criminal minds | one-shots ✓

19. may thirteenth

may thirteenth.

there are over a trillion words in the english dictionary, each with their own separate definitions and antonyms and synonyms and places in thesaurus' - and jj can't think of a single one to describe the way she feels.

heartbroken.

shattered.

empty.

every year, jj dreams of blood stained sheets and hands unbuttoning her shirt with painful threats and gunshots, and every year she wakes up gasping and covered in sweat, trembling.

and it happens, over and over and over again.

may thirteenth.

she pulls the blankets hopelessly over her shoulders, squeezing her eyes shut to block out the too bright light coming from her open window and pushes her hands to her ears to make everything go quiet, but it doesn't work, it's not working.

she rocks back and forth, trying to get some kind of comfort, trying to shut out the memories and the lights and the noises, but it's all too much, and she can't.

may thirteenth.

she has to leave, she has to - she can't do anything like this, she's completely helpless -

she stumbles out of her bed, hyperaware of everything, and cringing at the way her sheets tangle around her, and she trips over her feet as she runs to the bathroom.

she slides down onto the floor, slamming the door shut, and leaning against the wall, putting her head in her knees, trying to remember how to breathe, how to inhale, exhale, in, out, in, out -

there's a knock at her door that makes her freeze, before she hears emily's voice on the other side.

"jay? it's me, emily. can i come in?"

jj can't get up, but she's terrified emily will leave, and she still can't breathe, and god, what is wrong with her -

"i'm coming in, okay?" she calls. the door opens, and emily stands there, tangled hair and mismatched pyjamas and one sock and all, and jj thinks she's never been so glad to see her.

"oh, baby," she whispers, her eyes taking in jj and already assessing the situation.

jj lets out a sob, curling back in as she digs her fingernails into the skin of her arm.

may thirteenth, she thinks, and it's enough to make her fall apart all over again.

emily doesn't say anything, and she doesn't try to hold her or touch her, which jj is infinitely grateful for, just sits there and let's jj cry as she breathes hard and falls apart over and over again.

they sit on the bathroom floor for what feels like forever and more, until jj can get enough air in her lungs that she doesn't feel tears accompany it.

emily waits a few more moments, making sure she's really ready, or as ready as she can be, before she speaks again.

"do you want to talk?" is the first thing she asks.

jj feels an insurmountable amount of love for this woman in front of her, one who is willing to put up with her breakdowns and who's seen her at worst, and she still stuck around. this woman who knows her so well, knows her bad days, that the first thing she does is set needed boundaries.

she shakes her head no, but uses her hand to say, but i can sign.

emily nods, and offers a smile. "that's good," she says, "that's really good. but, if you need to stop, do. okay?"

jj nods again, sniffling and tapping her fingers against her pants.

"what happened?" she asks, softly, and jj pauses.

so much and she doesn't know where to start. she feels her eyes blur again and her throat close as she tries to put it into words in her head.

may thirteenth.

she exhales shakily, and lets out a sob, signing, i'm not like you, and emily pulls away, slightly, eyebrows pulled together.

"what?"

i'm not like you, she repeats, i'm not - i can't compartmentalize and put things in a box and keep them hidden away forever. every year, i'm reminded that a piece of me will always be missing, and i don't know how to make it go away. i can't make it go away. i'm not like you. i'm -

sorry, she tries to sign, but emily puts her hands up.

"don't." she whispers. "don't apologize, it's okay, baby. it's okay. we all have bad days, and the way you're feeling right now is okay. more than okay." her eyes soften, "can i touch you?"

jj hesitates, her fingers clenching and unclenching at her side, before she finally nods.

yes, she signs, but only my shoulders up.

emily smiles and rests her hand gently on her cheeks and guides her to look at her.

thank you, she signs, there's more, but thank you.

emily smiles a little, and tilts her head to the side, "how about i put on the breakfast club and you can tell me while we eat ice cream on the couch?"

jj laughs, a little, wiping at her eyes, before she nods. but no movie, she signs, i don't think i can handle that right now.

"that's okay." emily says, "no movie." she smiles, and adds, softly, "i love you," and jj smiles back, nodding.

she doesn't say it back, but she hopes emily knows.