A/N: Some day I'll finish a story that's not about this arc, but today isn't that day. Hope you enjoy this in the meantime!

Anyone who had a hard time with the PTSD themes in the episode itself should note that they show up here too, though they're fairly mild.

The notification on JJ's phone was taunting her.

She wasn't sure when it arrived; it had been there waiting when she slipped out of bed in the middle of the night to avoid rousing Will with her restless tossing. JJ knew it had been optimistic to hope that she'd get any real sleep. There was no way she'd be able to cope with her dreams tonight; not after staring Tivon Askari in the face again, reading through a file of his darkest secrets while he mercilessly recited all of hers.

She'd seen the little square 'W' before padding toward Henry's room, where her instincts said to go whenever she needed reassurance. And she'd stuck her head through the door—long enough to see her boy out like a light, grown-up bangs flopped across his baby face. She'd stopped herself from going in, though; the kid slept like a log, but he had an uncanny sense for when he was being watched. She didn't want Henry to wake up to her like this.

Instead, JJ found herself curled up in the living room, staring at her phone in an indecisive daze. It wasn't just a notification, she knew, it was an invitation—a quiet I'm here that some part of her desperately wanted to take advantage of. She and Emily still played scrabble now and then—they'd migrated to Words With Friends once anonymity stopped being an issue—but it had been a while. This resumption of their game, so soon after Spence had called Emily with a cryptic request that she'd have seen right through… Well, it didn't take a profiler to work out what Emily was doing. Reid hadn't told her anything—JJ trusted that—but he didn't have to. Emily must be worried.

So part of JJ wanted to call. The rest of JJ really hadn't planned to talk with anyone; not while she was still so wrung out from her conversations with Reid. It felt like progress, opening up to him. But JJ knew she was unravelling, seemingly out of nowhere and faster than she could handle. When she closed her eyes, Tivon's sneering face stared back at her. One step forward wasn't enough right now.

The echo of a gravelly taunt in her ear—Oh, Jennifer; there's so much more I'm going to take—finally broke her resolve. She dialled Emily's number, learning how unforgiving touchscreens were toward trembling fingers. But still, JJ hesitated to hit send.

She could deal with her feelings (can you? her mind nagged), but she knew there was no avoiding that her behaviour had to change. The little things hadn't seemed important, even as they piled up—the worst case scenario if she lashed out at the gym was a pissed off trainer, and she could explain away a sleepless night with one of so many perfectly reasonable excuses. But now it had spilled over into her work in the field, and that was something she wouldn't accept. That was handing Askari a loaded gun and standing still as he aimed it. JJ didn't notice that she'd sent the call until a familiar voice picked up on the other end.

"JJ, hi," Emily said. There were a dozen anxious questions behind the greeting.

"Hi," JJ answered. It was timid; quavering—JJ wanted to feel ashamed by how weak it sounded, but she couldn't muster the energy. Instead, she closed her eyes and let herself sink into the relief that washed over her upon hearing Emily's voice.

Emily hated the silence that followed, but she let it linger. Yesterday had been the first time she'd heard Askari's name in months—not since JJ had let the topic fade from their conversations a few short weeks after her abduction—and all Reid had said was that he thought the file might help. Emily was so grateful that Reid was looking out for JJ; that he was keeping her confidence, no matter how much Emily wished she could pry. But it meant that she had no idea where JJ's head was, and no idea how to offer the right support. Emily ignored all the instincts telling her to jump in with words of comfort and instead tried to let JJ steer the conversation.

Emily glanced at the clock, making a fist as she caught herself absently picking at her thumbnail. "4am in DC," she observed, working to keep her voice neutral. "Are you awake early or up late?"

"Um," JJ murmured, dragging herself back to the moment. She'd been so caught up in deciding to make the call itself that she hadn't thought ahead to the conversation that would follow. "I slept, I think." There were gaps in her night, where time skipped forward and she presumed she had drifted to sleep. None of it had been restful. "I didn't wake you, did I?"

