we're gonna figure it out.
emily leaves work an hour early. not because she asks—because jj nudges her out the door, practically shoving her toward the elevator.
“go home,” jj tells her, her voice firm but her eyes gentle. “we don’t have anything going on, and you’ve been staring at the clock for the last thirty minutes like you’re about to set it on fire. go get your girl.”
emily hesitates, but jj just shakes her head.
“don’t argue with me, em. you need this. she does too.”
emily swallows, but she nods. jj smiles, pressing a quick squeeze to emily’s arm. “i’ll be over right after work. i’ve got a change of clothes in my car, so i don’t need to stop home first.”
emily blinks. “you—?”
“drop and go cases,” jj shrugs. “i keep extras in my go bag, which you should probably start doing. perks of the job, right?”
emily exhales, something in her chest unraveling. “yeah… right.”
and with that— she goes. to get her girl, just like jj said.
her heart aches the second she steps into the daycare. she barely has time to register anything, barely can pick the pen to sign aria out - because the moment she opens the door, aria sees her - nothing could have prepared her for the way aria throws herself into her arms the second she opens the door.
“emmy!”
pure excitement, but more than anything? relief. like for a moment, just a second, she thought maybe emily wasn’t coming back. maybe emily was still mad.
emily barely has time to react before aria is bounding toward her, arms outstretched, feet hitting the floor fast, her little body practically launching itself forward. emily doesn’t hesitate. she catches her, pulling her close, holding her so tight she feels aria’s little heartbeat thudding against her chest.
“oh, baby,” she breathes, pressing a kiss into her hair, rubbing her back, memorizing the weight of her in her arms.
aria smiles just a tad, which warms emily’s heart. though, her breath catches in her throat silently. aria’s cheeks are still red. evidence of the hours she spent crying. chapped from where she rubbed at them with tiny fists, from where tears dried against soft skin - chapped because emily didn’t exactly help the situation before.
emily’s stomach twists, guilt creeping up her spine, sitting thick in her throat. she presses another kiss into aria’s curls, rocking her slightly, trying to soothe something—whether it’s for aria or for herself, she’s not sure.
“i missed you, baby,” she whispers.
aria sinks into her arms.
melanie spots her first, offering a knowing smile as she approaches. melanie is one of aria’s teachers. her favorite one. she’s always looked soft—blonde curls that frame her face, kind brown eyes, and a voice that is always gentle, even in the midst of managing a room full of toddlers. she’s warm, patient, the kind of person kids don’t hesitate to run to, the kind of person aria has never shied away from.
and today? today, emily feels overwhelmingly grateful for her.
melanie gives aria’s back a soft pat, rubbing slow, comforting circles as aria tucks herself further into emily’s chest, still clinging to her like she’s afraid to let go.
“she wanted to be held a lot today,” melanie says, her voice light, affectionate. “so she was teacher’s assistant.”
she gives emily a little wink, and emily lets out a quiet breath, shaking her head. emily wishes she was able to hold her, but is happy there is someone who will do it when she can’t.
and to be fair, aria practically has everyone here wrapped around her little finger. she’s the youngest in her class, bumped up to the three-year-old room because she was getting bored in the two-year-old class. emily had gotten the call about it a few weeks back—she’s ahead in a lot of things for her age, she seems restless, we think she’d benefit from being with the older group.
so she’s been here ever since. and, being the baby of the class, she usually gets a little extra cuddle time anyway.
today? apparently, she really needed it - because of course, she did. why would she not after what happened? emily blinks, pulling herself out of her thoughts, shifting aria against her chest as she turns toward her.
melanie gives her a knowing look—one that says she knows emily had a hard time leaving this morning, one that says she knows how much emily’s been worrying all day. one that says she knows most likely happened, because she’s seen hundreds of parents come in and leave with the same expression emily is wearing now.
“she was a little quiet, though,” melanie adds, giving aria a gentle pat on the back. “not upset, just… quiet.”
emily nods, feeling that familiar ache in her chest. “yeah,” she admits, shifting slightly. “it’s been going on for a few weeks now, but this week has been… rough.”
melanie nods, understanding.
“sometimes speech regression happens,” she says gently. “with change. with toddlerhood in general. it’s not uncommon, emily.”
emily forces herself to breathe. she knows that. she’s read that. but it doesn’t feel like just regression, it just feels like emily is failing her. still—she nods, swallowing against the lump in her throat.
