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This is officially Emily’s worst Valentine’s Day ever.
Including that one year in college when she’d gone through her first lesbian break-up. Which is saying something, because she’d spent that February fourteenth hidden away in bed, drowning her sorrows in chocolate ice cream.
She’s currently wishing she had taken past-her’s example and not put in the effort to get out of bed at all this morning.
But she’d had hope, this morning, getting ready for the day with healthy nerves churning in her stomach. With excitement still alive and well, her spine straight throughout the commute from DC to Quantico, at the front desk in line for a temporary access pass and in the elevator up to the sixth floor.
Where her hope was trampled. Squashed. Decimated within minutes of her arrival.
What was supposed to have been this big, amazing moment she’d been looking forward to for weeks, had quickly turned sour when it had hit that Agent Hotchner had no idea about her assignment to the unit. Her much anticipated ‘first day at the BAU’ had rapidly become ‘no job at the BAU at all’.
Agent Hotchner had been excessively polite and yet also entirely unmoving: he had not agreed to her hiring, so there must have been a mix-up. Emily wouldn’t be joining his team. He’d been called away for a meeting before she could even suggest contacting the Section Chief to sort everything out, and he had been anything but subtle that he expected her to leave and not return.
But, well—
At age four Emily had decided to never let a man tell her what to do, and she wasn’t about to start today.
‘Leaving’ turned into spending the entire day flitting around from floor to floor, trying to fix a meeting with the handful of people she’d been in contact with through email about what the actual fuck went wrong in her hiring process for her to be dismisses by the Unit Chief at first glance. It’s just her luck that the Section Chief turns out to be unavailable all day, and the other agents she speaks to are exceptionally unhelpful.
By the time 9PM hits, most of the building has cleared out and Emily still has no answers. She is filled to the brim with a constant, simmering rage that is topped up with a splash of bone-deep exhaustion. So yeah, worst Valentine’s Day ever seems like an appropriate description.
At 9.15PM she’s left with no other option than to call it quits for the day.
She gets up from the desk chair and stretches her back with a tired groan. Her movements are sluggish as she clears out from the stuffy, uninhabited office she had claimed sometime near the end of the afternoon. Coat draped across her arm and bag hanging from her shoulder, she shuts the door with a little more force than necessary and sets off towards the elevator bank.
Emily’s boots click loudly against the shiny floor, the sound echoing through the empty hallways. She habitually casts a look around, peeking into the offices she passes to find them dark and deserted. It isn’t surprising, considering both the time and date. If she’d had someone waiting for her back home, she would’ve been long gone by now, too.
She tilts her head. Well, someone other than Sergio, that is. At least he will be glad to see her again. If only because he knows she’ll cave in and give him treats to make up for her lack of presence today, when he looks at her all pathetic.
All love is earned, Emily knows.
The overhead light flickers on as she turns the corner, the sensors triggered by her movement. When she nears the elevators, she resolutely refuses to look at the glass doors she’d walked through this morning in a very different mood than she is in right now. Agent Hotchner can – respectfully – go fuck himself, because Emily will fix whatever bureaucratic mess the FBI had dumped her in and she’ll prove herself enough to get onto the team anyway. He’s not getting rid of her this easily. She belongs with the BAU, whether he can see it right now or not.
The least he can do is give her a chance.
Emily blows out a breath and slows to a stop. The metal call button is cool beneath her fingertips when she reaches out to press it. Nothing happens. A frown tugs at her brows. She presses it again, harder, then once more until the button finally lights up and a faint hum reaches her ears. Emily steps back, eyes flickering between the two elevators.
Another few seconds pass until, with a soft ding, the doors on the left slide open to reveal – surprise, surprise – an empty elevator. Emily gets inside, pressing the button to get her down to the garage and turns to face the elevator bank. She taps her fingers against her leg, waiting for the doors to close.
“Hold the elevator, please!”
Emily’s hand shoots out to press against the edge of the door, prompting it to fold back in.
A blonde woman hurries inside, smoothing a hand along the top of her frizzy ponytail. Apparently Emily is not quite the only person left in the building after all. “Thanks.”
Emily paints a polite smile on her lips. “No worries.” She shifts closer to the wall, putting a more socially acceptable distance between them.
The woman glances at the floor selection buttons, but doesn’t move. Emily guesses it makes sense that she too needs to head down to the parking garage. After a brief pause, the doors close again, and they start their slow, steady descent. Emily’s mind wanders, thinking through her plans for an evening at home with Sergio. Or well, whatever is left of the evening by the time she gets back home.