"No, I'm up," Emily promised. "I'm glad you called. I've got a whole lot of nothing planned for today." She opted to keep up a stream of idle chatter—maybe that was all JJ needed for now, and if not, maybe it would give her time to find the right words. "I even managed to read a bit before Serg made himself comfortable on my book. So now I'm just lazing around, enjoying my pot of overpriced coffee."

JJ breathed out a sound that was reassuringly close to a laugh. "I don't know why you bother with nice coffee if you're just gonna ruin it with that revolting sweetener."

"Oh, ha ha," Emily drawled, but a burst of affection and relief at the jab warmed her voice and ruined any attempt to sound sarcastic. "I won't apologize for my vices."

JJ's scoff was her only answer, but Emily imagined she could see the friendly eye-roll that so often accompanied it. It was moments like this that made her most homesick for her life in DC. She took advantage of the lightened mood to nudge things forward before their comfortable silence could drag. "How are you, Jayje?"

JJ had been bracing herself for it, but she wasn't prepared for the question. She wasn't prepared for Emily's gentle tone, and despite her resolve to move forward, she wasn't quite prepared to answer honestly. She felt her lower lip graze her upper teeth, articulators drawing on a kind of muscle memory that she'd built up over months of determinedly repeating the word 'fine.' But as much as JJ wanted to allow herself the comfort of that lie one more time, she couldn't.

"I don't know," JJ confessed. "I need help, I think." She hated that she couldn't keep her voice steady.

Emily closed her eyes against a sting of sympathetic tears and wished that she wasn't so far away. "That's really good, honey. Asking for help, I mean; that's hard. What can I do?"

JJ answered with a defeated laugh. "I wish I had a fucking clue, Em. I don't know what's wrong with me. I feel like I'm losing my mind."

A swearing JJ was a frustrated JJ—Emily had been on the receiving end enough times to know that—though she wasn't sure if her friend was frustrated by the situation itself or her inability to get out of it. "That's okay. That feeling's normal," was the best that Emily could think of to offer.

JJ sighed, curling forward to press her aching eyes against her knees. She was torn between an angry of course I know it's normal and a more frantic how can this be normal?. "Right," she muttered. "I hear I'm fit for a textbook."

"Maybe," Emily conceded. Her voice was kind, and it made JJ wish she could erase the bitter tinge from her own words. "I know that doesn't make it less awful to experience, Jayje. And it doesn't mean you're supposed to know what you're feeling; no book's going to tell you that. It just means you're not alone."

JJ sucked in a breath, trying to fight the growing tightness in her chest. It was the same surge of panic and overwhelmed gratitude that she'd felt when Reid had first confronted her. She didn't know what to do with their compassion. It made her feel loved, but it made her feel helpless, too.

All she got for her deep breaths was a twinge in her long-ago healed ribs. That still happened from time to time, and at this point JJ couldn't tell if it was physical pain or just in her head. Either way, it made her heart pound in recollected fear. If nothing else, JJ couldn't accept this—the way her own body betrayed her in fear of a dead man. She knew it wasn't rational, and hated that that didn't matter. How many times had she reassured Henry against monsters in the dark that couldn't possibly be there?

"How do I get past this?" she begged.

"Right now, just talk to me. We'll figure the rest out later," Emily said, and JJ felt the world around her shrink in the most reassuring way. Focus on this next thing; ignore how overwhelming everything else feels.

"Talk to you," JJ echoed. She could do that. "Okay. Yeah."

"That's not so bad, right?"

JJ grinned and sat up straighter, suddenly feeling more in control than she probably should. Emily had that effect on her sometimes. "I'm sure I'll manage."

"Well good," Emily chuckled. "Can I ask you a question, Jayje?"

"Uh huh." That seemed easier to JJ than figuring out where she should start.

"How long have you felt like this?"

