sick day, II.
emily had lied, aria would not be hard to get down, and she knew it. in fact, aria had fallen asleep before emily even got the chance sit in the rocking chair and hum the first note. aria was heavy against her chest, that perfect toddler weight that felt like the world and home all at once. her fever had finally started to break again, thanks to the last dose of tylenol, and her tiny body had surrendered. she hadn’t cried, hadn’t fussed. just tucked her face under emily’s chin, let out one long, weary sigh, and went still. the kind of still that only comes from pure exhaustion, the kind emily knew too well right now.
she still moved to the rocking chair anyway. it was part instinct, part ritual. emily settled into it slowly, not wanting to shift too much weight and stir her. but even more than that, she needed the motion. the soft creak of wood, the slow sway beneath her, the quiet hum of everything still alive but hushed. something about it soothed the anxious thrum in her own chest. something about doing what she’d done hundreds of times before made this moment feel manageable. because she hated silence. not the kind that came with sleep, or aria’s soft breaths against her skin — but the other kind. the kind that filled rooms when things hadn’t been said. the kind that had settled into her house the second jj had arrived, and still hadn’t lifted. something entirely new between them. a feeling she had grown to hate in a matter of twenty-four hours.
so, she rocked. slowly. her palm moved in quiet circles on aria’s back, her fingers tracing patterns against the soft fabric of her onesie, barely touching but somehow saying everything to make aria feel safe. she stayed that way for longer than she should’ve, or needed too. her body ached, her eyes burned, and she knew aria would sleep just as well, maybe even better, in the crib. but letting go felt hard. eventually, though, she stood. aria murmured a sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a protest, but she didn’t wake. emily kissed her temple, breathed her in, and crossed the room.
the crib was warm from the heated pad emily had placed on the mattress and then removed just before she sat down. another ritual. another thing she did to make this easier. another thing that made aria feel like someone was next to her as she settled into a new space. she laid aria down slowly, her fingers brushing through her hair. her pacifier stayed tucked in place, her brow relaxed. still asleep.
“goodnight, baby,” emily whispered. she lingered a moment, then slipped out, leaving the door cracked like always.
she didn’t hear the sound of the front door closing. didn’t catch any footsteps. between the creaking of the rocking chair and her own voice murmuring lullabies into aria’s hair, she’d been completely insulated in that room. so when she stepped onto the third stair. when her eyes flicked up—and she saw her? she froze.
jj was still here. sitting on the couch in the soft lamp light, half-curled into the throw blanket emily kept folded on the arm. her hair, always so carefully curled each morning, was tucked behind her ears, her shoulders slumped like someone who’d been sitting in thought for too long. sergio was nestled beside her like he belonged to her too, not just emily.
for a split second, emily’s throat closed up. because that spot, that image, was so familiar, so intimate, it looked like something out of a dream she’d had before all this tension settled in. like something she might’ve remembered from before it all cracked a little.
that fucking second step. the creak cut through the quiet like glass underfoot, and jj turned her head. emily winced. not visibly, not really. but inside, she flinched. because jj’s face shifted the second she saw her, like a kid caught somewhere she shouldn’t be. but not out of shame. out of sorrow. out of fear that maybe she’d stayed too long, or wasn’t welcome anymore.
she stood up immediately.
“i’m sorry—” her voice cracked a little, her hand raising like she needed to explain. “i couldn’t leave. i just…”
emily blinked at her. the weight of the day hung on her eyelids.
“you just what?”
jj swallowed. she looked down for a second, then back up.
“i just… couldn’t walk away. not with her sick. not with you like this.”
emily’s jaw clenched for a moment, but then she took another step. she hit the bottom stair and paused again. sergio lifted his head and blinked slowly between them before he stretched and leapt from the couch like he knew he was no longer needed.
