Work Text:
"That is my principal objection to life, I think: It is too easy, when alive, to make perfectly horrible mistakes.” – Kurt Vonnegut
"Whoa whoa whoa! Easy there, babygirl!" Derek yelped when Garcia tripped over his feet and fell into his arms. "Now usually I'm not one to complain when a pretty girl falls for me..." he chastised and recieved a grunt in response.
In fact, it seemed as if Penelope was unaware that she had even stumbled at all.
Derek glanced over at JJ, his eyebrows raised in a can you believe this look and JJ only shrugged slightly before taking a sip of her coffee and turning her attention to the technical analyst.
She adored Garcia, but she had to admit, it was strange to see her with her face buried in a file. A tablet? Yes. Cell phone? Definitely. But a file? Never.
Taking care to be subtle, JJ raised up on her toes to look down over Penelope's shoulder only to discover she wasn't immersed in a file at all, but rather, a book, tucked into a file.
Eyes scanning the page quickly, JJ felt her face heat up at the most beautiful (and graphic) description of a love scene she'd ever read. She coughed slightly when she realized it was between two women, her throat suddenly dry, feeling like she was choking on her own tongue.
Garcia snapped around to face her, cheeks tinting pink while she gaped, trying to judge JJ's reaction. She took note of the other blonde's shallow breathing, her slightly dilated pupils, the flush creeping up her neck.
Oh.
JJ's eyes darted around the kitchenette before she cleared her throat and focused on her coffee cup, taking a sip and avoiding eye contact with Garcia.
Oh.
Gracia gave her a knowing smile and whispered "Amelie d'Aubingy" into her ear before briefly touching her arm and grabbing her cup of tea to leave the tiny break room.
"What the hell was that?" Morgan picked up on JJ's discomfort, and had they not had the no profiling rule, he might have looked into it a little closer, might have seen what what Penelope had just sussed out. Instead, he waited for an answer.
JJ opened her mouth to make up some lame ass excuse, but was thankfully saved by Emily knocking on the wall and gesturing over her shoulder.
"Hotch needs us," she breathed, inclining her head at JJ, silently asking if she was OK. JJ gave a slight nod in return and followed the older woman into the debriefing room.
Hotch called wheels up and everything after that moment was a blur. JJ hadn't had a moment to herself, let alone time to think about the brief glimpse of whatever Garcia had been reading earlier.
Now, finally, finally, they were able to call it a night and get a few hours rest before being back at the precinct in a little over six hours. Jennifer wanted nothing more than to flop face first onto the hotel room bed but she decided to take the time to properly prepare herself for the coming days. Besides, who knew when she'd get a chance to actually shower after tonight and she wasn't about to waste the opportunity to indulge in a little hot water.
Reaching for her go bag, JJ dug out her shower gear, only to notice something foreign peeking from underneath her clothes. She gingerly lifted the object from her bag, learning it was a book.
The cover had a beautifully illustrated blackbird in flight on the front, the title, Flip the Script, written in swirled silver calligraphy.
JJ's eyes scanned the cover before landing on the author: Amelie d'Aubingy. Breath catching, JJ flipped to the title page, a note falling out.
Welcome to the family!
Love, PG
JJ felt herself flush again. Sure, JJ knew she was bisexual, had always known, but she'd never actually come out, especially not at work. And then JJ's mind caught on the word family. What the hell did Garcia mean by family? Obviously the BAU was a family, they always have been. But JJ was pretty certain that wasn't what Penelope was referring to... Either way, it was reassuring to know that Penelope was in her corner, even if she preferred her personal life to remain just that: personal.
All thoughts of a shower long forgotten, JJ flipped to the next page, reading the dedication.
To my blackbird,
Tu ne choisis pas de qui tu tombes amoureux. Mon coeur est à toi, mon amour, et je te porte toujours avec moi.
Thank you for helping me learn to fly.
La tiens
JJ's breath caught. Her French was clunky and she certainly spoke it better than she could read it, but she could tell the author truly loved whomever she had dedicated this book to. Without hesitation, she began to read, all thoughts of anything that wasn't the weight of the book in her hands and the story that swirled in front of her abandoned.
She looked out over the Seine, the weight of all the locks adorning the Pont des Arts seemingly on her shoulders. She knew it was a fruitless endeavor, a hopeless attempt to reclaim what used to be, what lived in her heart.
