Chapter Text
And last night I blacked out in my car
And I woke up in my childhood bed
Wishin' I was someone else, feelin' sorry for myself
When I remembered someone's kid is dead
Chapter 1
The smell of coffee drifted through the house long before the sun reached the kitchen windows. JJ stood barefoot in front of the stove, hair twisted into a lazy knot, stirring scrambled eggs with one hand and sipping from her favorite chipped mug with the other. The mug had a faded BAU logo on one side and a smiley face that Henry had drawn on the other when he was six. Emily had threatened to toss it out more than once, claiming, “emotional blackmail via dishware,” but JJ refused to let it go.
It was quiet - the kind of quiet that had once felt foreign to them. No jet engines roaring at 3 a.m., no buzzing cell phones dragging them into chaos, no field reports or case files or trauma pressed between the lines of every conversation.
Now, silence was home.
“Something smells good,” came a voice, groggy and soft.
JJ turned to find Emily leaned against the doorway, wrapped in one of JJ’s old FBI shirts, sleeves too long for her arms. Her hair was messy and her eyes were still heavy with sleep, but she was smiling.
JJ grinned. “It’s just eggs and toast. Don’t get too excited.”
Emily padded across the kitchen, wrapping her arms around JJ’s waist from behind and resting her chin on her shoulder. “It’s not the food. It’s you. You’re domestic. It’s terrifying.”
JJ laughed. “I’ll have you know I’ve been domestic for years now.”
Emily kissed her shoulder. “Yeah. Guess we both have.”
They’d left the Bureau three years ago. Quietly. Not with the usual fanfare or medals, but with a mutual decision made on a porch in Quantico one late spring night. JJ had been the first to say it out loud - I think I’m done. And Emily, surprising even herself (according to her, at least), had nodded almost immediately. Me too.
It wasn’t easy to walk away. The work had been in their lives for so long. But it had taken enough from them - time, sleep, parts of their souls they could never quite get back. And in return, they had found each other. That, JJ often thought, was the only thing that made any of it worth it.
Now they lived in a house just outside Annapolis, near the water but far enough away from everything else. Henry stayed with them part-time when he wasn’t at school, and the rest of their days were filled with small, ordinary joys - grocery runs, movie nights, gardening attempts that usually ended in mild disaster. Emily volunteered at a local library, and JJ taught self-defense workshops a few days a week at a women’s center. Their lives were smaller now, but fuller somehow.
JJ plated the eggs and passed a fork to Emily, who stole a bite before the plate even hit the table.
“So what’s the plan today?” JJ asked, settling in across from her.
Emily shrugged. “We could take the bikes out. It’s supposed to be in the sixties today.”
JJ smiled. “You’re just trying to get out of cleaning the garage.”
Emily pointed the fork at her. “Precisely.”
They talked, they laughed, they bickered about whose turn it was to do the laundry (Emily’s), and the morning passed like a slow song - steady and comforting. There were no urgent calls, no names written on whiteboards, no monsters waiting to be caught. Just the rhythm of a life they had built together, piece by piece, after years of chaos.
JJ caught herself watching Emily when she wasn’t looking. The way she tucked her hair behind her ear, the small wrinkle that appeared between her brows when she read something too fast, the softness in her expression when she looked at JJ like nothing in the world could touch them here.
She didn’t know it yet - didn’t see the shadow beginning to form at the edges of all the peace. For now, JJ was just happy.
Emily reached across the table, lacing their fingers together.
“What?” JJ asked, teasing. “You look like you’re about to say something profound.”
Emily smiled faintly. “Just… I love this life with you.”
JJ squeezed her hand. “I do, too.”
They finished breakfast slowly, not in any hurry. The dishes sat in the sink as the sun crept higher, casting long slats of light across the kitchen floor. Emily flipped through the morning paper while JJ wiped down counters, humming under her breath. The routine had the easy rhythm of a life long shared - one chore bleeding into the next, one moment into another.
Afterward, they pulled on jackets and took the bikes out just as they said they would, pedaling lazily along a trail that ran behind their neighborhood and opened up toward the marina. Spring was already starting to stretch its’ limbs - buds on trees, the faintest warmth in the breeze - but the air still held a bite. Emily’s cheeks flushed with color, her hair tucked under a knit cap, and JJ thought, not for the first time, how grateful she was for this season of their lives. For the quiet. For the softness. For the fact that they’d made it through everything and still wound up here - together.
They stoped for coffee on the way back. A place with worn booths and too many chalkboard signs, the kind of spot that offered obscure teas and pastries with names like “Sunrise Crumble”. Emily ordered a cinnamon roll the size of her face, and JJ laughed when she devoured half of it before they even got their drinks.