“she went down okay?” jj asked, quietly, gently.
emily nodded silently, and walked past her, slow but deliberate, heading toward the kitchen. the air changed when she moved through it. jj could feel it shift, heavier again with every step. but she followed, unsure what else to do. she watched emily move to the kettle and flick it on. her hands were steady, but only barely. the slight tremble in her fingers when she grabbed the mug didn’t go unnoticed.
“you should sit,” emily said finally, still not looking at her.
“you should too.”
“i will. after.”
jj leaned against the counter instead, keeping a bit of distance, but still anchored to the moment. she let her eyes roam the space. she’d been here so many times. coffee mornings. after-case wine. dinner with aria on her hip giggling as loud as she could. but tonight? tonight it all felt like walking through a memory that hadn’t decided whether it was still real. if maybe it was something she made more than what it really was.
“i know you’re still mad at me,” jj said. it wasn’t a question. it was fact.
emily exhaled a laugh, but there wasn’t an ounce of humor in it. “wouldn’t you be?”
jj nodded. “yeah. i would.”
silence again. the kettle clicked off, loud in the quiet. emily didn’t move at first. then she poured water, methodically, like her body was on a loop that didn’t need her to think.
jj spoke again. “but i wasn’t trying to doubt you. on the field. that wasn’t—”
“you told hotch i should stay behind.” emily’s voice was sharp, flat. but underneath it: cracked glass.
“no,” jj said quickly, pushing forward. “no, that’s not what i meant. that’s not what i felt, i–”
the mug in emily’s hand trembled slightly, the rim clinking gently against the ceramic counter as she set it down. she crossed her arms, slower this time, her whole body coiled tight like a wire threatening to snap. she didn’t want to have this conversation. she didn’t want to feel. but jj was here, and her presence alone ignited everything that emily had been pushing down.
jj fucking made emily feel. always.
“you said it like i wasn’t capable. in front of everyone.”
her voice cracked, fractured at the edges, sharp but heavy. jj opened her mouth, but nothing came out. she didn’t know how to say it. how to explain something that didn’t live neatly in words.
“i wasn’t—” jj tried again.
“no, you don’t get to do that,” emily cut her off, louder now, as if aria wasn’t asleep upstairs. her eyes burned with tears, but she didn’t let them fall. not yet. “you don’t get to do that thing where you say it wasn’t what you meant, because it doesn’t fucking matter anymore what you meant, jennifer. what you did? what you said? that’s what matters.”
jj flinched. she’d never heard that tone from emily—not like this. not directed at her. and it tore something open.
“you think i don’t know i’m stretched too thin? you think i don’t wake up every morning wondering if i’m doing any of this right?” emily’s voice was rising, tight in her throat. “you think i didn’t notice the way people looked at me when i left early last week, or when i didn’t hear the question hotch asked because i was too busy wondering if aria was going to speak again and feel like she could? how they look at me as if i can’t juggle raising her and my career? like im too distracted?! i know i’m not perfect at this. but you were supposed to be the one person who didn’t make me feel like i was failing.”
jj’s breath caught. “em—”
emily shook her head, cutting her off again. “no. no. you don’t get to reassure me now. not after that. because it wasn’t just about the job, jj. you know that. you know me. you know i know how to do my fucking job, but you sat there and acted like i wasn’t capable of it. you know how hard it is for me to let people in. and i let you in. i let you see it all. the mess. the panic. the nights i don’t sleep. the way i check the baby monitor six times a night because i’m scared something will happen if i don’t.”
tears started to slide down her cheeks, and her voice cracked again, jagged and wet.
“and you made me feel like i wasn’t enough. like i had to choose between being a good mother and being a good agent. like i wasn’t capable of doing both. and i’m trying so fucking hard to be both, but i can’t—jj, i can’t do that if the person i trust the most doesn’t believe in me.”
jj was crying too now. silently. she didn’t even realize when her own tears had started, but they were there, hot on her face as she took in the way emily’s pain poured out in waves. it wasn’t anger anymore. it was hurt. it was heartbreak. it was the kind of devastation that came from loving someone so deeply and being so afraid of losing their faith.