“yeah… yeah, that makes sense.”
emily watches as melanie tucks a stray curl behind aria’s ear before slipping her hands into her cardigan pockets, shifting her weight slightly.
“she ate well at snack, napped great—” melanie starts listing off, and emily listens, soaks in every word like it’s something she’s required to memorize, like it’s evidence that aria was okay today, that she wasn’t completely broken by what happened this morning.
”—and she wanted to draw pictures all day for you. there’s about 28 scribble drawings shoved in that ladybug backpack right now.”
emily lets out a soft breath, finally allowing a small smile to tug at her lips. “of course there are.”
melanie grins, giving aria one last affectionate rub on the back before stepping away. “she was very serious about it, too. wouldn’t let us look at them. they’re for emmy.”
emily swallows, and squeezes aria just a little tighter.
“thank you,” she says again, and she means it.
melanie just nods, still smiling. emily checks aria out, carrying her all the way to the suv, whispering softly to her as she moves, even though aria still doesn’t respond.
the walk to the car is quiet, emily whispers to her the whole time, soft reassurances, tiny murmurs against her hair.
“i missed you so much today, bug.”
aria doesn’t say anything, just tucks her face into emily’s shoulder, gripping her shirt with tiny, fistfuls of fabric.
“i love you so much, baby. so, so much.”
aria presses her face deeper into emily’s chest, and emily keeps talking. keeps whispering. keeps telling her every soft thing she can think of. but aria never responds. never hums. never reacts the way she usually does. and when emily finally gets to the suv and sets her down to buckle her in— she notices it immediately.
aria doesn’t try to help. for months now, aria has insisted on helping—on holding the buckle, on guiding the strap, on doing something to be involved.
not today. today, she just stares down at emily’s hands as they work, as they secure her safely in the seat. she’s watching, but she’s not participating.
emily feels like she might crumble on the spot.
she exhales shakily, brushing a hand over aria’s curls when she’s done, tucking them behind her ears, searching her little face. that’s when aria looks back up at her, and smiles.
not a real smile, a half smile. lips closed, just the left side of her mouth curling up a little— like she’s checking.
like she’s asking you still love me, right?
and then before emily can even process the feelings that single look gave her, aria speaks.
“i no cry, ‘tay emmy?”
it’s small. so small. emily stops breathing, because aria nods as she says it and smiles a little more. like she’s convincing both of them. like she’s telling emily see, i’m good now, you don’t have to be upset with me anymore.
emily feels like her heart is being physically ripped from her chest. she doesn’t think, she just moves. she opens the door more, shifts onto the floorboard, kneeling in front of the car seat, cupping aria’s tiny cheeks in her hands.
“honey..”
aria blinks. emily tilts her head, making sure she’s looking at her.
“you are always allowed to cry, baby. always. especially with me.”
aria just stares. her big, uncertain eyes watching emily, searching for something she’s too little to name. emily rubs her thumbs over her cheeks, over the chapped skin, memorizing the way she looks at this exact second, because she never wants to see that look again.
“you don’t have to be strong for me, okay? that’s not your job. you are so allowed to be sad, bug. you are so allowed to tell me when something is wrong.”
aria doesn’t respond, she just lets emily hold her cheeks. lets her press another firm kiss to her forehead, murmuring ‘emmy is so sorry baby’. lets her breathe her in, lets her rock her slightly despite already being buckled.
emily never wants to let go. she stays there for another minute, pressing one last kiss to her temple before finally pulling back, smoothing down her hair.
“i love you, baby. so, so much.”
aria blinks slowly, and then she nods. emily swallows against the lump in her throat, forcing herself to stand up, to close the door, to move to the driver’s seat.
she makes herself a promise. they’re going to be okay. they’re going to figure this out.
the drive home is quiet.
aria is silent in the back seat, her pacifier that emily slipped her before she closed the door bobbing slightly as she stares out the window, watching the buildings pass, her little fingers clutching the edge of her blanket. the radio is on—barely. it’s an afterthought to emily, something she turned on out of habit rather than any real intention of listening.
because all she’s doing, all she can do is spiral. her hands grip the steering wheel a little too tightly, her knuckles turning white as her mind loops itself into the ground.
aria assumes she can’t cry to her anymore.
that’s what she’s telling herself.
that’s what emily made her think.
she assumes emily doesn’t want to hear it.
she assumes that because she can’t find her words right now, because something in her is holding them back, that it must mean emily is mad at her.