She should order dinner in. Hmm… Maybe from the Italian place near her apartment? She still has that bottle of fancy wine Mother sent her to congratulate her on the new job (which, ha, the irony of breaking into that tonight doesn’t escape her), which should pair nicely with some pasta.
Her mouth waters at the thought. She’s spent the day living on granola bars, coffee and spite, so the thought of a filling meal, enjoyed from the comfort of her couch with Sergio curled up at her side, well, that’s just—
Clunk.
Emily steadies herself on the wall as the elevator jolts. Her gaze flashes aside to meet the startled, bright blue eyes of the stranger. A second passes, then the elevator comes back into motion. Emily’s shoulders sag in relief but stiffen just as fast when another jolt hits and the elevator abruptly stops moving altogether. The overhead lights flicker before snuffing out, plunging them into darkness.
…what the fuck?”
“Oh God,” the woman says.
Emily turns towards the sound, her eyes taking a minute to adapt to the lack of light. “It’s okay,” she replies, though she has no means of knowing whether that’s anywhere near true. “It’s probably just a technical issue?”
“Right, yeah.” The woman at least sounds somewhat reassured.
The contours of her person sharpen slowly as Emily blinks. It’s a weird stand-off, two strangers waiting in a dark elevator. Though it can’t take more than a minute or two, it takes far too long for Emily’s liking for the overhead lights to flicker back on.
It might just be her imagination, but they appear less bright than before.
Emily turns to the panel of buttons. The P for parking garage is no longer lit up and she leans forward to press it. Then again.
Nothing happens.
It’s not doing any good for either Emily’s heartrate or her annoyance levels. Her gaze tracks to the emergency button. She exchanges a look with the woman. There’s something that feels strangely illegal about considering it, but this does seem like the exact situation it’s made for. “Should we…”
“Yeah, probably,” the woman nods.
Emily hits the red button and waits with bated breath for an answer. And waits another few seconds. She moves closer, eyes narrowing. She presses it again just to be sure, but no matter how patient she is, no sound appears. No disembodied voice, asking what’s wrong; not even a dial tone, a ringing, an electric buzz.
Just absolute silence.
Emily will forever deny the mildly panicked noise that escapes her. She chews on her lip and slowly turns to the woman, whose wide-eyed look mirrors that of herself. “Any ideas on what we could try next?”
The woman pulls her phone from her pocket, and hope rises in Emily’s chest, because why hadn’t she thought of that, of course—
The woman grimaces and shakes her head. “No service.”
Emily’s newfound hope goes right down the drain, swirling away sadly. Well, there go her evening plans. Like a doom scenario, she can see it all play out in her head: with no way to call for help, they’ll be stuck in this elevator for hours upon hours—all night, until the first batch of employees to arrive early in the morning wonders why this elevator isn’t working and finally they’ll send someone to rescue Emily and the elevator stranger.
Maybe once that moment arrives Emily can blackmail the FBI into fixing her hiring to the BAU with the threat of suing their ass for their elevator not being up to code, apparently?
Out of habit and a need to be sure, more than anything, Emily checks her own phone to find she doesn’t have service either.
“Well,” she says.
“Well,” the woman echoes.
Emily cranes her neck, inspecting the elevator as if that will somehow make it work again, or give them a reasonable escape plan. “How long until someone realises we’re stuck in here, you think?”
The woman presses her lips together in thought, crossing her arms across her chest as she leans back against the wall. “It is late. But surely there’s at least someone who will figure out things aren’t working like they’re supposed to? Not everyone works regular hours.”
“I hope so,” Emily mumbles. It sounds an awful lot like they’re in need of a burst of luck, but she’s been running low on that all day. Getting stuck in an elevator is just the cherry on top. Another point to worst Valentine’s Day ever. It has lost any and all chance at redemption.
“And if not…” the woman says, trailing off as she thinks. “I’m supposed to meet a friend for her Galentine’s gathering and I texted her my ETA right before leaving my office. Worst case scenario, she’s the one to retrace my steps and sound the alarm.” She sees Emily’s apprehension and adds, “She works for the FBI, too, so she’ll have the resources.”
Oh. Well, that sounds like their best bet at the moment, then. Emily turns the idea over in her head. “How long would it have taken for you to get there?”
The woman winces. “Give or take an hour. Add to that a margin for unforeseen traffic or diversions… Makes it an hour and a half, two hours, for my friend to start genuinely worrying? Then she has to figure out where exactly I am…”
“We’ll be stuck in here for a while, if the elevator doesn’t magically start working again,” Emily concludes, her heart sinking to her stomach.