“i do believe in you,” jj whispered. “i do. i never stopped. i—” she shook her head, blinking fast, unable to finish that sentence, her hands shaking at her sides.
she moved. without thinking. without planning. her body just knew.
jj stepped forward, reached up, and cupped emily’s face between both hands. her touch was warm, reverent, and before she could stop herself—before emily could pull away.
she kissed her.
it was desperate. full of everything she hadn’t said. everything she couldn’t say. everything that had built up between them for months. all the stolen looks. the shared silences. the fact that this, this, had been coming since the moment they met.
emily froze. then she broke. not away, but into it.
the mug scooted back further on the counter behind her with a soft scrape as she let jj kiss her, let herself kiss her back, her hands gripping jj’s hips like she needed something to hold onto to stay upright.
it wasn’t just a kiss. it was a rupture. a release.
when jj finally pulled back, just barely, she was already brushing emily’s tears away with her thumbs, her forehead resting against the brunette she was terrified to let go of. emily was breathing hard, chest heaving. her lips were parted like she wanted to speak, to bite something back or let something out, but no words came. she couldn’t move. her brain was caught somewhere between the kiss and the burn in her chest that had nothing to do with anger anymore.
jj didn’t let the silence grow.
she kept her hands gently on emily’s face, her thumbs still brushing away tears. her own eyes were glassy, her voice soft but so full of urgency it felt like a second heartbeat in the room.
“i panicked,” she said, her voice cracking. “but not because i didn’t think you could handle it. not because i doubted you. i—emily, i watched you climb into that suv and all i could think about was aria.”
her voice hitched again, trying to remain calm. to sound sturdy, and not like this had been killing her.
“i thought about her being here without you. i pictured her waking up from a nap and you not coming home. i thought about her crying for you, and you not being able to answer.” jj’s face twisted in pain, and her voice wavered. “and it felt like i couldn’t breathe. like something wrapped around my chest and just—tightened. and i knew how unfair that was, to put that fear on you. that was mine, and i should’ve carried it quietly. but i didn’t. i made it yours too, and i am so sorry.”
emily blinked slowly. she hadn’t expected that. she hadn’t expected the depth of it, how much jj had been carrying, and how much of it had everything to do with aria — and nothing to do with her not being capable of her job.
jj took a shaky breath, her hands still anchoring them both.
“and i was scared for me, too, selfishly,” she whispered. “because i can’t lose you. i can’t. i—” she paused, then rushed forward before the fear could close her throat again. “since the second i met you, em, there’s been something. the first fucking day you were in hotch’s office with a box of your things.”
jj’s voice broke, barely above a whisper, fighting every ounce of emotion in her confession that threatened to drown her.
“and it’s not just that,” she said. her eyes flickered toward the stars. “it’s her. it’s aria.”
she paused, her throat tightening.
“i love her so much it scares me sometimes.”
the words weren’t easy. they came out slow, halting—like jj was still trying to make sense of it even as she said them.
“it’s not the kind of love i had ever prepared for,” she went on. “not something i planned. she’s not mine. not in the way she’s yours, but she is. somewhere along the way, she became. i don’t even know if i'm allowed to feel that way.”
emily didn’t move, didn’t speak. but her eyes did something. they softened in a way that made jj’s chest ache.
“i sit up at night sometimes,” jj confessed, “just thinking about her. wondering if she’s okay. not because i think you’re not doing a good job—god, emily, you are doing everything right. i worry because i care. because she’s this little person who looked up at me one day and smiled like i hung the stars, and i haven’t been the same since.”
jj let out a shaky breath, her voice barely hanging on. “she calls for you in the middle of the night. she reaches for you without even looking. but sometimes… sometimes, when im lucky enough to be here, she reaches for me, too. and every time she does, it wrecks me in the best way. like—how the hell did i get this lucky? to be part of her world. to make her feel safe. to matter. even just a little.”
she wiped at her eyes, a humorless laugh slipping out.