Her heart, she scoffed. Mon coeur, she thought bitterly, recalling a simpler time, when they existed together and everything was beautiful and nothing hurt. Mon coeur used to be the name her lover called her, before she took her heart with her and left her alone in Paris. To what end, she'd wondered.
Her merle, her blackbird, as she'd been fond of calling her, had learned to fly and left her broken.
But it was all in the past and nothing could change that, nothing could set her free from the ache she felt, the pain of her life every day.
Taking in a deep breath, she made her way to the Pont de Arts, and located the lock her and her merle had placed on the bridge what seemed a lifetime ago. She remembered in vivid clarity as she gathered the blonde in her arms and kissed her while they threw the key in the Seine, her only thoughts about how achingly perfect this moment was and how she would carry it with her, always.
"Toujours," she had breathed against her blackbird's lips and she watched as those blue eyes fluttered before she repeated it back to her, kissing her again.
Reaching out and grasping the lock delicately, she cut it from the bridge as her vision blurred. She dropped the lock quickly in her pocket and stood, only to hear a gasp, followed by a confused mon coeur. She didn't bother turning to look around. She knew what she would find and she couldn't handle it.
Instead, she ran, because that's what she was best at.
Because nothing was beautiful and everything hurt.
JJ's eyes burned, whether from exhaustion or tears, she was uncertain at this point. She devoured the book Penelope had given her, reaching the halfway point before realizing she should probably get some rest or risk being a hazard later.
The book was beautifully written and drew so many parallels to her own life. Her hearth clenched at the memories she and Emily had shared in Paris. No, they had never placed a lock on the Pont de Arts, but they had walked the bridge, arm in arm as Emily told her about it, whispering quietly in a combination of English and French. She could practically smell the Seine now, feel the breeze in her hair as the fog rolled in from the river, leaning closer to Emily for warmth. They had stopped at a quiet cafe, Emily easily slipping into her new identity and speaking so fluently and with no detectible accent. JJ, on the other hand, was clumsy and their waiter laughed before commenting on her accent américain griçant and slipped into nearly flawless English.
JJ didn't mind, though, because she was with Emily and everything in that moment was beautiful, even if it was tinged with sadness at what they both knew was to come.
And as if Emily could sense her shifting thoughts, she reached forward, gently grasping Jennifer's hand in her own, letting JJ see the emotion swirling just behind the brown of her eyes, before giving her the smallest of smiles.
Emily's eyes had always been one of JJ's favorite things. They were always breathtaking. They carried so many shades and colors, had such a depth JJ found herself captivated every time Emily glanced in her direction. They were like honey when the sun hit them, and stormy in the dark, with every other color in between. JJ joked once that she could write an entire magnum opus dedicated to Emily's eyes, choosing to name it Petit Morte au Chocolat Noire.
Emily snorted when Spencer had launched into whether the use of noire was proper over noir because in French, chocolate was masculine. Suddenly JJ recalled conjugating verbs in college, grumbling to herself about "why the fuck is a chair feminine...?" She must have said something out loud because Emily began to laugh before responding in French.
"Car, mon merle, le Français est la langue de l'amour. Et finalement, cela signifie le sexe."
JJ supposed she couldn't argue with that.
JJ strode into the precinct carrying a much larger coffee than would be considered professional if not for the fact that this was their fourth day in whatever-the-fuck-town they were in. She also carried a second, equally large coffee for Emily.
Judging by her shit mood for the past few days and the ever growing bags under her eyes, JJ guessed Emily was sleeping about as well as she was, which was to say, not at all.
It wasn't that JJ had stayed up reading Flip the Script since that first night. She hadn't had the time.
It was more that this unsub had been particularly prolific and they were running themselves ragged attempting to get ahead of them.
Just because she understood Emily's frustration didn't make it any less grating when Emily snapped at her. The coffee was a peace offering for the day.
Plopping down in the chair next to Emily, JJ plunked the extra exceptionally large mug next to Emily, who startled from staring at the file in front of her.
"Learn anything new?" JJ was hesitant to ask for fear of irking the brunette, but she wasn't sure what else to say.
"Pour moi? Je pourrais t'embrasser..." Emily muttered, taking a sip of her coffee.
"Je ne dirais pas non," JJ answered without thinking, taking a sip of her own coffee. It was something her and Emily had started doing since Emily came back from the dead. It helped keep JJ's language skills intact as well as gave her something to feel like was just theirs.
