Jennifer Jareau was sure she would never see the woman at the bar again. Having poured her heart out to her - and thrown up in the back of her car - she was uneasy even thinking about the concept of seeing the woman again. However, luck isn't on JJ'...
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Over a decade ago, Anna had spent much of her time in the FBI headquarters in Quantico. Tucked away in a cramped corner office - with no windows and dodgy air conditioning - she would spend days devouring coffee and stale donuts as she worked through the piles of requests from agents upstairs. She didn't like to think of that desk, shackled to the weight of her gender and stuck in a position she was over qualified for. Though, as she walked out of the elevator, it was the thing most prevalent in her mind.
Time had passed slowly in that building as she hid behind candied smiles and sugary candor, losing parts of herself every time she let him degrade her. Every day - forcing a grin as his words became less and less cryptic and his hands lingered longer and longer - she would feel the decay rising from the pit in her stomach. It has almost killed her as she attacked the native land he had claimed as his own, never once taking notice of the way she shook him off. Yet, no one has seen it past her pearly smile and professional exterior. Her decay hasn't reached the surface, and she doubted it ever would have been believed if it had.
Part of Anna had died during her previous year at Quantico, leaving her to build herself back up from the rubble he left in his wake. Some of her youthful naivety has been lost to his entitlement, leaving her with an cold emptiness where the fire of her trust in justice has been. The system wasn't fair and the men fighting the good fight often allowed themselves to be overcome by their own animalistic desires, though so often it was their word which was believed. Staring that mirror, Anna had learnt to hate what that had made her. The way she had changed her clothes, dulled her smile and remove any individuality - a last-ditch effort at blending into the crowed.
Despite the city she had built from the ruins of his invasion, she began to shrink herself as eyes fixed on her. Over her decade away, she had earned the respect of everyone in the offices - separating herself from her past experiences - but for a split second she was back to the intern who allowed him to get away with it all. Even when she left, she kept her experience to herself; she was far too aware of the consequences women like her faced when they spoke out. The media would never have been kind, and she would have never recovered from the dirty they would undoubtedly throw at her.
For a moment, she stared at the empty desks and wondered how many were owned by women. There was part of her that wondered whether they had gone through anything like she had, or been declined the requests to progress in the ranks. She hated the way her thoughts focused on the way they probably had to fight to prove themselves worthy of leaving their desk work behind, but she was yet to see the Bureau work on its equality beyond the legal requirements. However, she hoped that the small changes would be worthwhile in the future.
Behind her - ensuring not to startle the woman - Aaron cleared his throat, "Are you okay?"
"Fine," she forced a smile onto her face, shuddering at how quickly she had covered her tracks, "how long do we have before your team arrive?"