“you know, the first time she fell asleep on me, i didn’t move for an hour and a half. not because i was scared to wake her up—but because i didn’t want to. i didn’t want to miss the feeling of it. of being something soft and safe for her.”
jj’s voice cracked again, but she kept going.
“she looks at me like she knows i’d do anything for her. and the worst part is—she’s right. i would. i’d burn the whole world down if she needed me to.”
she finally looked up at emily again, eyes wet and full of something deeper than just sadness. full of truth. of love.
“i love her, emily. i don’t know the exact moment because it feels like fucking forever. i just know that it will never change.”
emily’s lips parted slightly, as if to speak—but she didn’t. because what could she possibly say to something like that? jj shook her head gently, swallowing down the emotion still rising in her throat.
“she’s yours,” she said softly. “but i’d give everything to be a part of that. to be someone she can always count on. someone you can count on.”
the silence that followed wasn’t tense anymore. it was reverent. sacred. all emily could do was stand, in shock, never realizing the amount of tears still pouring from her eyes. jj was still trembling. her hands had fallen to her sides, but her body felt like it had just come down from a freefall. her chest was tight. her breath came in short, uneven bursts. she wasn’t sure if she was about to cry again, or scream, or maybe both.
but she couldn’t stop. not when everything inside her felt like it had been waiting for this moment. like it had only ever been waiting for this moment.
“i love you,” she said, softly at first. so soft it didn’t feel real.
emily blinked, taking in a small breath, but it wasn’t unnoticeable. jj saw it hit her—slow, like something delicate being unwrapped too fast. so she said it again. louder.
“i fucking love you, emily.”
she laughed, bitter and breathless, pushing her fingers through her hair like it might calm the fire building in her chest. “god, em—i’ve been in love with you for so long and i haven’t known what to do with it. i didn’t want to feel it.”
her voice cracked—fully, finally.
“it scared the shit out of me.”
emily’s eyes were locked to hers now. and jj could feel the walls crumbling behind her ribs.
“i’ve spent every day since you walked into the bau trying to convince myself it was nothing. that it was a friendship. that it was admiration. that it was just something i was confusing with how safe you made me feel. but it’s not. it’s never been just that.”
she stepped forward, her voice rough, her whole body trembling with it.
“you make me feel like i can’t fucking breathe, emily.”
a tear slid down her cheek and she didn’t even try to stop it.
“you look at me across the table, and i lose track of the goddamn conversation. you walk into a room and i swear to god my heart fucking stops for a second. every time. you brush your hand against mine when you pass me something and i’m wrecked for the rest of the day.”
her voice was rising, coming out faster now, like it had to before she lost the nerve.
“and i hate that i’ve made you feel like i didn’t believe in you. that i didn’t trust you. because i do. i always have. you’re the strongest fucking person i know. you’re brilliant. you’re a mother. you’re everything. but you terrify me. not because you’re scary—but because you make me want things.”
she shook her head, voice breaking again.
“you make me want to be honest. to be brave. to fucking believe i deserve this. and i don’t. i don’t know how to accept this part of myself yet. i’m still—” she choked on the words. “i’m still trying. but you make me want to try.”
jj took one more step, and now they were inches apart. she was crying freely now, and her hands were shaking.
“i don’t know what happens after this. i don’t know what you want from me. i don’t know if i’ve already broken it. but i had to say it. because i need you to know—if i never get another chance to say it again—you are the love of my life. you have been for so long.”
silence filled the space between them like a breath that hadn’t been let out.
and then, quieter than before, like the weight had finally settled:
“i love you, emily. i love you so fucking much, it hurts.”
emily didn’t move.
she didn’t blink, didn’t breathe. she couldn’t. jj’s words still rang in the air like smoke after a fire. burning, echoing, searing into her skin. emily stood there, staring back at the woman who had just handed her everything, piece by trembling piece, stripped down to the bone. no defenses. no polished answers.
just heart. just raw, aching love.
emily’s lips parted slightly, her brows pulled together, eyes glassy. her arms had dropped to her sides at some point, like her body had given up the pretense of composure. and god, her chest hurt. it ached. her ribs felt tight. her throat stung.
jj, jennifer fucking jareau, was standing in front of her, trembling and tear-streaked, eyes full of fear and love and desperation. and she meant every word.