Emily barked a short laugh before pecking JJ on the cheek.
"Garde-le dans ton pantalon, Jareau."
JJ felt her cheeks warm before she joined in Emily's laughter. Already the day felt brighter, knowing that if she didn't accomplish anything else, she was the reason Emily smiled.
"Actually, your timing is fortuitous. I could use a break. Entertain me," Emily grinned around her coffee cup.
"And how do you propose I do that, Prentiss?" JJ loved talking with Emily, loved their banter, but today she was so drained she wasn't sure where to start.
Emily shrugged and leaned back in her chair. "I don't know," she whispered, snaking her thumb into her mouth to chew the nail. JJ promptly grabbed her hand and held it in her own. Reaching for her coffee cup again, Emily brought it to her mouth before asking "read any good books lately?"
JJ studied Emily, trying to decide what to say. She wanted to talk to her about Flip the Script, truly. It was beautiful and she just knew Emily would love it. But she wasn't sure where Emily stood in terms of sharing her sexuality. Emily talked a big game and had done her fair share of humiliating men, but at the end of the day, Emily never shared much of her personal life. That changed a little bit when she came back, but she was still a deeply private person.
JJ could understand that. But if she were being honest, she was ready to open herself up more to Emily in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, Emily would do the same.
Taking a deep breath, JJ clasped her hands on the table in front of her, taking a moment to study Emily as she waited for her answer.
"Actually, yeah. Yeah. I'm reading this really great book right now."
Emily raised her eyebrows as if to say continue before taking another drink from her mug.
"It's called Flip the Script and it's by someone named Amelie d'Aubingy."
Emily chocked on her coffee, spitting across the table and all over her file in the process.
"Oh my God," Emily wheezed, "I am so sorry! That just... went down the wrong pipe..." Emily's eyes darted all over the room until they landed on a box of tissue. She jumped up from the chair to grab them, asking JJ to continue while her back was still turned.
JJ was mildly concerned, but Emily seemed more embarrassed than anything so she chose to let it go.
"Tu sais, si j'étais Spencer, je te parlerais de l'anatomie des voies respiratores."
"Dieu merci, vous n'êtes pas Spencer...Parlez-moi de ce livre?"
"Oh, yeah. Of course. Well, it's interesting," JJ began.
"How so?" Emily asked, genuinely interested in Jennifer's thoughts of the novel.
"Well, it's a love story. But, it's like a ghost story, too, in a way." JJ shrugged, trying to figure out exactly how to explain it.
Emily wore a confused look for a moment before inclining her head for JJ to continue.
"I know, it sounds weird, right? But it's not. It's so beautiful, Emily."
"Really?"
"Really. The author never uses names. She just refers to the characters as mon coeur and merle. Merle is the lost love of mon coeur, the main character, and the story follows her through Paris as she remembers their time together. It starts with her cutting a lock off the Pont de Arts on the Seine."
"Mince. But the whole point of those locks is to symbolize a love that lasts forever," Emily countered.
"Exactly!" JJ nearly shouts. "mais l'amour de mon coeur est éternel, which is why she took the lock!"
In these moments it was easy for them to forget about everything around them, forget other people. The more they had this time, the more they began to blur a mix of French and English spoken between them. It was often that Emily struggled to speak in only one language and only English, especially because English could be so limited. JJ began to understand that more the longer they spoke in French.
"Mais porquoi est-ce une historie de fantôme?"
"Je ne sais pas," JJ replied. "I think it's because of the love they never got to have."
It was the first time JJ had made this realization and now the parallels between Flip the Script and her own life, her life with Emily, were glaringly obvious.
JJ cleared her throat and glared into her mug, willing her blush to go down. Suddenly she didn't want to talk to Emily about this book until she finished it, knew it's ending so hopefully she'd have an idea of their own resolution.
It was a silly thought and something JJ knew was unequal to their own situation, but she wanted the book to end with everything turning out alright in the end. She wanted that desperately for herself and the realization of the book's name hit her.
She could flip the script. She had all the power over her own life, it was just never as apparent before.
With that clarity came an epiphany regarding the unsub.
JJ shot from her chair and hurried down the hall, Emily close behind.
Emily nearly had a coronary when JJ mentioned the title of the book. Her heart pounded in her chest so loudly she feared JJ could hear it. Spewing her coffee across the table wasn't exactly smooth, either.