It should have been an easy question, but JJ's mind drew a blank. She blinked in surprise. "I guess I didn't notice it building until it all hit me at once. The last few weeks, maybe." JJ was used to being more in touch with herself than this.

"And before that?" Emily prodded.

"I was okay!" JJ insisted. "At least I thought so. Seriously Em, last year, right after… we had this string of cases full of things that were practically engineered to get to me. Victims being drowned, restrained, assaulted…" Parents losing their kids, her brain supplied, but that was one thing she couldn't bring herself to share again so soon. "It was kind of ridiculous. But none of it was that big a deal. It's not like I was pretending—I just felt okay."

And that made it so much more frustrating, Emily knew. She remembered how awful and disorienting it was to feel the ground crumbling beneath you when you'd been sure it was solid. "What's different now?"

JJ's answer was an exasperated breath—frustrated shorthand for hell if I know. "Spence said something about anniversaries and seasonal changes—smells and all that. I don't know; that makes as much sense as anything."

"It does," Emily agreed. "Things get harder to ignore when their memories are always in the back of your mind."

JJ scrubbed a hand across her eyes, fighting off a creeping fatigue. "It's not just memories," she said. It was glimpses of the future—everything she still stood to lose, and everything that she now realized was already slipping away. I'll take your sleep; your smile; your safety, he'd taunted. Yourself. That was turning into more than an idle threat, and Henry deserved a mom who did her best to come home safe to him. "I'm being reckless," JJ admitted.

"Well, I might know a thing or two about recklessness," Emily replied. Her voice was light—self-deprecating and jokey—but to JJ the undertones were clear: I understand. You won't hear any judgment from me. JJ nearly cried in relief.

"No," JJ argued. "I mean yeah, you are," she corrected at Emily's incredulous snicker. "Not like this, though. Em, you're this self-sacrificing kind of reckless. You run around baiting terrorists or pretending you're a fucking bomb squad. I hate that you do that, by the way—it's fucking terrifying." There was a bite to her voice that she couldn't control; one that hid the debt of gratitude she'd never be able to repay. It was a strange tension that JJ had always found hard to reconcile: knowing that she owed her family and happiness to Emily's stubborn heroics while at the same time wishing desperately that her friend had a stronger self-preservation instinct. Sometimes it still made her heart stop to recall how close she'd come to losing Will and Emily in the same awful moment.

JJ sighed, swallowing back the frustration that lately had made a permanent home in her chest, where it bubbled up in misplaced bursts. Occasionally with a few too many f-bombs. "Sorry. That wasn't fair. I don't know why I brought that up." Or maybe she did—Emily's wasn't the only behaviour that scared her.

"No need to be sorry. What's reckless like for you, Jayje?"

JJ grimaced. "Today I fired my gun in a gas-filled room because I was pretty sure it wouldn't go up in flames. I'm taking stupid risks for no reason." The answer left a sour taste in her mouth. She'd had other options: Talk the perp down; she'd always been good at that. Wait for backup; Morgan had been right behind her, as always. There'd been a single father propped up helplessly in the corner, for god's sake; it's not like he'd agreed to her game of chance. "There's nothing noble about my behaviour, Emily; I'm just angry."

Emily hated how familiar this twinge of fear had become—it hit each time she heard how close someone she loved had come to being hurt or worse. It was usually phone calls that started with We're okay, but… But the BAU is being targeted by a relentless copycat killer. But Reid got shot by a renegade cop. But JJ is hurting and angry and it's overtaking her best judgment in the field.

"Hey, you know that textbook of Reid's?" Emily asked. She lay back and took a deep breath to settle her nerves, raising her knees to avoid disturbing the cat who'd staked out territory at the end of the couch.

JJ huffed a laugh. "You mean his brain?"

