Home Invasion: Chapter 11
Title: Home Invasion: Chapter 11
Author: ficdirectory
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/Characters JJ, Prentiss, Garcia, Hotch, Morgan, Reid, Rossi
Spoilers: N/A
Words: 9,657 - Chapter 11/11
Summary: The BAU is caught unaware on a night off, and find themselves victims of a home invasion.
Though we travel the world over to find the beautiful, we must carry it with us or we find it not.
- Ralph Waldo Emerson
It feels like deja vu stepping through the door of Derek's house, six months later. But they have all decided it is time. It might be okay but for the fact that Derek remains the most stubborn person in the entire world. Anyone else, JJ knows, would have moved. But Derek insists that nobody is going to tell scare him out of his house.
Rossi, she knows, has shown up without incident, and why wouldn't he? He didn't have any demons waiting to haunt him walking in there. In fact, when JJ finally forced herself to get out of the car and walk inside, she found Derek and Rossi in the kitchen, trading pizza secrets.
"It's in the sauce," Rossi is saying, as JJ slips in, glancing behind her for the millionth time. She breathes a sigh of relief when she sees the two men in the kitchen.
"Don't worry, I checked," Derek reassures, coming over and resting flour-covered hands on her upper arms, leaving his handprints behind on her dark suit jacket.
Though JJ doesn't say anything, and keeps her own arms crossed, Derek draws her to him. Hugs her fiercely. Six months ago, she might have pushed him away, laughed it off, or been embarrassed. Now, she breathes a sigh of relief.
"Come on," he invites. "See if you can get Rossi to give up the secret to his secret sauce..."
JJ clears her throat, and tries to smile. She approaches at Rossi's right side - his stirring side - and waits.
"Well?" she asks.
"Here. Taste," he invites, cupping a hand under the serving spoon and offering it to her.
Instinct has JJ doing as he says, her eyes widening in shock and appreciation. "Wow. What's in this?" she asks innocently, remembering Derek's words.
Rossi laughs, a warm and easy sound. "Not a chance," he says, but he pulls her close, in a rare show of affection. JJ lets out a breath she isn't aware she's been holding. She absorbs the heat of the stove, the smell of the sauce simmering and the safety of being near someone she trusts. And then she hears Rossi's whisper, like a prayer, somewhere above her head.
"Don't worry. I'll take care of you."
--
Emily walks confidently, her knee finally out of that damn brace. She doesn't limp. She doesn't bitch. She moves confidently, daring anyone to mess with her. When she arrives at the front door, she knocks brusquely and is admitted by Morgan, who greets her with a smile and an observation.
"Thought it was Hotch."
"Why would you think that?" she asks. It comes out a little harsher than she means it to, but Morgan keeps smiling.
"You knock like a man, woman."
"Oh, really." It's not a question. Her hands go to her hips and when he comes toward her, to embrace her, she backs off.
"JJ, I hope you're supervising things in here so we don't starve," Emily calls, trying to lighten the mood. Her tone. Everything.
"Oh, trust me. I'm not. I'm just the taste-tester," she offers with a wan smile. She can see in JJ's eyes that things are registering - that she is remembering.
The table where Emily was cuffed. Her knee throbs in sympathy. The scratches are still there, from her fight to escape. They both mock her and salute her.
Emily shakes her head, clearing it.
Yes, she was chained there. But she's not anymore.
She is free now.
That's all that matters.
--
"See, the great thing about it is that my beliefs are tailored especially for me. Kind of like a perfect dress..." Garcia trails off and stares at Spencer who is staring back, his expression open, his wit lurking in the background just waiting for an opportunity to make an appearance.
"Okay, scratch that..." she amends, making a scribbling motion with the hand unencumbered by her purse. He holds the door open for her, a strange foreboding gripping him.
Instead of rushing to fill the silence, and cover the feeling, with various facts he knows about world religions, Spencer forces himself to breathe. Garcia, meanwhile, keeps talking.
"A tailored suit!" she exclaims and when he says nothing, she looks back. He is standing on the steps, door in hand, biting his lip. He looks handsome with his purple scarf accenting all the muted colors he wears, but his face is clearly troubled.
Garcia backs out the door and stands beside him, silent.
"I don't know why this scares me..." he manages in a tiny voice. "...when I can't remember it."
