onto the desk. “Fine. But only because I’m pretty sure I forgot how to read.”
The café down the street is quiet this time of day. Warm enough outside to justify a little table by the window. JJ orders a salad and tea. You order grilled cheese and soup, and your body practically sighs with relief when the food arrives.
“You always push yourself this hard?” she asks, stabbing her fork through several layers of lettuce.
“Comes with the territory,” you answer, lifting your spoon. “Chicago trains you early.”
JJ hums in response. “So does Quantico. You’re allowed to take a breath, you know.”
You glance at her over the rim of your mug. “And you’re always this nice?”
She shrugs, smiling faintly. The kind of smile that feels like it’s just for you. “Only with the people I like.”
The air shifts between you. Not awkward, but quieter, more aware. You look down at your bowl, then back at her, slower this time.
“You don’t have to keep checking in on me,” you say, softly. “I can handle myself.”
“I know.” JJ’s gaze holds yours. Steady. Sure. “But maybe I just wanted to have lunch with you.”
That stuns you more than you expect. You cover it with a sip of water, hiding the way your throat tightens slightly.
The two of you don’t talk about work again. Not until you’re almost back at the BAU, at least. But JJ notices your steps are just a little lighter. And you notice she walks a little slower than usual, like she doesn’t mind dragging the moment out just a bit longer.
xxxxxxxxxxxx
A case had just finished. You’re both exhausted. You are very aware that both of your suits are wrinkled, you have bags under your eyes. The elevator lurches slightly and JJ sways. You steady her with a light hand at her elbow, bringing your bodies closer togther under the guise of helping.
JJ doesn’t step away. Your bodies remain close. Not touching - but almost. Enough to feel the heat between you.
JJ clears her throat and lets a small smile pull at her lips, “Thanks.”
“Always.” you reply simply, connecting your gaze with JJ’s, a genuine look passing between you.
Your vaguely aware of the elevator ding as the doors drag open to your floor. Neither of you move for a second. You don’t want to step out and break this fragile thing between the two of you.
Eventually you do.
xxxxxxxxxxxx
You’re sitting side by side, the silence of late hours settling soft around the bullpen. JJ’s got a stack of paperwork in her lap, a coffee on the go next to her, eyes scanning steadily. You’re leaned back in your chair, head tipped against the wall, eyes half-closed, one earbud tucked in and music playing low.
Without a word, you lift the spare bud and offer it to her.
JJ takes it.
A slow song hums between you. Nothing overtly romantic, just gentle. Steady. The kind of song that wraps around the edges of silence without needing to fill it.
Your head tilts slightly, shoulder brushing hers. She doesn’t move. Doesn’t tense. Her eyes flutter closed for a moment longer than necessary, long enough to feel the moment, and not just let it pass.
xxxxxxxxxxxx
JJ slides into the backseat beside you, the city lights begin blurring past outside as Emily pulls out of the car park, already distracted and in conversation with Derek, their voices a low murmur. JJ passes you a thermos, still warm in your hands. Your fingers brush in the exchange, neither of you pulls away immediately.
“Thought you could use something hot,” JJ says, voice low, a little rough with exhaustion.
Your brain short-circuits for half a second. Your eyes flick to hers, catching the line of her jaw, the way she’s half-turned toward you. A teasing quip sits on your tongue but you swallow it back. Instead, you offer a quiet smile. “I think you’re the only one who ever remembers my coffee order.” You look down at your coffee cup.
JJ shrugs, casual on the surface. But her voice is softer now when she says, “I remember a lot of things about you.”
You turn to her, slowly. She’s already looking out the window like she didn’t just say something that shifted the air between you. Like her heart isn’t thudding under her ribs in a rhythm she hopes you can’t hear.
You don’t respond.
You don’t have to.
The silence settles between you again but it’s not the same. It’s warmer. Tighter. Felt.
Later, JJ’s the one driving. Work is done for the day. You’re in the passenger seat, slouched down, hair tied back messily, eyes heavy from too little sleep and too much adrenaline. Post-case silence stretches, familiar and sacred.
And then, out of nowhere, “By the way,” JJ says, her voice cutting gently through the quiet, “you did good today.”
You let out a soft grumble, your head tipping back against the headrest. Your fingers twist together in your lap. “I kept second-guessing everything.”
“And still figured out what we missed,” JJ says, firm. “You see things differently. That’s... good. We need that.”
You glance over at her, voice low. “Thanks for having my back in there.” JJ keeps her eyes on the road. But her hand flexes slightly on the wheel. Her voice is steady when she replies.
“Of course.”
And that’s it. Simple. Sure.
xxxxxxxxxxxx
“Got it chasing a guy through a broken window,” you say, flexing your hand as you unwrap the gauze. “You should’ve seen the glass.” You mime the size of the glass that had been embedded in your own skin.