It was easy to forget the years they’d lost to the job. How many birthdays JJ had missed, how many nightmares Emily had buried beneath professionalism and dry humor. They didn’t talk about it much anymore - how close they’d come to falling apart, how many times they’d almost bled out metaphorically and literally. But it hovered sometimes. In glances. In touches that lingered longer than necessary.
As they stepped out of the cafe, warm coffee cups in hand, JJ nearly walked straight into someone.
“Whoa! Sorry, I -” she started, then stopped short. “Rosa?”
The woman blinked, then lit up. “JJ? No way!”
Rosa had been a victim liason on a joint case almost a decade ago. Younger than them by quite a few years, sharp as hell, and known for her habit of doodling little cartoon profilers in the margins of every case file. She’d left federal work soon after they did, choosing instead to get her MSW and work with trauma survivors in Baltimore.
“I thought you moved to Maryland,” JJ said, surprised.
“I did! But I’m back for a bit. My dad’s having surgery, so I’m crashing with my mom for awhile. God, it’s good to see you.”
Emily stepped up beside JJ, smiling. “Hey, Rosa. You haven’t aged at all. You some kind of witch?”
Rosa laughed, tucking the scarf tighter around her neck. “No, but I do eat an alarming amount of seaweed snacks. That could be the secret.”
“Noted,” Emily laughed.
They stood outside talking for a good fifteen minutes - just catching up. Rosa mentioned her nonprofit’s new grant, asked about Henry, even made a crack about Reid probably running the FBI by now (“or at least building some robot to do it for him”). It felt so normal. So casual. Three people, tangled up by old war stories and strange job titles, now just talking about gardens and travel plans and kids.
When they finally said goodbye and headed back to their bikes, JJ couldn’t stop smiling.
“See?” Emily nudged her. “It’s not just me who thinks you’re still hot.”
JJ rolled her eyes. “Pretty sure she said you haven’t aged, not me.”
“Well, she’s not wrong.”
They rode home slowly, the wind at their backs, the sun starting to tilt westward.
JJ tugged off her gloves and helmet as they rolled back up to the house, legs pleasantly sore and cheeks pink from the wind. The afternoon light cut across the front yard in golden strips, hitting the tops of daffodils just starting to open up along the fence line. She leaned her bike against the porch and stretched her arms upward with a soft groan.
“I’m gonna check on the garden,” she called as Emily unlocked the front door.
Emily waved without turning around, already halfway inside. “Don’t get lost in there. I’m serious - JJ, if I find you talking to the tomato plants again, we’re gonna have a real conversation about your mental health.”
JJ flipped her off without malice, grinning as she walked around to the side of the house.
The garden had become hers over the years - raised beds, a half-dozen terracotta pots, and a slightly crooked wooden trellis that Henry had helped her build. It was still early in the season, but her herbs were starting to perk up, and the lettuce looked like it might actually behave this time. She crouched to pinch away a few browning leaves, hands steady and familiar in the dirt. For all the chaos she used to live in, there was something grounding in this. In watching things grow. In knowing they didn’t need saving, just sunlight and water and a little bit of patience.
When she finally stepped back inside, the air smelled like rosemary and lemon and something else - something rich and buttery and warm.
She followed the scent into the kitchen and stopped short.
Emily stood at the oven, apron tied hastily around her waist, hair messily pulled back again, focused entirely on the saucepot infront of her. There were two plates already made on the counter - rosemary chicken, roasted carrots, mashed potatoes with way too much garlic, just the way JJ liked. A candle flickered between them. There was even a glass of JJ’s favorite wine waiting.
JJ blinked. “Are you trying to seduce me?”
Emily smirked without looking away from the pan. “I don’t know, is it working?”
“Maybe,” JJ said, stepping forward and wrapping her arms around Emily’s waist from behind. “What’s the occasion?”
“No occasion,” Emily said softly. “You’ve been working your ass off. You deserve your favorite dinner. And I felt like making something that didn’t come out of a box.”
JJ smiled into her shoulder. “You’re ridiculous. I love you.”
“I know.”
She let Emily lead her to the table, letting herself sink into the comfort of it. The chicken was perfect, and Emily rolled her eyes dramatically when JJ made a show of moaning over the potatoes.
About halfway through the meal, though, JJ noticed it.
It was small. Barely a shift. But when Emily reached for her glass, she hesitated for a fraction too long. Her fingers trembled - just once, just slightly - but she steadied them. JJ almost didn’t catch it. Almost.
“You okay?” she asked casually, not looking up from her plate.