“Apparently so.”
Emily sags back against the wall with a silent sigh, willing a miracle to happen. She glances at the woman and finds her shifting her weight unsurely. They’re at this strange, almost awkward impasse where they have no idea how long they’ll be stuck with each other. Two strangers, forced together by bad luck.
What are the generally accepted rules in a situation like this one? Just ignore the other’s presence and hope for the best? Cling onto their professionalism as (almost) FBI employees? Make nice, exchange small talk, since they might be in here for god knows how long?
Any choice she makes is probably both right and wrong, but—
Well, Emily’s professional life at the FBI has already been shaken up majorly this morning, so why should she try and preserve what little that’s currently left of it?
“Fuck it,” she mutters under her breath. She’s tired, hungry and frustrated, with no end in sight. She slides her bag from her shoulder and gives in to the urge to get off her feet, lowering herself to the floor, stretching her legs out in front of her. There’s just about enough space to do that.
The woman huffs out a surprised laugh, but takes Emily’s move as permission to shed that professional barrier as well. Soon she joins her on the floor, sitting with her back against the opposite wall. Emily’s mouth quirks as the woman situates herself before she sticks out a hand in afterthought. “I’m JJ, by the way.” She smiles wryly. “Figure we should probably know each other’s name, since we’re stuck in here.”
Emily shakes JJ’s hand. It’s warm and soft against her own perpetually cold skin, but her grip is firm and sure. A small detail Emily appreciates. “Emily. Nice to meet you.” The automatic pleasantry falls from her lips without thought, part of a social script that, after a beat of silence, she amends with, “Though the circumstances are… less than ideal.”
“You could say that,” JJ says, not without amusement.
Emily wraps her arms around herself.
The inertia of the situation is strangely disconcerting.
Emily isn’t used to being at a standstill in life. Even when she’s working a hard case where very little seems to change, she knows she’s still moving things along, making a difference, no matter how slowly. But here—
There’s nothing she can do, to advance the situation. Emily pulls a leg up, folding her hands atop her knee. Boredom and awkwardness easily creep up as they tend to do when she doesn’t know what to do with herself. Absentmindedly, she starts messing with her bitten-down nails, hands itching for a task, anything to keep her mind occupied.
The instinct of relieving boredom so ingrained, she reaches for her phone before remembering her lack of service and Wi-Fi. There’s a certain irony to it, if she thinks about it. Cut-off from the world whilst stuck in a metal box in a building that keeps track of practically everything that is happening out there.
None of that revelation changes Emily’s predicament, though: there is not a whole lot to do whilst she waits.
Well…
Emily’s eyes flick back to JJ. While they wait… They might as well talk, right? JJ seems kind enough, at first glance. A little younger than Emily, but certainly no less sure of herself. It’s in the way she holds herself, and it’s only confirmed by the badge clipped to her blazer, which has her designation as media liaison right beneath her full title and name.
Take that, Agent Hotchner! Emily is a worthy profiler.
She wets her lips, clearing her throat. “So, JJ?” JJ looks up, her blue eyes open and inviting. “What has you stuck in in this building at this hour?”
JJ laughs quietly. It’s a pretty sound, echoing in the elevator despite its low volume. “I wasn’t even really supposed to be here,” she explains. “I took on some extra paperwork so my Unit Chief could head home early to spend Valentine’s Day with his wife. It shouldn’t have taken me long to finish, except I found inconsistencies with information we had received for a consult, which in turn led to me spending hours calling back and forth with a precinct on the other side of the country.”
Emily winces sympathetically.
“Yeah,” JJ sighs. “I would’ve stayed longer to fix it all, but it would’ve broken my friend’s heart if I skipped her Galentine’s party entirely, so I wrapped it up as best as I could for tomorrow.” JJ adds a short explanation of her friend’s tendency towards extravagant celebrations for any and all occasions. “Which, now I’m likely to miss the party anyway, but at least she can’t blame me?”
“I think she should be able to cut you some slack, after the day you’ve had,” Emily says, careful humour infusing her words. JJ laughs again, and the remaining stiffness seeps out of Emily’s shoulders, a responding grin tugging at the corners of her mouth.
“What about you?” JJ asks. She tilts her head, her ponytail swaying a little with the movement. “Are you missing any Valentine’s Day celebrations?”
“Just dinner plans with Sergio.”
“Sergio?”