JJ doesn’t smile, not quite. Her eyes flick to the cut trailing along your forearm, sharp against your skin. She steps closer, instinctively reaching out, her fingers brushing gently over the edge of the wound.
“You should be more careful,” she murmurs, voice soft but threaded with something heavier. Her hand lingers on your shoulder, grounding, warm. The contact draws your gaze to hers, your breath catching just slightly in your throat.
For a moment, everything around you, the hum of voices, the scrape of chairs, the shuffle of papers - it all dims.
“I guess careful isn’t really in the job description, huh?” you say, voice lower now, like it’s meant just for her.
JJ’s lips curve into something faint but real. She doesn’t move her hand.
“No,” she says quietly. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want you to try.”
And you don’t say anything because there’s too much in your chest, too much you’d spill if you did. Instead, you nod, just once.
And she stays a second longer than she needs to.
xxxxxxxxxxxx
The bullpen is emptying, slowly. Agents dragging their feet, stretching out aching shoulders, trading low murmurs as they collect files and jackets. The latest case, a string of missing persons scattered across D.C, has kept them all running on fumes.
You sit cross-legged in your chair, a pen tapping rhythmically against your lower lip, eyes scanning the case file for the third time tonight. There’s something there. A thread you haven’t pulled yet. It hums at the edges of your mind. It’s taunting, familiar.
JJ leans against the edge of your desk, arms folded, her posture casual but her gaze sharp. There’s concern in it, softened at the edges, masked by fondness, but unmistakably there. “You’re still here?”
You glance up at her with a tired, crooked smile. “Someone’s gotta make sure we’re not missing the forest for the trees.”
JJ raises an eyebrow. “Pretty sure Hotch would say the forest can wait until tomorrow.”
“Maybe,” you murmur, eyes flicking back to the page, “but something’s not lining up. Give me a few more minutes.”
She doesn’t move. Doesn’t push. Just watches you quietly, tracking the furrow in your brow, the tension in your jaw, the way your determination has always sat just a little too heavy on your shoulders. “You push yourself too hard,” she says, not quite scolding.
You don’t look up. “And you care too much.”
“Not possible.”
There’s a pause, barely a second but it stretches. You lift your gaze, and for a flicker of a moment, it’s all right there. Everything unsaid. Everything hovering on the edge of maybe.
“Go home, JJ.” Your voice is quiet. “I’ll be right behind you.”
She hesitates. Wants to argue. To stay. To insist you come with her. But she knows that look in your eyes too well, halfway to a breakthrough, halfway to letting someone in.
So instead, she nods.
“Don’t stay too late,” she says, voice soft. Then, more tentative, “Text me when you get home?”
You smile, distracted but sincere. “Promise.”
JJ lingers by the door. Just for a second longer. Just long enough to turn back once more. But you’re already bent over the file again, completely absorbed.
She leaves.
And the silence settles in.
Overhead, the lights hum. One flickers.
You turn another page.
In the end, you don’t text her. Not because you’re one to break a promise or anything. It’s just that you never make it home.
xxxxxxxxxxxx
JJ’s the first to arrive the next morning.
It’s habit, mostly. A quiet building. A few minutes of stillness before the day starts. But something is off the moment she pulls into the parking garage.
Your car is still there, in the same place it always is.
At first, she tells herself it’s nothing. Maybe you came in early. You’re always like that, last to leave, first to arrive. Dedicated to a fault. It’s possible.
But when she steps off the elevator into the bullpen, the lights are still off. The air feels untouched. No fresh coffee. No rustle of papers. Just the low hum of the building, waiting.
JJ flicks on a lamp and glances at your desk. It is still messy. Still lived in. Still yours.
She checks her phone. Nothing. No messages. No text. Not even the ‘made it home’ she was promised.
Her stomach tightens.
Hotch arrives next. Then Rossi, trading tired greetings. Derek follows a few minutes later, coffee in hand, smile halfway to forming, until JJ turns to him.
“Have you heard from Y/N?” Derek blinks. His face shifts almost immediately.
“She was still here when I left,” he says, frowning now, all trace of ease gone. “Said she wanted to go over the local files again.” He shakes his head. “So like her. Can’t let anything go. Too damn stubborn for her own good.”
JJ doesn’t smile. “She told me she’d text me when she got home.”
Derek pauses, then meets her eyes more carefully this time. But he doesn’t say anything.
They check the security logs. Your badge never swiped out. Your jacket is still draped over the back of your chair. The elevator cam shows you at around midnight - shoulders tense, files in hand, rushing out of the building.
But you never got into your car.