"Sure," Emily grinned, grateful for the trust implicit in JJ going with her non-sequitur. "From what I remember, it talks about two kinds of anger: constructive and destructive. I'm pretty prone to the latter, myself." It landed as the joke she'd intended, but it also served as a reminder: there's no shame in this, JJ. "Part of me is so glad to hear you getting angry, honey. It means you know that what happened to you was unfair. I think that's important."

"Okay, so mission accomplished on that one," JJ muttered.

Emily chose to ignore the skepticism in JJ's voice. Maybe the idea would resonate with her later. "I'm worried about the destructive side, though. Anger can be a good thing; we just need to make sure it can't hurt you."

"Yeah," JJ acknowledged. She knew that, but getting to 'how' seemed harder. Luckily Emily took the reins again.

"Who are you angry at?"

That answer came easily. "Askari. Hastings."

"Well they deserve it," Emily offered. It wasn't exactly revelatory, but something about the affirmation loosened JJ's tongue.

"I'm afraid I'm letting them win."

So you're fighting back against whatever's in reach, Emily mused. She knew the instinct. "Tell me how they're winning."

JJ answered with a helpless sigh. "I used to know who I was, Em. Where I fit; what I was good at. I was happy." The past tense made Emily's eyes sting. "But then I got dragged into their world and everything went to hell. And I don't know why I was even there—what exactly qualified me to hunt out information about fucking Bin Laden? To be responsible for Nadia? Her daughter?" JJ was quickly building up a head of frustrated steam, and it made her words come faster. "I couldn't protect them. Couldn't even see the betrayal that was right in front of me. Askari's dead and I still can't stop him from turning me into this person I don't recognize—who takes stupid risks and can't be happy about all the good things around me. I don't even like that person."

Emily swallowed around the knot in her throat and voiced the thread she'd seen running through JJ's anxieties. "You feel like you aren't in control."

JJ felt her eyes flood with tears at how fully the observation resonated. "I hate it," she whispered.

"Accepting that things have changed feels a lot like losing, doesn't it?" JJ couldn't reply—instead, she closed her eyes and pulled at the fraying bandage that wrapped her knuckles—but Emily seemed to hear the answer in her silence. "You can't wish yourself back in time, Jayje. The best thing you can do for yourself is decide to move forward. You're in charge of what that means."

"Is that why you left? To move forward; make a clean break?" JJ asked. She hoped it didn't sound accusatory. JJ had always understood Emily's decision; really, she had. She'd known—intellectually, empathetically—how much her friend had struggled to readjust after Doyle. But now that she was feeling what Emily might have felt, it was all too overwhelming. JJ wished she could reach back to the Emily of three years ago and remove this burden from her heart.

"Kind of," Emily sighed. She felt a rustling at her feet as the sound roused Sergio from his nap. "I didn't want a clean break; not from you guys. I just needed distance to rebuild myself." Emily was loath to make the conversation about herself, but she heard JJ's breath being strangled by tears—distressed tears, not cathartic ones—and she couldn't deny her friend the lifeline of having something outside herself to focus on. Plus, as much as Emily knew her own solutions wouldn't be JJ's, it might help to hear a reminder that you can hit rock bottom and still come out okay.

She winced at Sergio's sudden decision to launch his way up her torso, full of concerned determination and a feline knack for finding the most sensitive places to step, but he redeemed himself quickly with a nudge of his nose against her forehead—his favourite gesture of affection, and one that made her heart melt every time. The worried crease in Emily's forehead softened. She rewarded Sergio with a scritch under the chin before continuing her train of thought.

"I was different after what happened, and so were my relationships with all of you. Half the time I couldn't really pinpoint the changes, but they were there. I guess that was inevitable." A distant part of Emily's mind marvelled at how easily she was able to talk about realities that had devastated her not so long ago. Part of that was time and her efforts at self-care; part was that there's very little she wouldn't face for the sake of someone she loved. "The thing I found hardest was that everything else seemed so familiar—the city, the BAU—and that disconnect was really unsettling. I felt like I couldn't fit in my old life, and I couldn't shake the guilt reminding me why that was."