“My cat.” The words have barely left her mouth or Emily winces at how hopelessly sad she sounds. She should’ve just told JJ no, I don’t have any plans, and kept it at that.
But then JJ laughs, and Emily can’t really regret making her smile. “Oh! Well, at least he won’t ditch you because you can’t show up?”
Emily points finger guns at JJ. “You got it.” She instantly drops her hands back to her lap because why did she do that. What has twelve-plus hours inside the FBI building done to her?
JJ’s kind smile lingers on her soft features. “So, what kept you busy around here today?”
The question is more loaded than she probably realises, and there is no easy, snappy answer.
Emily doesn’t even realise she’s back to picking at the tender skin of her ruined cuticles until JJ’s gaze drops and she stills. She turns her nervous energy to biting at the inside of her cheek instead, weighing her options. Can she vent to a virtual stranger and employee of this institution about the FBI’s bureaucratic mess, or should she keep it vague?
JJ’s brows slowly inch further up her forehead the longer Emily stays silent. “Feels like there’s a story there,” she prompts gently; inquisitive but unassuming.
It’s that tone that finally makes the decision for Emily. “Today was supposed to be my first day at work.
It’s weirdly cathartic, saying those words aloud to someone other than the bureaucrats whose help she needs to fix this.
“Supposed to be?”
The remnants of frustration and humiliation stir in her chest as she pulls the memory of that morning back to the forefront of her mind. “I was dismissed within minutes, because no one had told my new boss that I had been hired.”
JJ’s eyes widen with astonishment. “Seriously?”
Emily presses her lips together and nods once.
“That sounds messy.”
“Yeah, tell me about it,” Emily says. “I spent the entire day calling anyone and everyone to get it fixed, but I ended up just going around in circles, I’m pretty sure. Had to stop just now because I ran out of people to bother.”
“And now you’re stuck in here with me,” JJ finishes, glancing around the elevator. “Talk about bad days.”
“The universe might have it out for me,” Emily says, only half-joking. Her butt has grown numb, so she rolls her shoulders and reaches up to check if the emergency button is now working – it isn’t – before shifting to criss-cross her legs.
JJ wordlessly follows Emily’s example as she checks her phone, just as quickly turning it back off with a shake of her head. Still no service, either.
Emily sighs, though she hadn’t really expected any differently. They’re not getting out of here anytime soon. She cycles through a handful of opening questions, settling on, “Are you from Virginia, originally?”
JJ appears to appreciate the distraction as much as Emily does, if the way she bites into the new topic says anything. She tells Emily about growing up in Pennsylvania, sketching an image of a small town she’d been keen to escape to head to college on a soccer scholarship. There’s the impression JJ isn’t close with her family, and Emily carefully reciprocates with similar information to segue into an explanation of her own upbringing and recent (re)settling in DC.
Though they’re still practically strangers, Emily finds it strangely easy to talk to JJ. Maybe it’s the forced proximity and shared misery. Or maybe they just click, and would’ve in any situation. Whatever the reason, Emily is grateful for it.
It makes being stuck in a metal box much more bearable.
The conversation flows easily from how they found their ways to DC, to specific talks about college courses and graduating to join a male-dominated field. They still periodically check the emergency button, but it’s more for form’s sake than any real trust that the technical issue has resolved itself.
In a strange contradiction to her situation, Emily finds herself relaxing for the first time all day, listening to JJ talk. She feels engaged and human, after having spent all this time talking at people, instead of with them. Even the uncomfortable rigidity of the elevator wall against her back can’t take that from her as she watches JJ gesture passionately, in the middle of telling a tale of advocating for the victim during the last case she’d worked out in the field with her team.
Admiration swells in Emily at the fierceness and protectiveness JJ radiates. Traits that must serve both her and the people she interacts with well. It’s not hard to see how the FBI would hire a young media liaison like her.
Emily comments on it, somewhat offhandedly, catching JJ off-guard. She blushes and stammers a thanks.
“I worked hard to get here,” JJ admits. There’s a confidence to her that Emily appreciates. She’s not questioning whether she deserves her place; simply acknowledging that she put in the work. “It definitely isn’t always easy, but I think it’s worth it, in the end. It all evens out.”
Emily thinks back to her own rambunctious career path, and finds she shares the sentiment. Though her determination to end up at the BAU is in part due to her own fascination with the unit, she also knows it’s the place she can put her carefully and painstakingly culminated skills to use to save lives in a very tangible, practical way. It’s the reason she refuses to give up and back down at Agent Hotchner’s ‘no’: she belongs at the BAU.