Garcia’s called in from home. She’s already pulling ATM camera footage, hospital intakes, traffic cams, anything. JJ stands frozen at your desk, eyes locked on the half-full mug you left behind. It went cold a long time ago. Like everything else in the room.
“I should’ve stayed,” she says quietly.
No one responds.
Because now they all feel it - the pull of dread sinking into their chests.
You didn’t leave. You’re not coming back. You’re missing.
And the worst part?
Whatever you saw in those files... no one else saw it.
Within seconds, the team is moving. Files spread. Names divided. Leads checked and re-checked. They won't stop until they find you.
But JJ's still standing by your desk, fingers hovering above your coffee mug like touching it might anchor her. Her jaw clenches. She's not going to let this be the last place you were seen.
xxxxxxxxxxxx
It’s been sixteen hours since this nightmare began.
The clock ticks past midnight. The bullpen buzzes with low voices and clacking keys, but no one’s pretending they’re close to anything. They’re exactly where they were this morning, maybe even worse.
JJ’s nerves are threadbare. Her shoulders are locked, muscles screaming from tension. She’s lost count of how many times someone’s told her to go home. If one more person tries again, she might scream. Or cry. Or both.
She paces now, tightly, arms crossed, phone clutched in her hand like she’s waiting for it to ring. She knows it won’t. At least not with the name she aches to see.
Across the room, Derek leans forward on a table, fingers steepled beneath his chin. JJ hasn’t seen him this on edge in years. His knee bounces restlessly. His jaw is tight enough to crack. He’s going through the same hell she is. Of course he is. He loves you. And JJ understands that, more than she ever admitted out loud.
A sudden shout slices through the static hum of tension.
“Guys, we’ve been sent a link!”
The bullpen shifts all at once. Chairs scrape. People stand. Every agent in the room joins together toward the screen. JJ doesn’t remember moving, just that she’s suddenly at the front, heart hammering.
The monitor flickers. Static. Then, a feed stabilizes. Low-res. Cold. A basement.
The camera’s mounted high in the corner, angled down. The walls are cement, grey and sterile. There’s a metal pole in the background, some pipes overhead. No windows. No light but a single bulb swaying slightly overhead.
You’re tied to a chair in the middle of it.
JJ’s stomach plummets. Her breath catches sharp in her chest.
You’re slouched, unmoving. Your face is bruised, one eye swelling shut. Blood is crusted at your temple. Your arms are behind the chair, shoulders tense, wrists bound so tightly the skin looks torn.
You aren’t moving. Not much. Please let that mean you’re conserving energy. Please. Not anything else.
Then, offscreen, a man’s voice, calm and measured. Too calm.
“Do you know why this is happening, Y/N?” You don’t answer. Don’t move. JJ sees your throat twitch, just a swallow. Her heart leaps at the tiny sign of life.
“I'm protecting you really. From them. They left you. Didn’t they?” JJ’s jaw locks. She watches you, not the screen, like she can will you to react, to hold on. She memorizes every inch of you, every twitch and flinch.
Your jaw clenches. Barely.
She sees it.
“Even her. The blonde one. JJ. She’s not coming for you. Not really.” JJ stands stock-still. Her arms are wrapped around herself now, tight and unforgiving. Her nails dig into the soft skin of her sides. Her throat burns. But her eyes don’t move. “She said all the right things, didn’t she? Nice things. But where is she now?”
And then-
You lift your head. Barely. Your voice is raw and cracked, but it cuts through like a blade. “You talk too much.”
JJ exhales sharply. Her lips twitch for just a second, like her heart’s trying to smile through the ache. But it doesn’t last. The unsub appears then, just a blur of movement as he storms into frame and strikes you hard across the face. You reel sideways, nearly tipping the chair. Another blow, this time a kick to the ribs. You groan, body curling in on itself.
JJ flinches violently. Her feet shift like she might run through the screen.
Across the room, Derek turns. His hands clench into fists, and he slams one onto the nearest desk. The unsub keeps speaking, voice dripping with cruelty. “You think you’re strong. But you’re alone. You’ve always been alone.”
JJ’s hands are trembling now. She forces them into fists, holds them tight at her sides to stop it. Hotch steps up beside her, his voice low. “JJ… maybe you shouldn’t-”
“I’m not going anywhere.” Her tone leaves no room for argument.
Hotch nods, backing off. He knows that voice. A voice formed, not of duty, but of love. He knows it, even if JJ hasn’t voiced it.
The unsub walks back into frame. He leans close behind you. JJ leans forward too, unconsciously mirroring the motion, like she can block him with her body.
“She won’t save you.”
JJ shakes her head softly, whispering like you can hear her. “No. I’ve got you. You just need to hold on.”
The unsub’s voice drops lower, colder. “Derek left you too, didn’t he?” Derek storms back toward the screen, face pale and drawn. JJ can see him processing, hating himself. But she doesn’t take her eyes off you.
