Hope for the Hopeless [Jemily]

16 oz. Of Bold Flavor

June 5, 2007
— JJ's POV
"I don't understand you. Either of you." Penelope exasperated to me as we had our daily rendezvous of gossip in her lair. She was telling me how frustrating it apparently is to watch Emily and I "waste a relationship."

"Well, I'm sorry you don't understand I guess."

"No, don't you give me that! She likes you, you like her. Why you're both complicating this is beyond me!"

"Because it is complicated! And besides... I don't even know anymore."

"Don't know what?"

"I mean... She's the one who said we should 'see where it goes.' And that we're 'unsure of where one another stands.' That doesn't sound very preemptive to me, does it?"

Garcia sighed, "She's probably just as clueless as you are. Neither of you want to approach the subject and you're wasting valuable time!"

"No we're not! We still hang out. We still talk and see each other outside of work. Maybe that's... enough."

"Is it? For you, at least?"

I put my head down, "I don't know. Maybe."

"So you're giving up?"

I looked up at her and gushed, "I wanna move on with my life, Penelope! If sitting around waiting for Emily to make a move is all I'm riding on... I don't wanna do that anymore. I wanna try something else." My pager beeped and I looked down at it before sighing, "That's my consult. We're probably gonna have a case." I slid off her desk and walked outside before she could lecture me anymore. Emily's been on the team for a month which means she's had a month to tell me how she feels. I guess that means the same for me but I don't know how I feel anymore. After grabbing the completed case file from my consult I went to Hotch's office and announced that I had a case for us. He rallied everyone in the roundtable room and I started to present, "We've got a serial killer in New Orleans who killed at least 3 men pre-Katrina. Until now, the New Orleans police department believed that the serial killer died in the storm."

Derek asked, "What's happened to tell them otherwise?"

"A fourth body was found in the French Quarter last night. Same M.O. Another male. Throat slashed, eviscerated."

Emily raised her brows, "A year and a half? That's a long cooling-off period. Are we sure this is the same unsub?"

Hotch asked me, "Does Lamontagne have any leads?"

"He died in Katrina. His son is actually leading the case now."

Rossi whistled, "That can't be easy."

Hotch added, "Well, we need to pour over the evidence from the first 3 murders and determine the pattern."

"Katrina washed everything away. The 3 victims we know of, their autopsy reports, witness statements, DNA test results."

Emily sighed, "So, basically, all we have to go on is the latest victim?"

Hotch nodded, "Yeah. Until he kills again."

A few hours later
We arrived in New Orleans not long ago and are just now arriving on the scene. Rossi, Emily, Morgan, and I crossed the yellow tape and approached the detective on the case. He looked back at us and nodded, "You must be BAU. Bill Lamontagne."

He reached out to shake my hand and I took it while smiling, "Hi. Jennifer Jareau. We spoke on the phone."

He looked me up and down and smirked, "Well, okay then." I furrowed my brows at him, causing him to clarify, "I pictured you different." Bold. Really bold. Kinda liked it.

I paused for a second and then motioned toward the other three. "Uh, these are agents Rossi, Prentiss, and Morgan. This is detective William Lamontagne Jr." I smiled at him again before glancing at Emily, who was flushed red and clenching her jaw. Do I spy a hint of jealousy? Detective Lamontagne discussed some details of the case, mostly with Rossi, before letting us move onto the next piece of our puzzle. The team rode back to the station in an SUV but I actually hitched a ride with Will. Oh, he told me to call him Will. We talked for a while as Morgan and Emily examined the scene, and he's kinda really actually very sweet. When the team concluded that our unsub was doing their hunting at the local bar scene, we split up in pairs to some bars around the French Quarter tonight to eye any suspicious criminal activity. Will asked me to accompany him and I said yes.

He sat next to me in his barstool and confided, "It's not right. The French Quarter's one of the only parts of the city that dodged Katrina. Now there's a serial killer loose."

I comforted, "It's a small area, And we're narrowing down the profile. We'll find him." A bartender slid over a pint of beer, probing me to ask, "You always drink while you're still on the clock?"

He chuckled, "This is New Orleans, honey. It's a cultural thing. Where are you from?"

"Pennsylvania."

"I take it the folks are a little rigid about the rules up that way." I shrugged as if to say yep. "Well, if it makes you feel better... We'll play it Pennsylvania style tonight." He slid his beer away with a smile, turning all his attention back to the case. "I just hate that this guy has a leg up on us, you know?"

"I promise as soon as my team knows anything, we'll hear. Okay?"

He motioned down to my hand and asked, "Why aren't you married?" So bold.

Taken off guard, I blushed and laughed nervously, "Uh, that involves this case how?"

"It doesn't. I'm just flirtin.'" So unbelievably bold. This is the vibe Emily lacks. He shook his head and said, "It's unprofessional. You don't have to answer that."

A woman approached us and handed Will a glass of liquor, "Excuse me. Compliments of the woman in the blue top." A woman from down the bar waved at him flirtatiously.

I scoffed. "Wow. That was... bold."

"Well she might have thought we were just working."

"We are?"

He smirked at me, "Are you jealous?"

I stammered, "What? N-No. I just... I... I'm surprised, that's all."

"And you're a lousy liar, too." He laughed, looking deep into my eyes and making me a little flustered. "You haven't had much practice, huh?"

I playfully hit his shoulder, "It's a culture thing, you see," and then slid him his glass, "There you go." We wrapped up our night at the bar, learning that our unsub was likely a woman. There was little to do for the rest of the night so I decided to hop in an SUV and drive to the hotel. I got my key at the front desk and rode the elevator up to floor 4, scanning the hallway number plates for my room. I unlocked the door and saw Emily inside. "Oh uh... Am I in the wrong room?"

"Nope. We're sharing."

A/N- this chapter contains dialogue from Season 2 Episode 18- "Jones"