There’s a lull in the conversation and Emily shifts again, stiffness creeping up on her. The elevator’s sharp angles and utilitarian design aren’t kind to her body. JJ rolls her neck, before pulling the elastic from her hair. She takes her time to smooth her hair back into a neat ponytail, sitting a little lower at the back of her head so it won’t bother her. The practiced movement pulls Emily’s attention to the blazer tightening around JJ’s muscled upper arms, and she blushes, quickly looking away before JJ can notice.
“What job were you supposed to start today?” JJ asks, settling back against the elevator with a quiet exhale. Her eyes flit to the visitor’s badge clipped to the bottom of Emily’s blouse.
Emily had been promised that a permanent ID was in the making, but now she is questioning even that. “Profiler,” she supplies. “With the BAU.”
JJ’s eyes widen, giving Emily a pause. A foreboding feeling washes over her.
The pieces finally slot into place when JJ double-checks, “The BAU?” and Emily remembers with a start what floor she’d been on when she got into the elevator; remembers refusing steadfastly to look back at the glass doors.
“Wait, you are—"
“I’m the BAU’s media liaison,” JJ confirms. She blinks, visibly processing the new information. When her eyes focus on Emily again, it’s like she’s seeing her through an entirely new lens. “Hotch didn’t know about your hiring?”
Emily shakes her head.
“We’ve been a profiler short for a few months now,” JJ says. Her brows furrow. “So it’s not like we can’t use the help, but for Hotch to not know? That’s wild.”
Well, at least that confirms the sketch of the true situation that had formed in the back of Emily’s mind throughout this awful day. “So, that’s a yes to being used as a part of someone’s political game then. Perfect.” Tired sarcasm drips from her words as she knocks her head back to the wall with a dull thunk.
JJ smiles sympathetically. Her gaze drops to the bag sitting at her side, and her eyes narrow, flickering back up to Emily, who can’t help but straighten.
“What?”
Instead of replying, JJ zips open her bag and rifles through it. She comes up with a thick file, brightly coloured sticky notes sticking out from the top. When she holds it out, Emily carefully takes it. “Remember the case I stayed here for?”
Emily nods once.
JJ regards her for a moment longer. “Do your worst, Agent Prentiss. Let’s see if you can help me figure out how the inconsistencies ended up in here, and what our next steps should be.”
It’s framed like a challenge, which – God help her – immediately sparks all the right part of her brain. Though she was exhausted before even getting stuck in this elevator, her lip quirks up; her heart beats a little faster. After a day of getting nowhere, this feels like a chance to engage in something that actually matters.
Emily flips the file open and scans the contents, familiarizing herself with the crime and the evidence. Additional notes with questions and theories are stuck throughout the pages, written in a neat script Emily can only ascribe to JJ.
She’s already halfway through when she realises with a start that this is the first time since JTF-12 and its fall-out that she holds a case in her hands. It doesn’t even feel strange. Unusual. This is what she was made to do.
Emily only looks up when JJ gets up to stretch and shake the sleep from her limbs. She settles back on the ground after, on Emily’s side of the elevator this time. A face-framing strand of hair has escaped her perfect ponytail, floating into her line of sight, and JJ tucks it behind her ear.
Emily can’t recall ever being this aware of a person’s presence.
When she finds her voice, she comments on the inconsistencies JJ had found and adds her own perspective. With the things she has seen, both up close and from behind a desk at the CIA, she doesn’t lack experience to pull from. And despite the grim subject matter, Emily finds it’s almost fun, to bounce ideas back and forth with JJ.
JJ finds a pen and pile of sticky notes in the front pocket of her bag and they take turn scratching additional notes for JJ and her team to take a look at once they’re all back at the office. Time entirely loses its meaning until JJ’s stomach growls loudly, abruptly shaking them out of it.
A sheepish look crosses JJ’s face and she opens her mouth, but Emily’s stomach follows suit and they huff out a laugh. Emily stretches her back and checks the watch face at the inside of her wrist. She freezes, doing a double-take, because… “It’s been nearly three hours now?”
JJ’s eyes widen when Emily shows her the time to see for herself. “Oh, shit.”
“I think it’s safe to say no one has noticed you missing yet?”
JJ grimaces. “I probably should’ve added a margin for Penelope being at least a few drinks in.”
Emily’s fragile hope of getting out of this elevator before midnight dwindles quickly. A sentiment mirrored by JJ, who tilts her head back and stares unseeingly up at the ceiling. Three hours in, they’ve both lost practically all of their professional demeanour. The stuffy air in this metal box must be getting to their heads.