“Your best friend. Your brother. Morgan. He got out. Left the streets behind… left you behind.” Your fingers twitch against the ropes. JJ notices. Her breath hitches. “He joined the BAU. Made something of himself. What did he do when you showed up?” He knelt down, face close to yours, voice dangerously soft, “He tried to send you back. Didn’t want you there. Not really.”
You shift again. This time, it’s not fear. It’s anger. JJ can feel it through the screen, like a current building in your body. The words hit somewhere you weren’t ready for. That makes them dangerous.
You’re burning.
JJ’s eyes flick to Hotch. “He’s targeting her worst fears. Isolation. Abandonment.” Hotch nods grimly.
“That’s how he breaks them.”
“Not her,” JJ replies, steady now. “Not this time.”
The unsub circles again. Leans down one more time, venom thick in his words. “And why don’t we return to that girl of yours. JJ? She’s just being polite. That’s what she does, right? The soft voice. The smile. Pretends to care. But she doesn’t. You’re a liability to them.” His voice raised in anger, “To her.”
You raise your head. It’s slight, but purposeful. Blood streaks your chin. Your eyes are red, swollen. But they’re clear. Defiant.
“You don’t know her.”
The unsub goes still.
JJ goes still too, her chest aching. You defended her. Even now. Even here.
“She left you.” The Unsub shouted, enunciating each word.
JJ’s voice cracks, but she says it again, louder this time. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Hotch doesn’t reply. He just walks away. Derek remains beside her. He reaches out, placing a steady hand on her shoulder. His voice is thick.
“I can’t believe I didn’t see it.” A pause. “You love her.”
JJ’s eyes are locked on the screen. Her heart’s already there.
“I never said it. I should have.”
Derek squeezes her shoulder gently.
“You will.”
A sharp voice cuts in from the back.
“We might have found something!”
JJ turns slightly, still holding the screen in her periphery. Her pulse pounds louder than the noise around her.
She’s not moving. Not yet. Not until she’s bringing you home.
xxxxxxxxxxxx
JJ can hardly remember the moments leading up to the cabin. The drive was a blur of flashing sirens, shouting over comms, the sound of her own pulse thundering in her ears. She must have convinced Hotch she was okay to go. Or maybe she hadn’t. Maybe he’d just seen the look in her eyes and known there was no stopping her.
Maybe he forgot to stop her.
She doesn’t care. She’s here now. And nothing, nothing, is going to keep her from getting to you. From telling you the things she should have said a long time ago.
The morning is still barely formed. A little after 5AM, the sky is a muted navy, just beginning to pale at the edges. The forest is thick with shadows, trees black against the dawn. The agents’ breath fogs in the cool air. The beams of swinging flashlights cut through the dark.
JJ is running. Branches scrape against her coat, twigs snap underfoot, but she doesn’t feel any of it. The cabin is ahead. She sees it between the trees - a squat, rotting structure. It looks like nothing. But she knows.
Derek is beside her. Wordless. Focused. Ready.
Someone shouts, “Go! Go!” and a boot hits the door. It crashes inward.
They flood inside, guns drawn, eyes scanning.
JJ sees him. Before her brain even catches up, before her body knows what to feel. The man who took you. He stands in the center of the room like he’s been waiting. Like this was the plan all along. And he smiles.
He really smiles. It’s the kind of grin that turns her stomach.
Then, slowly, he reaches his hands behind his back.
“Drop the weapon! Hands where I can see them!” JJ yells, her voice cracking at the edges. There’s a tremor in it, rage, fear, desperation, and maybe that’s why he pauses. Just for a second. Long enough.
Someone else moves. A tackle. The weapon clatters to the floor. The unsub goes down hard. There’s shouting, metallic clinks of cuffs.
But JJ’s already gone.
She shoves past him, to the stairs leading down into the cold basement. She barely even sees him now.
She sees you.
And nothing else matters.
You’re suspended against the far wall, arms strung up above you, your weight sagging against the restraints. You’re bloodied, bruised, barely conscious. JJ stops cold for half a second, her heart threatening to split in two.
Then she’s moving, running.
She reaches up, fingers scrambling to undo the ropes, breath shaking. Your body is limp against her, toes just barely brushing the floor. She catches you as the restraints fall away, cradles you in her arms, lowering you gently.
“See? See, you're okay, right?” she’s saying, her voice breaking as she shifts to support your head, brushing hair away from your forehead with trembling fingers. “Y/N, come on, baby. Show me you're okay. Please.”
For a second, there’s nothing. Her blood runs cold.
Then, you groan. A wheezy, painful sound, but it’s you.