"M'sorry," JJ offered through her tears. She'd wanted so badly to help Emily feel at home again.

"Shhh; come on," Emily chided. "You know how much you did for me, Jay. It wasn't a feeling that came from any of you."

"It wasn't your fault," JJ insisted, and Emily smiled sadly at hearing more conviction in that statement than JJ had shown so far. It was how their friendship worked: finding and filling the vulnerable gaps in each other's armour, even when that meant neglecting their own. In Paris, there'd been days at a time that she'd been too preoccupied with worry about JJ and her assignment to spare a thought for her own predicament. It wasn't totally selfless—it helps to focus on what you're sure of when everything around you seems uncertain, and there's nothing more certain than the fact that the people you care about deserve to be happy.

"I know that now," Emily agreed. "Sometimes the mind plays tricks on you, hmm?"

She'd meant for the question to be rhetorical, but JJ's grateful sigh confirmed that she'd heard the sentiments behind it. This isn't your fault, either. You can take control, no matter how chaotic things feel. You'll be okay in time, just like I was.

"Em…" JJ managed. The sound quivered uncontrollably.

"Take deep breaths, honey. I'm right here."

JJ latched onto the permission to grieve, though by that point she couldn't have stopped her tears if she'd tried. It was a relief to have a silent presence on the other end of the phone—someone just there, just listening—who didn't care that she was a mess and that she didn't really understand her own mind. She lost track of how much time passed before her tears tapered off into sniffles, but Emily seemed to hear the precise moment when her mind settled. Her voice was warm in JJ's ear.

"Now that I've bummed you out, I can give you the happy-ending part of my story if you want."

"Tell me," JJ whispered. She swore she could feel Emily's relieved smile through the phone, ridiculous as that was.

"You know, part of me felt crazy for moving here when you guys were what kept me grounded and happy. I think Pen thought I was, too," Emily mused. JJ's watery laugh confirmed that suspicion. "For a long time I thought that getting my old life back was what I wanted. But that wasn't quite right—what I wanted was a life with all of you in it. Everything else seemed a lot clearer once I figured out what was really important to me. It meant I could protect those things and let the rest of the old me go." It had felt like a betrayal at first, until she came around to the fact that the old Emily was already gone. "I was afraid that I would let my guilt poison our relationships if I stayed. So I left. That gave me the space to deal and the motivation to do it."

"You seemed happier there," JJ agreed. Even being at Interpol, where it had all begun for Emily. Even without the team in her daily life. JJ wanted that sense of peace for herself.

"It's something to try, JJ. Deconstruct your old life; see which pieces fit. Then rebuild in a way that makes sense now. You're in control of who you become. Askari and Hastings—they can't touch that."

It made sense, JJ decided. Maybe she was holding onto things from her past just so she could say that no one had taken them from her. Maybe some of those things didn't matter enough to warrant the energy. And she knew it could work—she'd watched Emily heal; watched her rebuild into a better version of herself. A stray thought crossed JJ's mind.

"You reincarnate." It elicited a curious hmm? from her friend. "Yeah," JJ drawled, her lips pulling into a satisfied grin. "You riiiise from the ashes, getting stronger every time…"

Emily caught on, and she rolled her eyes fondly. "If you say so, crazy."

"Just did," JJ confirmed around an unexpected yawn. Maybe it was the new contentment that had settled around her, but it suddenly felt every bit like the obscene hour the clock said it was. "I should probably go soon, Em. I'm starting to fade."

"Okay. Will's there?" Emily asked. JJ smiled at the protective streak in Emily's voice, full of barely-concealed reluctance to leave her on her own.

"Sleeping," JJ confirmed.

"Good. Go join him; get some rest," Emily advised. Her voice brightened. "And then hurry up and play your turn, all right? I'm sitting on a triple-word bingo here."