“Do you think the FBI will pay us for the emotional damage they caused by letting us get stuck in here?” Emily jokes. Her heart jumps a little when it gets its intended smile in response.
“They better. I could use a nice bonus for putting up with their bullshit.” JJ’s stomach growls again, and she groans.
Emily turns to dig through her bag, fishing the half-empty box of granola bars from its depths. She also finds an only-partially squashed banana and a roll of mints, which she adds to the pile of findings. “It’s not dinner-worthy, but I’ve got some food that can tie us over until someone finally gets us out of here?”
JJ perks up, stretching forward to pull her own bag close. “Wait, I think I have…” She searches and comes up victorious with a bright red heart-shaped box.
Emily laughs. “Where did you get those?”
“Same friend who is hosting the party,” JJ explains as she opens the box to reveal an assortment of shiny chocolates. “The same friend who also gave me—” She sticks her hand into her bag. “This!” Her fingers are wrapped around the neck of a small bottle of red wine.
“Oh my god.” Emily can’t help it as she keeps laughing. It’s the ridiculousness of it all; of this entire situation they find themselves in. “I can’t believe that’s just in your work bag.”
“It was a gift,” JJ defends, though she does so with bright eyes. “I was going to take it home, but—Well, you know.”
Emily regards the interesting collection of food they’ve put together and shuts the casefile, handing it back to JJ to put away safely. “I think I’ve probably had worse dinners, if I’m being honest.” She gallantly holds out the box for JJ to take a granola bar, taking one for herself as well. After a day of nothing but them, she’s getting sick of the taste, but she knows it’ll do the trick of keeping her hunger at bay for a little longer.
JJ unscrews the cap of the wine, raising it to her mouth and pausing. “Thoughts on sharing a bottle?”
“I think I’ll survive,” Emily says. She watches JJ drink, mesmerized by how the wine briefly stains her lips a darker shade of red. She has to look away before she does something stupid, like reach out and swipe away the bead of wine that starts its slow descent from the corner of JJ’s mouth until her tongue peeks out to catch it.
Emily can’t help it that JJ is pretty.
She takes the bottle from JJ, taking a swig, the acid of the cheap wine waking up her tastebuds as she ruminates on her situation. She had noted JJ’s beauty before, in an objective way. The way she notices strangers in passing. But now…
Her stomach summersaults when JJ offers her a heart-shaped chocolate, the sweetness of it mixing strangely well with the lingering aftertaste of the wine. Her cheeks are a little warmer as she thanks JJ quietly, and she hasn’t had nearly enough wine to be able to blame the alcohol for it. Emily tries to tell herself it’s just the product of this weird situation. They would never have thought to give each other a second look, had the elevator not gotten stuck.
They’d have gone their separate ways without thought.
Like they will once they get rescued, Emily reminds herself. This fun, strangely intimate moment of sharing about herself with a stranger and drinking cheap wine won’t last forever, and they’ll end up parting ways in the parking garage. JJ will finally go to her friend, or her own apartment. Emily will head back home to Sergio, catching sleep so she can come back tomorrow to continue to clench her teeth and politely yet firmly talk some sense into the bureaucrats in question who thought it appropriate to use her as a pawn in their political game.
There will eventually come an end to their time together.
They share the remainder of the snacks and wine over easy conversation that somehow morphs into a game of twenty questions.
(If Emily tells JJ more about her life and interests than she had her last date, well, that’s neither here nor there.)
JJ loses her blazer once they’re through the small bottle of wine, claiming she’s getting too hot, and for a long minute Emily finds herself unable to tear her gaze away from the toned arms revealed by the sleeveless blouse. When she makes JJ laugh, and JJ briefly puts a hand on Emily’s upper thigh, her entire body flushes with heat. She rolls up the sleeves of her blouse and clears her throat.
Time passes weirdly, in here.
Feeling just a little silly from the exhaustion and sugar rush more so than the sips of wine, they end up on their backs on the floor, staring up at the lights in the shiny ceiling.
“JJ.”
“Yeah?”
Emily turns her head to look at JJ’s perfect side profile. Seriously, it should be illegal to have a jawline that looks like that. “I’m curious.”
“What?”
“What are you going to do with the massive pay-out the FBI will give you?”