“Told you,” you rasp, barely audible, “being careful… not in the job description.”
JJ lets out a breath that’s half a laugh, half a sob. Her hands slide down to cup your face, her thumbs brushing over the dirt and blood.
“You’re an idiot,” she murmurs back, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to your temple, lingering. “You don’t get to be brave. Not like this. You just need to come home.”
Your voice is a whisper now, but it still reaches her.
“I am... home. Here. With you.”
JJ’s throat tightens. She blinks rapidly, pulling you in closer.
“We’re going to get you help. Medics are on the way. Just... just stay with me, okay? Eyes on me. Right here.”
Your eyelids flutter, struggling to stay open.
“And you?” you ask, voice thin. “You’ll… stay?”
She presses her forehead to yours, voice fierce and tender all at once.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Behind her, Derek’s voice breaks through, hushed and full of relief.
“She’s alive?”
JJ doesn’t turn around. She keeps her eyes on you, one hand clutching yours, the other smoothing over your hair.
“She’s okay.”
And maybe it’s not true yet.
But she’s here. And she’ll make it true.
xxxxxxxxxxxx
The room is quiet, too quiet, except for the rhythmic beep of the heart monitor. It’s sterile, cold in a way that has nothing to do with temperature.
You’re lying in the hospital bed, broken, bruised, but safe. For now. There's a fresh IV taped to the inside of your arm, the skin around it is still raw. Sterile sheets are tucked tight around you, and the scratch of gauze across your temple itches every time you shift.
You stare at the ceiling. Blank. Somewhere between exhausted and numb. Everything hurts, but it’s far away, like your body belongs to someone else.
A chair creaks softly beside you.
JJ sits there, still in her field clothes. Her bulletproof vest unzipped, dirt streaked across her cheek, hair pulled hastily back into a low ponytail. Her elbows rest on her knees, hands clasped tightly between them like she’s praying, though her eyes never close. Her coat lies on the floor nearby, twigs and leaves still clinging to the fabric.
She hasn’t left since they brought you in.
“You’re still here,” you croak out, voice raw and gravelly.
JJ’s head snaps up like she'd been holding her breath, and the second her eyes meet yours, her lips curve into a small, tired smile. “Told you I wouldn’t leave.”
You try to smile, too. It barely twitches at the corners of your mouth. Your throat works as you swallow. “You didn’t have to stay,” you rasp, gaze drifting toward the window. “I know it’s late. Or early. Or whatever…”
Your brow furrows. You’ve lost track of time. Of everything.
JJ sits back a little, expression unwavering. “You think I could sleep not knowing if you were okay?”
You blink, surprised, once more, by the steel in her voice.
“Everyone’s told me to go home,” she adds. “Hotch, the nurses… hell, even Derek. Don’t you start on me now.” Her tone softens just slightly, but the weight remains. “I thought you’d have my back.”
You let out a quiet exhale. You turn your head to look at her, slowly, stiffly, everything aching.
“Of course I do.” But there’s something behind your eyes. Something distant. JJ sees it instantly. You turn away, staring at the wall now, brows drawing together.
“Talk to me,” JJ says, voice still gentle, but more sure now. A command wrapped in concern.
Your lips part. It takes effort to speak. “He said a lot of things, you know,” you murmur. “About Derek. About… you.”
The air seems to shift. Heavy again.
Your eyes lock on hers, tentative but searching.
“He said I don’t belong. That I’m a liability.”
JJ goes still. Her jaw sets, shoulders tensing just slightly.
Then she leans forward again, eyes blazing, not with anger, but with fierce, protective conviction. “Then he’s just as much a liar as he is a monster.”
You hesitate. “You sure? ‘Cause I’m not exactly textbook BAU…”
JJ’s face softens just slightly, but there’s conviction in her voice. “Textbook agents don’t survive what you did,” she says, her voice growing more intense with every word. “You held on. You stayed strong. You fought. That doesn’t make you a liability. That makes you a warrior.”
She catches herself, breathing in deep, reining in the emotion that’s starting to creep into her tone.
“You being here doesn’t weaken us. It makes us stronger. You make us stronger.” Her fingers curl slightly against yours. “You make me stronger.”
Your breath catches. You blink rapidly, trying to laugh, but it gets caught halfway in your throat.
JJ notices, and her hand moves up to brush lightly against your cheek, carefully avoiding the bruises. Her touch is soft. Grounding.
“Hey,” she murmurs, “you don’t have to be tough right now. You don’t have to prove anything. Not to me. Not to anyone.”
Your eyes flutter shut for a second. “I didn’t want you to see me like this.”
“I just wanted to see you alive.”
The words hang in the air between you.
Then, JJ swallows. Her grip tightens just slightly.
