Amour - A Jemily Fanfic

Chapter 20...

Jennifers POV...

It's barely 10 am when I get the notification, the news app on my phone alerting me of a shoot-out between the police and an armed... religious organization?

It took a second for it to click, for the connection to be drawn between the small bubble on my screen and Emily.

I'm out of my office before I realise, storming into the bullpen and grabbing the remote for the TV.

"Morgan!"

"What's up?"

"Look," I say quietly, but he's already watching the news reporter that's flashed onto the screen.

"JJ, that's not the ranch where Prentiss and Reid-"

"They're still inside," I say, a hand quickly covering my mouth as my breakfast threatens to come back up.

"HOTCH!"

...

We've only been here for 3 hours, but it feels like 3 days.

I'm useless. Absolutely useless.

A Media Liaison, sat on a glorified deck chair, in the middle of the desert while her girlfriend is stuck inside of an armed cult. I try not to think about how I might never get to call her that to her face.

The last conversation I had with her flicks through my head, it wasn't terrible, I didn't tell her I hate her or drop a huge bombshell. No, we joked and laughed and I kissed her goodbye – I just can't help thinking that this has definitely put 'labels' into perspective.

She's been patient with me, too patient; I thought that she would have got sick of it by now, and of me. But she hasn't, she just went with it – you'd think some of that 'go with the flow' energy should rub off onto me right?

Obviously not.

I mean of course, she's my girlfriend! I don't do 'casual' relationships so the inevitability of being her girlfriend – officially I mean – is... well inevitable. Everything is just going so well, and labels come with responsibility and telling people and it just becomes... real.

I manage to stop myself before I spiral, I trust Emily and everything is always better when she's around; let's just leave it at that.

I sit anxiously in my chair, staring over at Hotch and Rossi as they go over our– their game plan. I'm not equipped to deal with this; I don't even know why I'm here, no news reporters dare get close to us and there aren't exactly any press conferences I need to attend.

I pick at a loose thread on my shirt absent-mindedly, luckily my brain seems to listen to me and push everything away so I can focus solely on tugging on the thread.

I just hope it doesn't unravel – the shirt or me for that matter.

Morgan joins the group of men in their discussion while I just continue sitting here looking pretty. I wrap the thread tightly around my fingers, and pull so hard it snaps – it takes me a little by surprise but I throw it immediately to the floor. It doesn't slam – it's thread – instead, it just floats down slowly and lands by my feet.

I stay focussed on it until the crunch of gravel under wheels makes me look up - but I don't move, I don't think I've moved in the last half an hour, no reason to start now!

"Hey you!" a male voice demands, a young man ahead of me looks slightly alarmed but walks over to him nonetheless. I turn slightly to watch the exchange, the man who shouted looks like he's ready to snap the poor boy in half.

"Who's in charge here? Get him for me now!" I stand up to stop the young man in his tracks by putting up a hand.

"Can I help you?" I ask, turning my smile towards the younger man into a scowl as I face the older one.