JJ huffed in exasperation. "Seriously? Never play scrabble with a freaking polyglot. It's an unfair advantage." The explanation didn't make a ton of sense, but JJ always held to it when she found herself losing.

"Ah, pauvre petite," Emily cooed. JJ didn't hear a lot of sympathy in her voice. "You'll live."

To JJ's ears, it didn't sound like the gibe that it was; it sounded like a reminder, and her chest fluttered in response. "I know," she smiled.

"Hey," Emily soothed. She must have heard the shift in JJ's tone; her own voice was back to being impossibly earnest. "You'll thrive, JJ. You are stronger than your fears. Trust me, okay?"

"I do," JJ assured her. That much was always true. JJ found herself choking on words of gratitude; she had no idea how to express the weight of them, but she knew she had to try. "Emily, I…"

"You need to sleep, Jayje," Emily interrupted when JJ's words trailed off. "We'll talk soon, right?"

"Yeah. Em, thank you," JJ finally managed.

"Keep safe," Emily implored. JJ echoed the sentiment and gave her goodbyes before finally ending the call.

It felt too quiet now that she was alone, sitting in her living room with the world asleep around her. JJ pulled up their scrabble game as a way to ease herself from her conversation with Emily, playing a word and blocking access to the only available triple-word square in the process. She sent a wink through the chat in pseudo-apology, then a thanks to restate gratitude that she couldn't emphasize enough.

So she had a plan, kind of. She had a first step at the very least—figure out what matters most. That direction itself took an immediate weight from JJ's chest. Some of her non-negotiable pieces were clear. Henry, for one—she had to be the mom he deserved, and that meant being happy enough to be present for him. It meant being cautious in the field so she'd be around to watch him grow. And Will was important, of course—she was lucky to be with someone so patient, who'd adapt to whatever JJ needed to recover.

The BAU was another piece that JJ needed, but unlike Emily, that meant her job just as much as her team. That surprised her. For years JJ hadn't even wanted to be a profiler, but she'd worked hard for the job, she'd grown into it, and Askari had been right in observing that she'd wither without it. Though looking back now with Emily's words fresh in her mind, maybe that need made sense. Accepting Rossi's offer had been her first step in taking control of her life after walking away from Afghanistan and that whole tumultuous year. JJ had returned from the assignment needing to take charge of what happened next; she'd done that, and for a while she'd thrived because of it. Right now, taking charge meant dealing with her trauma, along with whatever else it was—guilt; grief—that had magnified it in her mind.

Before she could back out, JJ wrote a quick email. What can you tell me about treating PTSD? She knew the basics, but Spence would have a litany of details—theoretical and empirical nuances that JJ hoped might help her imagine what she was considering and make it seem less daunting. Those details had been too much to be blindsided with in the middle of an unfamiliar precinct, but Spencer Reid was a good friend; he'd give her what she needed now and would never fault her for turning it away before. He'd see her message when he woke up. In the meantime, JJ needed real sleep.

The bedroom was quiet when she tiptoed in, with a stillness that almost felt uncomfortable for the way that it clashed with her busy thoughts. There was just enough light from the window to let JJ make out Will's silhouette—she must not have closed the blinds as carefully as usual in her distraction last night. Sunrise was still a ways off, but the sky had begun to lighten in promise of the day ahead.

"Y'okay?" Will mumbled, not really awake but protective as ever. JJ smiled, settling against his side and taking comfort in his solid presence. She nodded into his neck and pressed a kiss to his jaw, hoping the reassurance would reach his sleep-fogged brain. She added a whispered "love you," for good measure, and felt every muscle relax when he tightened his arm around her.

The thing JJ feared most was being changed beyond recognition by the men who'd already taken so much from her. But this was what they could never really take—a family eager to love whoever it was that JJ became; who stood by her unwaveringly as she figured out who that was. You won't win, JJ resolved as she drifted to sleep, where Tivon so often met her in her dreams. I won't let you.