“To tell you-” she starts, but breaks off, breath catching. “You scared me,” she says, finally. “And I don’t scare easy.”
You swallow hard. “That’s… that’s what you wanted to tell me?”
She huffs out a breath, part bitter laugh, part confession. “No.” Her gaze drops to where your hands are entwined, then lifts back to your face. “I watched that footage,” she says softly. “You tied up. Hurt. Bloody. And I didn’t blink. Not once. Because if I blinked, I might miss something. Anything. A sign that you were still fighting.”
You flinch, a trace of guilt shadowing your face. “You shouldn’t have watched that,” you whisper.
“I couldn’t look away. I couldn’t leave you alone.” Another long silence stretches between you. Heavier than the last. But this one isn’t from fear. It’s full of everything else. The words you both haven’t said.
You clear your throat softly. “I was scared too.”
JJ lets out a breath. It is long and slow, as though your honesty cracked something in her.
Her thumb strokes over your knuckles. She’s quiet for a beat. Then:
“I’ve loved you,” she says, voice hushed. “For a little while now. I didn’t say anything because... God, I don’t even know. Timing? Fear?” A bitter laugh. “Maybe I thought you already knew.”
“I think I did,” you whisper. Your eyes are glassy, but your voice is steady. “I just… didn’t let myself believe it.”
The tension between you slowly begins to melt. Not completely. But enough.
Outside the room, a familiar figure leans quietly against the doorframe. Derek Morgan watches with his arms crossed, an unreadable expression on his face. Then, slowly, he breaks into a small proud smile.
He shakes his head with a quiet exhale.“About damn time.”
xxxxxxxxxxxx
You wince as you limp down the corridor toward the bullpen, each step sending a dull throb through your body. Every inch of movement takes effort. You're immensely grateful for the elevator. Just the thought of climbing stairs makes your stomach turn. Even pressing the right button felt like a battle. But you push forward, jaw clenched, focusing on anything but the pain.
You're barely halfway down the hall when a familiar figure slips beside you. JJ. Two coffees in hand, and an expression of gentle exasperation mixed with something much softer, something closer to awe.
She gives you a once-over. “Where does it hurt?”
You smirk faintly. “Good morning to you too, sunshine.”
JJ’s lips twitch, but she doesn’t rise to the bait. “You shouldn’t be in.”
“I was going crazy sitting at home,” you reply with a shrug, or what passes for one. “Besides, I missed the paperwork. Thought I’d come back for all the fun.”
JJ raises an eyebrow and presses one of the coffee cups into your hand. “You’re lucky I brought you this.” She gives you a sidelong look. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Completely.” Then you pause. “Okay, well... not completely, but-”
“You should’ve stayed home.”
“JJ, I’m fine,” you insist, even as your steps falter slightly. “Just a few bruises.”
“You do remember I saw you, right?” Her voice dips, softer now. “I know what he did.”
“Just old bruises,” you say quickly.
“Oh, and a few dozen stitches, huh? No big deal.” She rises to your sarcasm but doesn’t give in.
You grin through the ache. “Exactly.”
JJ sighs. “You’re an idiot.”
“Doesn’t that just make you fall for me even more?”
“Hmm, no. Surprisingly, idiocy isn’t a selling point.”
“Oh come on,” you tease, trying to keep the air light, “normally this roguish charm works pretty well on the ladies.”
Her expression changes then. One that is sharper, more serious. She stops walking. “I saw what you went through,” she says, voice low. “I went through it with you. And I don’t need to recover from that by laughing it off. I need you to be honest with me.” Her eyes meet yours, unwavering. “You don’t have to pretend with me. Not now. Not ever.”
You hesitate. For a second, your shoulders drop, and the performance slips.
“Noted,” you murmur. “So the whole ‘I’m fine, tough as ever’ act is never going to work on you?”
Derek appears at your side and snorts. “You’re about as fine as a cracked sidewalk, Y/N. Sit down before you fall down.” He clicks his tongue disapprovingly, already guiding you toward your desk chair.
“I’ll sit when you admit I was always faster than you.” You grin, trying to straighten up, to prove you’re okay, slipping back into the old bravado.
“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles. “You were fast, whatever. Still dumb as hell trying to play hero over here, Frankenstein.”
“Oh, I get it,” you add, nodding at his joke, gesturing to the various stitches, “very clever—but just so you know, it’s Frankenstein’s monster—”
“Miss Know-It-All,” he groans, rolling his eyes. “We both know I copied all your English homework in school. Don’t start showing off now.”
You gasp with mock outrage. “Wow. I get tortured and this is the thanks I get?”
As he guides you into the chair, shaking his head with a chuckle, you smile.
Or try to.