that it must mean she’s done something wrong.
emily feels physically sick. she blinks hard, staring at the road, trying to shove the guilt down, and then something pulls her out of it. it’s soft. so soft that emily isn’t even sure she hears it right at first. a tiny, little hum. barely there, but there enough. emily glances in the rearview mirror, her heart stuttering in her chest.
aria’s lips, they’re moving just slightly. like she recognizes something. and of course she does.
because of the radio station, beautiful soul by jesse mccartney is playing. aria loves that song. it’s one of the songs that emily has consistently seen light up her little face, no matter where they are, no matter how tired she is.
emily’s breath catches, because it’s not much. it’s barely anything at all. but when she looks back, she swears she sees the smallest curve of aria’s lips. just the tiniest one.
because music does make aria happy. it always has.
emily breathes in. steady. focused. she needs to try, she needs to do something. because if she just sits in this—if she just keeps spiraling, keeps drowning in the fear that aria is pulling away from her, that she’s somehow made her feel like she can’t talk—she’s going to lose her mind.
she spent hours the other night researching everything she could on speech regression.
sat in bed, hunched over her macbook, clicking through articles, forums, studies, until the thing was so hot it felt like she could actually cook on it.
and what stuck with her the most? narration. talk. say everything. integrate speech into everything. so she does, she forces herself to even though she feels ridiculous. even though she doesn’t even know if it’ll work. she exhales, her grip on the steering wheel loosening just slightly, and starts.
“okay, bug,” she murmurs, keeping her voice soft, keeping it light. “we’re driving home now. it’s almost five o’clock. we’re gonna get home, get inside, and then guess what?”
she glances at the mirror. aria’s still watching out the window, but her fingers curl slightly against her blanket, the smallest shift in her body. emily pushes forward.
“jj’s coming over tonight.”
she watches for a reaction. aria blinks, now looking up towards her in the rearview mirror. emily smiles, just a little.
“she’s gonna have dinner with us. we’re gonna eat, and we’re gonna hang out, and you know what? i bet she’s gonna wanna see all those pictures you drew today.”
aria shifts again, her brows raising just a bit. emily breathes out, nodding slightly to herself.
“yeah, i think she’ll really wanna see them.”
aria’s pacifier bobs in her mouth. emily sees the tiniest motion in the mirror— a nod. a silent one, and emily grabs onto it because it’s a start.
emily continues because this time of day—this exact drive home—is usually filled with aria rambling on and on, telling emily every single detail about her day, sometimes three times over just to make sure she heard her.
but of course she isn’t. she’s quiet, and she’s usually never quiet. usually, right about now, she’d be taking a deep breath, tilting her head up toward the front seat and asking in that sweet, curious little voice— “why do ‘day?”
she always wants to know.
always wants to hear about emily’s day, even though she barely understands what the fbi is, even though she doesn’t really get what her job is, even though emily tells her the same thing most days— “emmy worked today, bug. emmy helped people today.”
but today? today, aria doesn’t ask, and emily hates it. so she tries.
“what did you do at school today?”
she glances in the rearview mirror. aria shrugs. just a small, simple shrug. it hurts to see because that’s not aria, that’s not her kid. emily wants to push. wants to keep asking, wants to tell her that she wants to hear about her day, that she loves when she tells her things, that she misses it so damn much— but she doesn’t.
instead, she talks about her day, because maybe following the routine will help.
“i had a busy day at work, bug,” emily starts, her voice soft, casual, like this is normal, like this is the same conversation they always have. “did lots of reading. lots of paperwork. you know, boring stuff.”
aria stays quiet, but emily doesn’t stop.
“jj helped me today. you know what she did? she made me go home early. said i needed to go see you, ‘cause i missed you so much today.”
she watches in the mirror, aria is listening clearly, leaned forward a bit, but she still doesn’t say anything. emily breathes out, and keeps going.
“and guess what else?” she says, smiling just a little, forcing the lightness into her voice. “i had a sandwich for lunch, and it was not as good as the ones i make at home. i think maybe i need you to make me one next time. maybe we can use your kitchen when we get home?”
she watches, waits. aria’s pacifier bobs in her mouth. emily tries again.
“what did you do today, bug?”
silence. a pause.
“p’ay colors.”
play colors. she colored today.
emily exhales. it’s small, barely anything at all, but it’s something.