JJ laughs, bright and joyful and Emily smiles. “I don’t know yet. I should… I should probably go on holiday, I guess.” She sighs, tilting her head in thought. “Somewhere with a beach and nice weather. A place where I can just sit down, drink my cocktail and read a terrible romance novel. Or—I could just plan a shopping trip, if I’m short on time. Depends on how big of a pay-out we’re thinking?”
“Millions,” Emily says in mock-seriousness.
JJ barks out another laugh. “Oh, vacation for sure then, and shopping.” She hums. “An apartment where I can fit more than three pieces of furniture. A life-time supply of Cheetos. If we’re talking millions, well… I could probably throw in a student loan payment as well.”
“Sexy,” Emily deadpans.
“I know, right.” JJ nods empathetically. She turns her head, bright blue eyes flitting across Emily’s face. “What about you, Agent Prentiss?”
Emily considers the question for a second. “I second your shopping idea. I could use a new pair of nice boots. And… Go out to eat.” She falls silent.
“I feel like you should dream bigger than that,” JJ says. “Like—I don’t know, a new car. Or a motorcycle.” She regards Emily as if she’s already picturing her in a leather jacket and riding gear.
“Those things are deathtraps,” Emily shoots down. “Maybe I should just use the millions to take care of a bunch more cats. Maybe Sergio will be less grumpy if he has friends, and I could officially claim my status as a cat lady. My mother would be horrified.”
Though JJ seems mildly disappointed at Emily’s dismissal of the motorcycle idea, she still nods her approval. “Now that sounds like a plan.”
Silence settles over them. Emily yawns and checks her watch. They’re well past midnight now, and the reality of being stuck in here overnight starts to settle in.
“I’m going to be taking the stairs next time I try to leave the building after regular working hours,” JJ says. “My trust in elevators has greatly diminished.”
Emily snorts. “Tell me about it.” She studies the elevator doors from her position on the ground and tries to imagine where they are. Are they stuck in between floors? Or when the power is properly restored, will they just slide open to reveal they’ve been at their destination all along?
Through the silence, a faint scratching sound reaches her ears.
They shoot upright, sharing a look through the headrush but holding their breaths as their ears are piqued for another sign of life outside this metal box. Emily mentally counts the seconds pass before a muted creak cuts through the silence.
Someone is working at the door.
Emily gets up to her feet, offering a hand to JJ and pulling her up as well. She bangs on the door with a fist. “Hello?”
The sounds disappear, but are replaced by what Emily is sure is muffled conversation. Her heartrate kicks up.
Then, finally, with a deceptively easy whoosh the doors slide open, revealing two firefighters kneeling a little below Emily’s shoulder height.
“Heya folks,” one firefighter greets with a friendly smile. He inspects them with a professional gaze, assessing. “How are we doing in here?”
“Alive and well,” JJ says. “But ready to get out of here.”
They collect everything in their bags, handing them over. Then, one by one, the firefighters offer a hand each to hoist up JJ, then Emily, out of the elevator and onto the solid ground of the first floor.
Emily inhales deeply, enjoying the non-stuffy air.
“JJ!” A mildly inebriated ball of colour and glitter crashes into JJ, hugging her tightly. “You’re okay!”
JJ smiles, pressing her cheek to the side of her head. “Hi, Pen.”
Penelope pulls back, eyes watering behind her frames. “I’m so, so sorry I didn’t get to you faster, Peaches! I got pulled into a crafting session, and you know how I am with crafts, we had so much glitter. I had another drink and before I knew it too much time had passed for you to get from here to me and I just knew something was wrong—”
Emily is surprised Penelope has yet to run out of breath.
“You weren’t answering your phone so I had to get to my computer, and I just started at the beginning, trying to track your GPS and looking up security footage and I realised you never got out of the elevator! Which meant you still had to be in there, but it had been so long and I was so worried for you, but I couldn’t drive, so I took an uber while I called the boss-man, because I didn’t know what to do, and—
“Pen,” JJ says. Then, louder, “Pen!”
Penelope falls silent.
“I’m okay,” JJ assures. “Though I’m very grateful you found me.” She twists to look at Emily. “Well, us, really.”
Emily’s stomach tumbles.
“Oh goodness!” Penelope focusses her hazy gaze on Emily and before Emily knows it, she is pulled into a bone crushing hug. “Thank you for keeping JJ company! I am eternally grateful she wasn’t stuck all by herself.”
“…You’re welcome?” Emily isn’t sure what the appropriate response is, considering she had no choice in the matter.
Penelope releases her and returns to fussing over JJ. Emily turns to thank the firefighters for their help, but freezes when she sees they’re talking to—
“Hotch?” JJ says, having spotted him too.