“say something,” jj whispered, voice cracking like it physically pained her to speak again. “please.”
emily took a breath. a single, ragged inhale.
“i—” she tried, but her voice caught, so she swallowed hard. “you—you have no idea what you just did to me.”
her voice was hoarse. barely a rasp. but there was no anger in it now. just emotion. just shock. just the weight of years pressing down at once.
“i thought i imagined it,” emily said, almost to herself. “every look. every touch. i thought i was insane. that i was reading into something i had no right to want.”
jj shook her head, silent tears falling. emily stepped forward. slowly. like gravity was pulling her.
“but i wasn’t,” she breathed. “was i?”
jj didn’t answer. she didn’t have to. emily’s hand lifted. tentative. like touching jj now meant something sacred. her fingers brushed her cheek, thumb catching a tear. her other hand came to jj’s waist, slow, grounding.
“jesus christ,” emily whispered. “do you have any idea what it’s done to me? loving you like this? quietly? secretly? watching you smile at me like i was home but never being allowed to believe it?”
jj’s breath hitched. her forehead dropped to emily’s. they stood there, wrapped in the kind of silence that only breaks you open.
“i’m scared too,” emily whispered. “but god, i love you. i’ve loved you in a thousand different ways and i’ve swallowed it every single time.”
jj let out the quietest sob. emily cupped her face, more certain now. more steady.
“i love you,” she repeated, firm, like she was daring the world to take it back. “and i love her so fucking much. and i’ve been terrified that if i admitted any of this, i’d lose it all.”
jj nodded slowly, forehead still pressed to emily’s. “you won’t. i swear to god, you won’t.”
emily pulled back just enough to stare at her for a second longer. her fingers hovered at jj’s jaw, her breath hitching. she didn’t speak. didn’t trust her voice. something about the way jj looked back at her; eyes glassy, lips parted, that same trembling fear and love written all over her—made her heart ache in a way she wasn’t sure it had ever ached before.
she leaned in. it was soft. a ghost of a kiss. nothing like the one jj had pulled her into earlier, desperate and shaking. this was different. this was emily pressing her lips to jj’s like she was scared it wasn’t real. like she’d wake up if she kissed too hard. like she needed to know what it felt like when the world didn’t fall apart for once.
jj melted into it. they both did.
emily felt her whole body tremble with it. this quiet, tender thing blooming between them. her fingers moved gently to jj’s neck, holding her like she’d break apart if she didn’t. and she felt jj’s hands do the same, curling at her waist, grounding.
the kiss was slow. careful. but there was nothing careful about the way it made emily feel. jj’s breath was warm against her lips when they parted just an inch, not quite pulling away. foreheads touching. emily couldn’t stop staring. couldn’t stop breathing her in.
“i don’t want you to leave tonight.” emily’s voice broke a little.
jj blinked her eyes open again. “what?”
emily swallowed. “not to the guest room. not away from me. i want you to stay. with me.”
jj didn’t move. not at first. just looked at her, like she was trying to understand if emily really meant it, if she really understood what she was saying.
“i’m not asking for anything more,” emily whispered. “just tonight. i want you next to me, i just want to feel you laying next to me as something more.”
jj nodded. it was barely perceptible, but it was every bit of confirmation.
“okay,” jj said softly.
emily let out the smallest breath of relief and leaned forward again, pressing her lips to jj’s temple, slow and lingering. for the first time in days, the weight on her chest lifted.
they didn’t speak in the moment. emily just took jj’s hand, and led her up the stairs, her thumb gently rubbing in small circles against the back of jj’s hand. grounding herself. grounding them both.
home wasn’t some concept. not anymore.