What Happens Next

XX. Vomit

"Hello Ms. Jareau. We would like for you to come in as soon as possible, we have some important information to share with you and your mother," the soft voice of the woman on the phone flooded into JJ's ears.

Her heart stopped. Immediately, she could feel the weight of impending bad news pounding in her chest, suffocating her from the inside. She stood, holding her phone to her ear, the other arm crossed over her chest, unmoving, unspeaking.

"Ms. Jareau? Are you there?" the woman asked breaking her out of her trance.

"Yeah. Yeah, okay. I'm off work at two."

"Alright, ma'am. Please come in as soon as you can."

JJ thanked the woman and ended the call, returning to the break room were her friends we standing, chatting about their days. She ducked, avoiding eye contact with the other officers, heading straight for the coffee maker in the corner.

"Jareau!" her friend, Christy, called out to her from the other side of the room, "what's up?"

JJ turned around, mug already in hand. She held it up to the woman, whom she noticed had styled her recently-highlighted short hair in a way that showed off she had gotten it colored.

"Coffee," she uttered, making it obvious she was not in the mood to chat, although she politely added "I like the new color."

Christy smiled, running her hands through her gelled-up style to ensure it was still standing up perfectly. She pushed herself up from the chair she was seated in, sauntering over to her friend, causing JJ to sigh. She turned around, shoving her mug under the spout that would soon release hot coffee as her ticket to leave the room.

"Hey, you okay?" Christy asked, noticing JJ's aversion to conversation.

The blonde nodded, and forced a smile before stating "yeah, rough day, but I'm good."

Christy nodded, accepting her answer, and patted her friend on the shoulder as she walked past her in an attempt to respect her privacy. JJ sighed in relief, pulling her mug from the machine and dumping in their cheap non-dairy creamer that she was growing to hate.

At the hospital, she repeated the same actions. After pressing out the last of the coffee from the black canister at the complementary coffee table, she poured in the same powdered creamer she despised, and she walked into the room she had come to know as her mother's.

"Did they tell you?" Sandy greeted, gruffly.

"Not yet," JJ responded, already despondent.

"I'm dying. Pancreatic cancer. Stage four."

JJ's jaw dropped in horror. Her throat felt dry, and tight. She wanted to cry, but no tears would come.

"Oh don't act so surprised. I've been dying a long time, Jennifer. It'll be okay."

JJ remained silent, staring at her decrepit mother. She followed the direction of the tubes, noticing two new IV bags attached to her arm.

"What are those for?" She asked.

"Antibiotic, painkiller, water, and some other drug that's supposed to help the dizziness."

A nurse entered the room to find JJ standing at the foot of her mother's bed. He observed the navy blue police uniform and the sparkling gold badge upon her chest. He stopped in his tracks.

"Hello?" he asked, his voice timid, and confused.

"Ag- Officer Jareau," JJ began, stepping forward with an outstretched hand, she shook off the slip, wishing she could still call herself an agent, "I'm her daughter."