The second you're sitting and his back is turned (he’s off to find some funny casework he’s been writing up and wants to show you) your expression crumples. Just a little. You exhale slowly, one hand drifting unconsciously to your side, fingers grazing the worst of your healing wounds.
JJ notices instantly, she’s been at your side the whole time, hovering lovingly. Her smile fades as she watches you.
“So, about that whole honesty thing…”
You don’t meet her eyes. “God, I know, JJ. It’s just… I hate being weak.”
JJ steps closer, perching on the corner of the desk nearest to you. There’s no judgment in her face. Just warmth. Understanding.
“You’re not weak,” she says firmly. “You got hurt. And instead of giving yourself time to heal, you’re pretending you’re okay because you’re scared of slowing down.”
“If I slow down,” you admit quietly, “I feel it. And if I feel it, I…” Your voice catches. “I remember too much.”
JJ doesn’t flinch. She just nods, like she’s known this all along.
“Then let me help you carry it,” she says, her hand finding yours again, anchoring you. You swallow thickly, emotion rising like a tide. Your eyes flick to hers, glassy now.
“I don’t want to be alone,” you whisper, squeezing her hand lightly.
“You’re not,” JJ says, steady as a vow.
She moves to the chair beside you and gently takes the coffee from your hand, slipping her arm around your shoulders with practiced care. You don’t resist. You let yourself lean into her, just a little, just enough.
“Come on,” she says. “You can heal at my place. No more pretending.”
“You sure?”
JJ smiles, this time soft and certain. “I’ve been sure. About this. About you. For weeks.”
Together, you stand (slowly) and start walking out of the bullpen (even slower). The world outside is still too bright, too loud... but for now, this is enough. You. Her. Moving slowly. Quietly. Together.
As you near the door, you glance back over your shoulder with a tired grin. Derek calls out your name, knowing, under his own bravado, that you’re still piecing yourself together.
“Don’t think this gets you out of paperwork forever, tough girl,” he warns with a wink.
“Just long enough to make you miss me,” you call back.
“Yeah, yeah. Next time, come back a little less mashed up, would you?” Derek mutters.
JJ’s breath hitches. She squeezes your side lightly.
He continues, softer now, “You gotta take care of yourself.” A pause, a glance at the woman next to you. “And let others take care of you, too.”
xxxxxxxxxxxx
Sunlight spills into the kitchen, soft and hazy. The world feels like it’s still waking up. Outside, birds call faintly, and somewhere nearby, coffee mugs clink gently.
JJ stands at the stove in a worn hoodie and leggings, hair pulled back in a messy bun. She moves quietly, instinctively, with one hand cradling a mug of coffee, the other flipping something in a pan.
Behind her, there was the shuffle of bare feet. She doesn’t need to turn around. “You’re up early.”
Your voice is still thick with sleep, a rasp clinging to the edges. “Didn’t mean to be. Your bed’s too comfortable.” You wrap your arms around her and press a kiss to her shoulder. “Too quiet, though.”
JJ turns to look at you, wrapped in the blanket the two of you slept with, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands. Your hair is a mess. Your eyes are still a little puffy. You look soft. Real.
She smiles. “I was going to bring you breakfast. You’re supposed to be milking this for all it’s worth.”
“I’m not so great at the whole ‘let someone take care of me’ thing,” you admit, easing away from her and settling into a chair, your body still aching. Less than before but always there.
JJ follows, plate in hand. “Lucky for you, I’m great at ignoring that.”
You chuckle as she slides the plate in front of you, scrambled eggs, toast, sliced fruit. Simple. But it feels like more than that.
“You didn’t have to do all this.” Your shoulders tense, caught between gratitude and guilt.
“I know,” she says softly. “I wanted to.” And with that, the guilt dissolves, “You take care of everyone else,” she adds. “Let me do it for you. Just for a while.”
You look down at the plate, blinking a little too fast. Your voice, when it comes, is barely above a whisper.
“It’s just... he said I was forgettable. That I’d disappear, and no one would even notice.”
JJ doesn’t speak right away. She steps around the counter, slipping her arms gently around you from behind, chin resting on your shoulder, mirroring how you’d held her earlier.
“I noticed,” she says. “Every minute you were gone. I couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t breathe.”
You lean back against her. Let your eyes flutter shut. “And while I’m being honest,” you murmur, “I was afraid I’d never see you again. That I’d never get this. Just… a quiet morning. With you.”
JJ presses a kiss to your ear. “You’re not going anywhere,” she whispers. “Not if I have anything to say about it.” She leans forward, kissing your cheek. “And I do,” she adds, warm and certain. “I have lots to say about it.”
A quiet beat.
“JJ?”
She moves to sit beside you, her hand trailing to rest gently on your thigh. She touches you often, grounding you, and you're grateful for it.
“Yeah?”
“I’m so glad I have you.”