“oh, yeah?” emily grins, encouraging it. “what colors, baby?”
aria blinks, thinking. emily waits.
“boo.”
emily nods, biting the inside of her cheek to stop herself from getting emotional over one single word.
“blue is a great color,” emily murmurs, nodding along, encouraging her. “did you draw with it? was it in your pictures for me?”
aria nods once, and emily’s heart clenches.
“i can’t wait to see them, baby.”
aria hums softly, pressing her cheek into her blanket. emily holds onto this moment like it’s the most precious thing in the world.
when they get home, emily doesn’t hesitate. she carries aria straight to her room, the little girl tucked against her chest, her arms loosely wrapped around emily’s neck, still quiet but present.
emily keeps talking, narrating. even though she still feels ridiculous doing it, even though aria isn’t responding much—she doesn’t stop.
“alright, bug, first things first—we’re gonna get you out of this uniform, huh? i know you don’t like wearing it much anyway.”
she sets aria down gently, steadying her as she wobbles slightly, tiny hands gripping the fabric of emily’s shirt for a second before letting go. emily crouches, starting to unbutton the little navy polo shirt, the one with the embroidered daycare emblem on the chest.
she still thinks it’s a little silly that a daycare requires uniforms. but then again, it’s a private daycare. high tuition. strict safety policies. a few people emily met in the bureau send their kids here, and that alone makes her feel better about it.
even if she still thinks putting a toddler in a tiny polo and plaid skirt every single day is a little over the top. she pulls the shirt off carefully, tossing it into the small hamper in the corner before tugging her little skirt down, leaving her in just her diaper and ruffled socks.
aria rubs her eyes, little fingers pressing against her chapped cheeks, her whole body looser now that she’s out of her uniform. emily smiles, brushing back her curls.
“okay, let’s get you into something cozy…”
she moves quickly, pulling three different options from the drawers—soft, comfortable options. she lays them out on the floor carefully, making sure aria can see them all.
a pair of light pink leggings and a cream long-sleeve shirt with little teddy bears printed on it.
a gray two-piece set—sweatpants and a matching oversized sweater, one of emily’s personal favorites.
a navy-blue cotton romper, short-sleeved with little buttons down the front, one of aria’s go-to choices in the summer but still just as cozy now.
emily sits back on her heels, rubbing a hand down aria’s back.
“alright, baby, we’ve got three choices today. we’ve got the teddy bear shirt with pink pants—that one looks pretty comfy, huh? then we’ve got the soft gray one that i love, super warm and cozy. and then your blue romper, i know you like that one too.”
she watches. waits. aria stares at them for a second, her little brows furrowing, her fingers curling slightly like she’s thinking very hard about this decision. emily gives her time, she doesn’t rush her, doesn’t push.
aria steps forward finally and places her tiny hands on the gray sweat set.
and then a soft, quiet.
“g’ey.”
emily exhales so softly it barely makes a sound.
“gray it is, baby,” she murmurs, pressing a quick kiss to aria’s hair before reaching for the clothes.
emily lays her down gently, her hands steady, careful. aria is so small beneath her palms, her little belly soft and warm, rising and falling steadily with each tiny breath.
without thinking, emily leans down, pressing a soft, playful kiss to her bare tummy like she always does— and the sweetest little giggle escapes aria’s lips. its quiet, but soft. pure. unfiltered.
it’s the best noise in the world.
emily grins, heart swelling, pressing another quick kiss just to hear it again. aria squirms, her little hands pressing against emily’s shoulder, her giggle turning just a bit louder.
“ticklish, huh?” emily murmurs, soaking in the moment, breathing it in, because this—this is what she needs. she tugs the waistband of the sweatpants up over aria’s little legs, smoothing the fabric down, making sure they sit just right.
the doorbell rings just as emily smoothes down the fabric. emily pauses. aria freezes. her little brows raise, her big eyes flickering up at emily, something bright flickering behind them.
she remembers. she knows who’s supposed to come.
and then she speaks. god, she speaks.
“jayje ‘ere?”
emily swears she forgets how to breathe. it’s small, but it’s clear. her little girl, waiting for an answer, her expression hopeful, her voice steady despite how little she’s spoken in days. emily’s heart stumbles over itself, her throat tightening, her vision blurring just slightly before she nods quickly, brushing aria’s curls back.