He pauses in conversation, looking up. He’s a lot less put together than when Emily had seen him that morning, when he’d been all business in his suit and tie. Penelope had clearly called him out of bed, because he’s wearing jeans and a wrinkled shirt, like he pulled on the first thing he could find. After their less-than-pleasant confrontation earlier, Emily hates to admit that she realises the softer kindness in him, having come all this way without hesitation because his teammate was in trouble.
“JJ,” Hotch nods. “Are you sure you’re alright?”
“Perfectly fine,” JJ assures. “Tired, and I could do with a good meal, but I’m unharmed.”
Hotch’s eyes flicker over to Emily. If he’s surprised to see her, it doesn’t show. “Agent Prentiss.”
“Sir,” Emily says. His gaze feels heavy, and she feels very aware of how ruffled and un-put-together she looks after several hours of being stuck in the elevator.
“I trust you’re fine as well?”
Emily nods.
“Good,” he says.
A beat of silence passes.
“How was your Valentine’s Day dinner?” JJ asks. Despite her tiredness, there’s a teasing lilt to her voice.
Hotch sighs. “It was good. I really am glad I was able to head out early to catch our reservation.” He regards JJ, who waits for him to continue. “But I have a feeling it’s partially to blame for your involvement in tonight’s predicament?”
JJ pulls the casefile from her bag. “Found some inconsistencies that kept me here longer than I planned to be.” A beat. “We’ve added some comments for you to look at.”
Hotch raises a brow. “We?”
JJ presses her lips together and nods. “We had plenty of time to chat, and Agent Prentiss has some good insights.”
Hotch’s eyes flicker to Emily, who does a terrible job at pretending she isn’t listening closely.
“You should give her a chance,” JJ adds, a little lower, but unrelenting. Like she has dug her metaphorical heels in.
“JJ—”
“I know,” JJ interrupts. Emily holds her breath. Challenging authority figures has historically not wielded great results for her. Why is JJ pushing back so hard on this for her? “But… Someone you greatly admire thinks you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”
Emily hadn’t been sure whether Hotch could smile, but is proven wrong when the corner of his mouth twitches ever so slightly in amusement. Her shoulders dare to relax as her mind turns around this insight into JJ and Hotch’s relationship.
“We’ll revisit this later,” Hotch says, which Emily knows is not a no. “For now, I imagine you’re wanting to get home. Freshen up, have some food, go to bed.”
JJ’s eyes narrow, studying him. She must be satisfied by what she sees, because her face smooths out. “Alright.”
Hotch turns his attention to both of them when he asks, “Will you be fine getting home safely on your own, or should we call you a ride?”
Whatever little alcohol they had consumed isn’t enough to actually affect them, and Emily is tired but not yet a danger on the road. She politely declines the offer, much like JJ.
“Alright,” Hotch says. “Have a good night, then. Garcia, if you come with me, I’ll bring you home on my way.”
Penelope smiles widely, and after a set of exuberant goodbyes, she trails after Hotch like an obedient energetic puppy.
Emily and JJ turn to each other.
“So.”
“So.” JJ clears her throat. “To the parking garage.”
“Let’s take the stairs, this time.”
They wave the firefighters and security personnel goodbye and head for the stairwell. After hours of being stuck in between floors, it takes them laughably little time to reach the parking garage. There’s a joke on the tip of Emily’s tongue, but when she steps out into the echoey space she abruptly realises that this is the end to their strange adventure and the words die in her throat.
“I’m over there,” JJ says, gesturing vaguely ahead.
“I’m here.” Emily points to the left.
They dawdle on their spots.
“I—” JJ starts, then stops. She turns aside to dig through a pocket in her bag for a pen and a business card. She scratches something on it with blue ink, handing it to Emily with a wink. “In case you’d like to stay in touch.” Her eyes flicker down to Emily’s visitor badge. “But I don’t think it’ll be an issue. I have a feeling we might be seeing each other again soon.”
“Thank you,” Emily says quietly. (She’s not just talking about the business card.)
JJ hesitates, then closes the space between them to wrap her arms around Emily in a warm hug. “Have a good night, Emily.”
Emily has just enough time to echo the words before JJ sets off towards her car, keys dangling from her fingers. Her business card burns in Emily’s hand. Only when JJ disappears from sight, does she finally look at it to find all of JJ’s contact information, printed in blocky letters and numbers. She turns the card and is greeted with the sight of a personal phone number scrawled across the back.
Call me, it reads underneath.
Emily smiles.