"Maybe your brilliant subconscious does," Garcia offers gently.
"Maybe," he shrugs, unconvinced, and then, notices what she is offering.
"Here. Hold my hand. We'll go in together," she says, and when he acquiesces, she, too, breathes a sigh of relief.
--
Hotch arrives last, casually dressed, a little rumpled, and offering a strained smile.
This doesn't bother him. In fact, this falls fairly low on Hotch's list of bothersome things. He comes because it matters to his team. Because they need him and he needs them.
They are all sitting down, so Hotch walks up, too, pulling out a chair to join them.
--
This has transformed them, JJ knows.
Emily is more independent. Rossi is more protective. Derek is demonstrative in his affection outside of just Garcia. Garcia is equally likely to be sidelined by depression or continuing to nurture a friendship on any given day. Spencer is more introspective. Hotch, if possible, is steadier. And as for herself? JJ doesn't have time to list the ways this has changed her, but she knows she isn't alone in the change. She knows they all have nightmares. They all look over their shoulders, that it's not just her. They all have triggers. They are all nervous.
To JJ, though, the cracks she sees in her friends' exteriors, and the ones they can see in her... These don't signify that they have been broken.
Cracks mean they are healing.
When Hotch arrives, and they're all around the table like they should be, JJ finally settles in. Her heartrate slows to normal rather than the gallop it has been. The tension eases out of her shoulders. Picking up her slice of pizza, she takes a bite, and nearly moans in pleasure. It's that good.
She looks around the table at each face. Most are at ease. Spencer's, for one, isn't, but JJ actually takes that as a good sign. He isn't trying to mask everything. She catches his eye and offers him a small nod. A smile.
"Miss you," he mouths, his gaze intense and direct across the table.
She gets up then, with no excuse, and embraces Spencer from behind. He looks startled, but pleased.
"What's this for?" he asks, holding onto his pizza, not her.
"You can't miss me if I'm right here, can you?" she asks, her voice low and completely serious in his ear.
"No, I guess not," he muses quietly, relaxing in her grip. "I guess not."
And with her embrace, truth descends upon him. It's not loud and frightening. Nor is it timid and ashamed. It's just here, among them. A fact.
He is okay.
They are all okay.
Author: ficdirectory
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/Characters JJ, Prentiss, Garcia, Hotch, Morgan, Reid, Rossi
Spoilers: N/A
Words: 9,657 - Chapter 11/11
Summary: The BAU is caught unaware on a night off, and find themselves victims of a home invasion.
Though we travel the world over to find the beautiful, we must carry it with us or we find it not.
- Ralph Waldo Emerson
It feels like deja vu stepping through the door of Derek's house, six months later. But they have all decided it is time. It might be okay but for the fact that Derek remains the most stubborn person in the entire world. Anyone else, JJ knows, would have moved. But Derek insists that nobody is going to tell scare him out of his house.
Rossi, she knows, has shown up without incident, and why wouldn't he? He didn't have any demons waiting to haunt him walking in there. In fact, when JJ finally forced herself to get out of the car and walk inside, she found Derek and Rossi in the kitchen, trading pizza secrets.
"It's in the sauce," Rossi is saying, as JJ slips in, glancing behind her for the millionth time. She breathes a sigh of relief when she sees the two men in the kitchen.
"Don't worry, I checked," Derek reassures, coming over and resting flour-covered hands on her upper arms, leaving his handprints behind on her dark suit jacket.
Though JJ doesn't say anything, and keeps her own arms crossed, Derek draws her to him. Hugs her fiercely. Six months ago, she might have pushed him away, laughed it off, or been embarrassed. Now, she breathes a sigh of relief.
"Come on," he invites. "See if you can get Rossi to give up the secret to his secret sauce..."
JJ clears her throat, and tries to smile. She approaches at Rossi's right side - his stirring side - and waits.
"Well?" she asks.
"Here. Taste," he invites, cupping a hand under the serving spoon and offering it to her.
Instinct has JJ doing as he says, her eyes widening in shock and appreciation. "Wow. What's in this?" she asks innocently, remembering Derek's words.
Rossi laughs, a warm and easy sound. "Not a chance," he says, but he pulls her close, in a rare show of affection. JJ lets out a breath she isn't aware she's been holding. She absorbs the heat of the stove, the smell of the sauce simmering and the safety of being near someone she trusts. And then she hears Rossi's whisper, like a prayer, somewhere above her head.