Emily didn’t miss a beat. “Yeah. Just tired. I overdid it alittle with the cooking. Don’t worry - I’m not dying or anything.”
JJ huffed a laugh, trying to let the moment pass. But something about the way Emily had said it - too flippant, too rehearsed - left a tiny cold knot in her ribs.
Still, she didn’t push. Not tonight. Not yet.
Later, after dishes were stacked neatly in the sink and the last bit of wine had been poured, they moved into the living room without really needing to speak. The ritual had become second nature by now - Emily slipping off her shoes and curling up on the floor by the window, easel already angled just so; JJ tucking herself into the corner of the couch, legs stretched out and a novel in her lap, glasses perched on the bridge of her nose.
The soft hum of an old jazz playlist filtered through the speakers, low enough to not distract but steady enough to fill the silence. Outside, night had fallen clean and quiet over the trees. The windowpane fogged slightly wit the contrast of warmth inside and the spring chill just beyond.
Emily dipped her brush into a jar of deep red, dragging it across her canvas in slow, purposeful strokes. She was halfway through something abstract - sharp lines blurring into soft shapes, the kind of painting that felt like it was speaking in a language only she understood. JJ glanced at it from time to time, wondering if the darker tones tonight were deliberate or unconscious.
JJ flipped a page, but the words swam for a moment. The earlier tremor was still gnawing quietly at the back of her mind. She looked up again, watching Emily tilt her head slightly, brows drawn as she blended two shades of ochre near the edge of the canvas.
“Hey,” JJ said softly.
Emily didn’t look up. “Mm?”
JJ hesitated. “About earlier. Your hand. It shook.”
Emily set the brush down carefully, wiping her fingers on an old cloth draped over her knee. “It’s nothing.”
JJ closed her book and sat up a little straighter. “Em.”
A pause. Then Emily finally met her eyes.
“I’ve been meaning to say something,” she admitted, tone light, like she was brushing lint off a shirt. “Went to the doctor a few weeks ago. Just one of those yearly things.”
JJ’s stomach dipped. “Okay…”
“They ran some bloodwork and turns out I’m mildly anemic.” Emily shrugged like it was no big deal. “Iron levels are low. That’s probably what the hand thing is. No big deal.”
JJ frowned. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”
“Because it’s not a big deal,” Emily said gently. “They gave me supplements. I’ve been taking them. Doctor said it’s common, especially as we get older. Just means I need to eat more spinach and maybe stop skipping lunch when I’m at the library.”
JJ didn’t respond right away. She was searching Emily’s face, looking for something beneath the surface. But Emily’s expression was calm, unbothered. Reassuring.
“You swear?” JJ said finally.
Emily smiled, reaching over to brush her fingers across the back of JJ’s hand. “Scout’s honor.”
JJ huffed. “You were never a scout.”
“You know I don’t mess around with solemn vows I never technically made.”
JJ rolled her eyes, but let it go. For now. Emily had that disarming way of saying just enough truth to calm her without actually inviting more questions. It was a skill honed from years of masks and mirrors - JJ knew it better than most. But she also knew when to let things breathe. Pushing would only make Emily retreat further.
So, she just nodded, linked their fingers together, and let the silence settle back around them like an old favorite blanket.
Later, they brushed their teeth side by side in the bathroom, a quiet, familiar choreography. JJ reached for the mouthwash while Emily rinsed out in the sink. The lights above the mirror cast a soft glow over them - two women with crow’s feet and laugh lines, gray beginning to peek at the temples, standing close enough to touch without even trying.
Emily caught JJ’s eye in the mirror. “What?”
JJ shook her head. “Nothing. I just… like this.”
Emily bumped her shoulder gently. “You always get sentimental like this when you’re sleepy.”
JJ grinned through a mouthful of toothpaste. “Do not.”
Emily leaned over and kissed her cheek anyway. “Come on, sap. Let’s go to bed.”
They changed in the bedroom without words, moving in a rhythm so long-established it didn’t require direction. Emily slid into one of JJ’s old tank tops, worn soft at the seams, and JJ tugged on one of Emily’s old Quantico sweatshirts. They met in the middle of the bed like magnets.
Emily’s hand found JJ’s waist under the blankets, warm and steady. Their bodies curved together easily, like they’d been built for this exact shape. JJ tucked her face into the crook of Emily’s neck and exhaled. It was so quiet, the kind of quiet you had to earn - years of noise and grief and fighting just to get here.
And then Emily whispered, “Are you okay?”
JJ nodded against her skin. “Yeah. Just tired.”
Emily pressed a kiss to her forehead, slow and lingering. “Sleep, baby, I’ve got you.”
She always said that. And JJ always believed her.