“yeah, baby,” she breathes, voice warm, gentle. “jj’s here.”
aria rolls over, pushes herself up onto her hands, blinking up at emily like she’s waiting. like she’s already saying— “aren’t you gonna get the door?” emily smirks, shaking her head slightly, pressing a quick pat to aria’s back before pushing herself up to stand.
“alright, alright, i’m going, bug.”
she steps out of the room, and aria—of course—follows behind her, her socked feet padding softly against the hardwood floor. right behind her? sergio. slinking down the hall, his tail flicking, his entire presence screaming i go where the child goes now - she is mine.
emily reaches the door, exhales once, and pulls it open.
there’s jj, standing there with an entire armload of things. a grocery bag, a second bag slung over her shoulder, and a bright smile. emily just stares for a second, blinking at the sheer amount of things jj has somehow balanced.
jj opens her mouth, ready to greet her, but then— her eyes flick behind emily, and her whole body warms. because right there, toddling up behind, is aria. not her usual “jayje!” excitement, not the little bounce she sometimes does when she spots jj in the bullpen at work.
but she still comes, still seeks her out. aria stops, pressing her little hands against emily’s leg, peering out from behind her, still quiet, still uncertain—but still there. then sergio slinks around aria’s legs, tail curling, rubbing against her like he’s guarding her.
jj’s heart is so full. she’s never been to emily’s house before. and yet, somehow—somehow, the second the door opened, it felt like home was inviting her in.
“come on in,” emily says, stepping back, still eyeing the armload of things jj has with her. “and… all your items? what all did you bring, my god, jen?”
jj grins, stepping inside, slipping off her boots by the door as she adjusts the bags on her arms.
“i brought dinner,” she says, lifting the grocery bag slightly. “something aria can help with. some mom blog, i think, said it’s good for stuff like this.”
emily blinks, closing the door. “you read mom blogs today?”
“i did a lot today,” jj replies, moving toward the kitchen, setting her bags down on the counter like this is her home too - like she was coming home to her girls after a grocery run after work. she pulls out her extra set of clothes, setting them aside before reaching into her other bag—and pulling out a stack of flashcards.
emily’s brows raise.
“jen?”
“i researched.” jj shrugs, flipping through the cards, fanning them out slightly. “after we talked earlier, i looked up everything i could. i saw narrating things helps, which you already started doing. but i also saw flashcards can be good. so i, uh…”
she glances up, giving emily a small smile.
“i bought a lot of them.”
emily stares at her. at everything she brought. at all the effort she put in. at the way she just—showed up. for her. for aria. she swallows, her chest tight. jj just shakes her head, moving back to the bag.
“i also bought some fun ones, too, ” she says lightly, pulling out a box of alphabet cards. “she might not care about categories and object names, but i saw some with animals. those looked cool. i have stuff to make our own as well, i printed off pictures of people she knows, stuff like that.”
emily blinks, still processing. still feeling everything. still processing that this woman in front of her has put this much care into aria. into her. into their situation.
jj keeps moving, pulling out the ingredients for dinner.
“we’re making pizza, by the way,” she says, setting the dough down. “aria can help put everything on. thought that might be good.”
emily exhales, pressing a hand to her forehead.
“you really thought of everything, huh?”
jj shrugs, glancing back at her, a little too casual.
“yeah, well.” she pauses, meets emily’s gaze, and her voice is softer this time - a glint in her eye that holds so much love emily couldn’t begin to describe it. “i told you i’d help.”
emily stares at her, but quickly looks down as aria shifts a bit. still clinging to emily’s leg, still watching everything with wide eyes, still taking it all in.
slowly, carefully - she steps forward. emily feels it before she sees it—aria’s little fingers loosening from her pants, her weight shifting, her body moving toward jj in the smallest, surest way. jj notices immediately. she doesn’t reach for her. doesn’t rush it.
just waits, like she did the first day she met her. aria stops right in front of her. still silent. still processing. jj kneels slightly, but still giving aria some space.
“hey, baby girl,” jj murmurs, voice warm, soft. “i missed you. can i have dinner with you and emmy tonight?
aria lifts her little hand. presses it gently, hesitantly, against jj’s knee. a tiny touch, barely anything at all. jj just smiles, one hand covering aria’s gently, lightly.
“yeah? that good with you?”
aria nods, shifting closer - and jj just pulls her in. her hand pressing gently against aria’s head, her eyes closing just for a moment as she takes in the feeling of the toddler in her arms again.
“we’re gonna figure it out, yeah?”
she mumbles, glancing up at emily.