"Don't worry. I'll take care of you."
--
Emily walks confidently, her knee finally out of that damn brace. She doesn't limp. She doesn't bitch. She moves confidently, daring anyone to mess with her. When she arrives at the front door, she knocks brusquely and is admitted by Morgan, who greets her with a smile and an observation.
"Thought it was Hotch."
"Why would you think that?" she asks. It comes out a little harsher than she means it to, but Morgan keeps smiling.
"You knock like a man, woman."
"Oh, really." It's not a question. Her hands go to her hips and when he comes toward her, to embrace her, she backs off.
"JJ, I hope you're supervising things in here so we don't starve," Emily calls, trying to lighten the mood. Her tone. Everything.
"Oh, trust me. I'm not. I'm just the taste-tester," she offers with a wan smile. She can see in JJ's eyes that things are registering - that she is remembering.
The table where Emily was cuffed. Her knee throbs in sympathy. The scratches are still there, from her fight to escape. They both mock her and salute her.
Emily shakes her head, clearing it.
Yes, she was chained there. But she's not anymore.
She is free now.
That's all that matters.
--
"See, the great thing about it is that my beliefs are tailored especially for me. Kind of like a perfect dress..." Garcia trails off and stares at Spencer who is staring back, his expression open, his wit lurking in the background just waiting for an opportunity to make an appearance.
"Okay, scratch that..." she amends, making a scribbling motion with the hand unencumbered by her purse. He holds the door open for her, a strange foreboding gripping him.
Instead of rushing to fill the silence, and cover the feeling, with various facts he knows about world religions, Spencer forces himself to breathe. Garcia, meanwhile, keeps talking.
"A tailored suit!" she exclaims and when he says nothing, she looks back. He is standing on the steps, door in hand, biting his lip. He looks handsome with his purple scarf accenting all the muted colors he wears, but his face is clearly troubled.
Garcia backs out the door and stands beside him, silent.
"I don't know why this scares me..." he manages in a tiny voice. "...when I can't remember it."
"Maybe your brilliant subconscious does," Garcia offers gently.
"Maybe," he shrugs, unconvinced, and then, notices what she is offering.
"Here. Hold my hand. We'll go in together," she says, and when he acquiesces, she, too, breathes a sigh of relief.
--
Hotch arrives last, casually dressed, a little rumpled, and offering a strained smile.
This doesn't bother him. In fact, this falls fairly low on Hotch's list of bothersome things. He comes because it matters to his team. Because they need him and he needs them.
They are all sitting down, so Hotch walks up, too, pulling out a chair to join them.
--
This has transformed them, JJ knows.
Emily is more independent. Rossi is more protective. Derek is demonstrative in his affection outside of just Garcia. Garcia is equally likely to be sidelined by depression or continuing to nurture a friendship on any given day. Spencer is more introspective. Hotch, if possible, is steadier. And as for herself? JJ doesn't have time to list the ways this has changed her, but she knows she isn't alone in the change. She knows they all have nightmares. They all look over their shoulders, that it's not just her. They all have triggers. They are all nervous.
To JJ, though, the cracks she sees in her friends' exteriors, and the ones they can see in her... These don't signify that they have been broken.
Cracks mean they are healing.
When Hotch arrives, and they're all around the table like they should be, JJ finally settles in. Her heartrate slows to normal rather than the gallop it has been. The tension eases out of her shoulders. Picking up her slice of pizza, she takes a bite, and nearly moans in pleasure. It's that good.
She looks around the table at each face. Most are at ease. Spencer's, for one, isn't, but JJ actually takes that as a good sign. He isn't trying to mask everything. She catches his eye and offers him a small nod. A smile.
"Miss you," he mouths, his gaze intense and direct across the table.
She gets up then, with no excuse, and embraces Spencer from behind. He looks startled, but pleased.
"What's this for?" he asks, holding onto his pizza, not her.
"You can't miss me if I'm right here, can you?" she asks, her voice low and completely serious in his ear.
"No, I guess not," he muses quietly, relaxing in her grip. "I guess not."
And with her embrace, truth descends upon him. It's not loud and frightening. Nor is it timid and ashamed. It's just here, among them. A fact.
He is okay.
They are all okay.