JJ’s smile softens. “I’m glad I have you too.”
xxxxxxxxxxxx
The sun is low now, casting warm amber light across the yard, painting long shadows that sway with the breeze. The air is soft, still holding onto the last of the day’s warmth. You and JJ sit side by side on the porch steps, her thigh pressed gently against yours. The silence between you is companionable, comfortable in a way it wasn’t just a week ago. You’ve settled in what is close to a domestic life over the past week. Her hand rests near yours on the step, not quite touching, but close enough to count.
You’ve taken time to heal, together. Just the two of you. No work involved.
The back gate creaks open.
“Well damn,” a familiar voice calls, all swagger and affection. “So you are alive.”
Derek Morgan’s grin is unmistakable as he strolls in, flanked by the rest of the BAU. Garcia’s bright hair catches the light, Rossi’s hands are caught in his pockets, and Spencer lingers just behind, his smile small but sincere.
Your head jerks toward them, breath catching. You laugh, a sound halfway between a choke and a sigh of relief. JJ squeezes your shoulder and rises, giving you a knowing look before slipping quietly inside, letting the team filter past her into the house. She doesn’t need to say anything. She knows you need this moment.
Derek takes his time walking up to you. There’s mischief in his eyes, sure, but it’s softened around the edges. Protective. Grateful. His hands are in his pockets, but his posture is open and grounded.
“Took you long enough,” you say, smirking through the emotion building behind your ribs.
“Traffic was hell,” he shoots back. “Also had to emotionally prepare for how bad you probably smell, cooped up, recovering.”
You roll your eyes, but Derek’s smile falters as he gets a better look at you, really sees you. You're not quite the same. There’s still pain in your eyes, exhaustion in the lines of your face. But there’s colour in your skin again. Strength, even in your stillness. A light that wasn’t there before.
He closes the last few feet and pulls you into a hug. Not a tentative one. Not the kind people give when they’re worried you’ll break. A real one. Fierce. Familiar.
You melt into it, letting your arms wrap tight around him, clinging a second longer than you mean to.
“You okay?” you ask, voice low now.
You pull back just enough to look at him. He shakes his head, smiling, “I should be asking you that.”
You snort, eyes scanning him again. “I’m good. Better now.” You pause, hesitate, before deciding you have to tell him and tell him now, “JJ and I…” You pause. “We’re… something.”
Derek grins. “Oh, I knew that a long time ago.” He nudges your side. “Neither one of you subtle types could hide it if you tried. Big brother instincts don’t lie.” He softens, “She’s brought you back to being you over this past week. I never thought that was just a friendship.”
You laugh, eyes glinting. “Rumor has it you had a pool going. You were targeting Em.”
“Please.” He waves it off. “Look at you... traumatized, stubborn, full of backtalk. It’s like we never left Chicago.”
“Don’t forget emotionally repressed and slightly feral.”
“Mmm. Only slightly?” He tilts his head toward the house, then back to you. “She takes good care of you, though. Right?”
You nod, gaze softening. “Always did. Even when I didn’t know how to let her.”
Derek’s smile fades into something more heartfelt. His brow furrows slightly, like he’s holding back the weight of everything that could’ve been lost.
“You scared the hell outta all of us,” he says quietly. “You know that, right?”
Your throat tightens, but you meet his gaze. “I was scared too. I thought... I thought I’d disappear, and no one would notice.”
His expression hardens, gentle but fierce. “Hey. Look at me.”
You do.
“We’re family. We don’t let each other go out like that. You didn’t disappear. You lit up a goddamn flare. JJ nearly burned the world down getting to you.”
That breaks something open inside you, and you laugh, wiping quickly at your eyes.
“Yeah,” you whisper. “She’s like that.”
Derek pulls you back into a brief hug, one hand ruffling your hair before he releases you. “You deserve this. Her. All of it. You always did.”
You smile, the kind that sticks. The kind that means something.
“You’re gonna make me cry again, man.”
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t go soft on me now,” he teases. “You still owe me a drink when you’re done milking the whole ‘recovering hostage’ angle.”
From inside the house, JJ’s voice rings out: “Wine? Both of you?”
The sound of laughter follows, Garcia’s high and bright, Spencer’s soft and amused, Rossi muttering something about finally opening the good bottle.
“I’m in,” Derek calls back. “We both are.”
He throws an arm around your shoulders, tugging you close as you both head toward the door. You lean into him for a step longer than needed but he doesn’t mind. He just squeezes your shoulder.
“You got your people now, sweetheart,” he says, nodding toward the house. “Don’t forget that.”
Your hand brushes the doorway as you step inside. Warmth, light, voices. A second chance waiting on the other side.
You smile, real and certain. “I won’t ever forget.”