It never in a million years crossed her mind that JJ, of all people, would stumble on that book.
And she had pretty much nailed its theme. Jennifer was always much more perceptive than people gave her credit for. It was both inspiring and infuriating at times.
Emily could glean from her synopsis JJ hadn't made it to the end yet, hadn't read the fate of the lovers or mon coeur. Emily wasn't about to ruin it for her, either, but she wondered how she would react.
Emily always wondered about Jennifer.
Emily always wondered about Jennifer in ways that weren't normal for a relationship between coworkers, or even friends, for that matter.
She couldn't help it. She'd found herself inextricably drawn to the blonde from those first days going over procedure together.
And then an absurd protectiveness for her grew after the incident with Tobias Hankel. That piss ant of a man had haunted JJ's nightmares for weeks and somehow Emily would open her door to find the blonde sobbing at all hours of the night.
JJ was mistaken in assuming that Emily's strength came from being unbothered. She was actually terribly bothered, just not in the ways that everyone presumed.
Compartmentalizing helped.
So did writing.
Which brings her back to the topic at hand....Flip the Script.
How much should Emily reveal to JJ? What was she willing to risk? What was she willing to gain?
Jennifer mentioned something about a love that never was and then turned a pretty shade of pink before her eyes bulged and she jumped up from the chair, darting from the conference room.
"JJ?" Emily called, but when her question went unanswered, Emily jumped up to follow.
Thanks to JJ's epiphany, they were able to locate the unsub rather quickly. It was nothing more than a matter of a chance not taken, rejection, and the rage is disappointment.
Emily had somehow managed to sneak up on the unsub while they were distracted by Derek and JJ. Unfortunately, JJ's quick glance to Emily alerted the unsub of her presence, resulting in her getting pistol whipped before she swept the unsub's legs out from under them, pinning them quickly. It seems Emily may have at least fractured the unsub's wrist when she slammed it on the ground, forcing them to release their grip on the gun while Derek kicked it away. Emily flipped them over and cuffed them in a matter of seconds, the unsub whimpering when she tightened the cuffs just a little more snug than was necessary.
The whole takedown took last than 3 minutes and JJ made a mental note to start picking up extra training hours with Prentiss and Morgan.
Tucking her glock into her holster, JJ helped Emily up from the ground, wrapping her arm around the older woman's hips to lead her to the waiting medic.
Emily grunted in response, forgoing her usual objections to medical treatment in the face of the beginnings of a headache. She'd take some aspirin, but anything else and they could kiss her ass.
Hotch nodded to JJ on their way past and she understood the silent request: make sure she behaves.
JJ knew Emily wasn't interested in behaving per se, but she could at least get her to cooperate, even if was momentarily.
Once Emily was cleared, their statements taken, guns checked, and debriefing scheduled, the team was excused to gather their belongings and load into the suburbans that would transport them directly to the airstrip after the last of their duties were fulfilled.
It was still another four and a half hours of bureaucratic bullshit, red tape, and pestering by the press before they loaded into the suburbans. JJ sighed and Emily rested her head on her shoulder. No concussion, thankfully, but pounding behind Emily's eyes had her seeking some bit of comfort. JJ was soft and warm and Emily felt herself relax instantly when the blonde began to run her fingers through her hair. JJ, lost in her own thoughts, turned and placed a tender kiss on the brunette's forehead before leaning her head back and falling asleep.
It was a short 40 minute trip to the air field, but apparently 40 minutes was enough for Emily to wrap her arms around JJ's waist and curl into the softnes of her neck. JJ for her part had curled into Emily, tangling her fingers into her shirt like she was afraid she would disappear. It wasn't uncommon for the two to wake up cuddling or touching in some way.
Hell, JJ had cuddled with practically everyone on the team at some point, and she had one adorable picture of Spencer curled up in Derek's lap while Derek had sprawled himself on the jet's couch, his head thrown back, baseball cap covering his face. She only brought it up when Derek was being particularly mouthy, but it still caused a warmth in her chest at the thought of her family.
Emily on the other hand was slightly more reserved when it came to physical touch, choosing to really only interact with JJ and occasionally Penelope. Unless you counted the number of times she smacked Morgan upside the head. She did harbor a soft spot for Spencer, though, and frequently wrapped the young man in a warm hug after returning to the BAU.
Untangling themselves, JJ and Emily strode onto the jet, taking seats on the couch; Emily stretching out and using JJ's lap as a pillow while JJ read and ran her fingers through Emily's hair absently.
"Amelie d'Aubingy? Do you suppose that's any relation to Julie d'Aubingy?" Spencer queried. JJ was distantly aware of the question, but not aware enough to speculate.
"Mademoiselle Maupin?" Emily called and JJ could hear the smile in her voice. "The cross dressing opera singer who cuckholded men and then beat them in sword fights?"
"Do you know of any other Julie d'Aubingys?" Morgan asked and before Spencer could go on a tangent, Rossi sat down and added in his two cents.
"Emily, aren't you distantly related to La Maupin?" He stated, sipping on his scotch.
"Very distantly and in name only," she answered, "though I do enjoy cuckholding men." JJ snorted and lightly scratched at Emily's scalp. Emily gave a slight moan and rolled toward JJ, burying her face into the cloth covering JJ's stomach.
"I don't know," JJ countered, "I've heard you sing. Now shush, I'm nearly finished."
The jet fell into silence and JJ was once again lost to the words before her on the page.
She knelt down on the Pont de Arts, grasping the lock in her hand. This is where it all began and ended, simultaneously.
Tracing the delicate etching of a small bird ensconced in flowers, she felt herself tear up. The etching itself was lovely, but it was caked in rust and grime from years of exposure, as well as other things.
She knew what she would find when she swiveled the latch to reveal the key hole. It stuck slightly and the edges of the latch left behind an etching of its own: rusty in color but not the same as the rust on the outside of the lock.
No.
This had a different origin and her heart clenched as she remembered, eyes squeezing tightly against the memory.
The warmth that oozed around her hand as she tried in vain to staunch the flow of her lover's blood; the small gasp that escaped her lips; the pain, the confusion, the relief, as she tumbled, smiling into the Seine.
Mon coeur. Her heart. It was her last gift to her, that smile.
Pulling the lock from the bridge, she turned it over and felt the weight of it in her hand before she pressed it to her lips, the initials there burning like a brand: E&J, intricately looping together, binding them for eternity.
Her work was done now. She could finally rest, finally return to her heart. Her wings were broken, her voice strained.
But none of that mattered.
Gripping the lock tightly, she leaned over the edge of the railing, admiring the swirling depths below.
And she saw her, waiting, smiling.
"Mon merle," her heart beckoned and she found that she could no longer resist.
"Mon coeur," she whispered back, letting go.
And she flew.
JJ was reeling with thoughts as her brain tried to wrap itself around the ending of Flip the Script.
It was beautiful and tragic and exactly that push JJ needed.
She could feel the tears that stained her cheeks. She knew she looked like a mess but she couldn't bring herself to care. She had to do something, now, before the fire inside her died.
As she drove hastily to get destination, trying to find the words to say, something niggled at the back of her mind.
Not something, but someone.
d'Aubingy.
JJ's heart stuttered and she pressed down harder on the accelerator.
Emily heard a knock coming from her front door. She had just opened a bottle of red and was snuggled up with Mother Night, working to quiet her mind from the last 5 days.
She wasn't expecting anyone, and even with her old life dead, unexpected visitors made her heart pound erratically.
Grabbing her glock from the side table, Emily peered through the peephole to be greeted by Jennifer Jareau, blonde hair disheveled and tears streaming down her cheeks.
Setting down her firearm, Emily carefully undid the chain lock and slowly opened the door.
JJ's heart was beating at an outlandish rate. She felt it might burst from her chest the moment Emily opened the door and she began to panic. She didn't have time for that though.
She heard the lock slide and the door creaked open slowly, Emily's curious eyes peering out at her.
"Êtes-vous Amélie d'Aubingy?"
So much for subtle.
Emily gave a small nod in the affirmative and opened the door wider, allowing JJ to enter.
Instead, JJ hesitated at the threshold, glancing from Emily's eyes to her lips before taking a small step forward.
Reaching a tentative hand forward, JJ gently brushed aside a strand of Emily's dark hair, eyes fluttering closed when Emily leaned into her touch.
"Mon coeur," she whispered.
"Oui, mon merle," Emily answered, before pressing her lips lightly to JJ's and touching their foreheads together.
“There is love enough in this world for everybody, if people will just look. I am proof of that.” – Kurt Vonnegut