FF Slow Surprise (Criminal Minds) JJ/Emily NC-17 7/14
Despite the gorgeous day, no one spoke as they rode to the south pasture. The cattle scattered as the group of riders crossed the field, JJ behind them in the wagon with Dr. Reid.
The body was just where Prentiss had said it was, just as she'd said it. This time, JJ didn't go near it.
Reid bent down, moving the woman's hair aside before sighing in recognition. “She was strangled.”
“You think it was the same person?”
“Marks look the same. She was beaten pretty badly. I can't say for certain, but I'd guess she's been out here a few days at most.”
“Anyone recognize her?”
Now, JJ did take a closer look, but kept her eyes on the woman's face as much as she could. Underneath the bruises and the cuts she could tell the woman had been beautiful in life. Sadly, she didn't recognize her - and neither did anyone else.
“This guy is starting to really piss me off,” Rossi grumbled.
“Bodies are piling up,” Morgan said softly. “People are gonna get real uncomfortable, real fast.”
Shared looks. They all knew who the obvious targets were when a town needed a scape goat.
“If no one recognizes her in town, maybe we should ride out. Up to the mining camp. Check out the towns along the railroad,” Prentiss suggested. “Someone has to have seen her.”
“We should check with all the stage coach drivers,” JJ added. “That's the last place the other woman was seen, wasn't it?”
“Good thinking,” Hotch nodded. “For now, I think you and Miss Prentiss should stay in town. We don't know what's going on here, and I don't feel comfortable leaving you ladies alone this far from town.”
Only the severity of the moment and the earnestness of Hotch's words kept Emily from laughing outright. JJ gave her a warning look. “I appreciate the offer, but we'll be fine.”
“Miss Prentiss-”
“-This is my land,” Emily cut off, her voice edging toward a growl. “It took my thirty-five years to get here. I will not be scared off. Ever.”
“I understand, but-”
It was like lightening; like that first day all over again. A flash of movement, a blur of motion. Two Peacemaker's drawn, spun, cocked and pointed at Hotch in under a second. Just as quickly, Emily had them holstered again.
She did it once more to prove the point.
Rossi cleared his throat. “Well, it seems as if Miss Prentiss has the matter under control.”
“I still don't like it,” Hotch grumbled.
“You don't have to,” Emily answered, meeting his stare measure for measure. She relented momentarily, glancing at JJ. “I'm only speaking for myself. If you want to stay in town-”
JJ didn't let her finish. “- I have a job to do.”
“Then I guess that settles that.”
None of the men seemed particularly pleased, but there was little an argument would accomplish. The body was loaded into the wagon. Upon their return to town, Dr. Reid made a sketch of the victim once more. Sadly, Miss Penelope had no information this time. Neither did anyone else.
Despite Hailey's best attempt - at Aaron's urging - JJ packed Henry into the wagon with her, the mule plodding side by side with Emily's Arabian as the two women went home.
Henry went to bed with minimal fuss - a full day of playing with Jack and trying to keep up with the older boy tiring him out completely. JJ pulled the sheet she used as a curtain around his bed, giving she and Emily the illusion of privacy as they sat down across from each other at the kitchen table.
JJ poured them both a cool cup of water. Summer was stretching on, the nights growing shorter, the days longer, and the heat oppressive even once the sun had gone down. “I'm not particularly happy with how Hotch went about it, but he's not wrong. There's a certain amount of danger for two women, living alone, miles from town.” She couldn't help but grin, and add, “Even if you are a fancy gunsmith.”
Emily smiled softly. “Most of that was for show.”
“I figured.”
“Not all of it, though.” She took a sip of water. “I always hit what I'm aiming for.”
“I wouldn't expect anything less.” Emily smirked. JJ felt her chest hitch, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end despite the heat. She gulped the rest of her water. “Even so… I think it would be best if you weren't out in that shed alone.”
“I'm not leaving you out here every night to sleep at the saloon-”
“-Of course not,” JJ countered, “My bed sleeps two.” She blushed softly. “I mean, if you want… there's no where really else to sleep except the floor. And that just seems silly.”
Silly… right… just like the way Emily's pulse danced under her skin felt completely silly at the mere idea of JJ's bed. But there was no graceful way to turn down the offer without offense of some kind. “It wouldn't be too much of an imposition?”
“None at all.”
“I'll, uh, just get my things.”
“I'm, uh, gonna get changed for bed.”
Did she run from the cabin? Emily thought she'd walked at her usual pace, but the way her heart thundered in her chest she might as well have been running up the side of a mountain. Inside her cozy little shed she stripped off her clothes and washed up with the small basin of soap and water she kept on the table.
The night gown came to her knees, the long sleeves rolled up in deference to the heat. She tied her hair up into a loose knot and shoved her feet into a well-worn pair of moccasins she'd bought from a Cheyenne Indian months before. Her trunks had come the week before, bringing a few more items of clothes, but most importantly, her books. She'd been working her way through Great Expectations again, despite having read it several times. She grabbed it now, pulled her robe around her, her gun belt slung over one shoulder, and headed back for the cabin.
JJ was already in bed when Emily knocked; a softly-called “come in” had her opening the door even as nerves danced through her stomach for reasons she wouldn’t admit. Emily made a point of bolting the door firmly when she shut it - checking it twice to make sure.
The oil lamps burned on each side of the bed. JJ leaned back against her pillows on the left side of the bed, a pair of Henry’s pants laid out in front of her as she started to stitch up a rather large tear in the knee. Emily crossed to the other side and slung her gun belt up over the bedpost, keeping the pistols within immediate reach. She purposefully kept her eyes off of JJ and the smooth expanse of her bare arms. Her robe tucked at the end of the bed, she climbed under the covers, settling in far-too easily beside the other woman.
Just read your damn book, she told herself once. And again.
She opened the pages and might as well have been staring at Sanskrit for all the sense they made.
“You make a habit of reading books upside down?”
The burning heat of a blush crept across Emily’s face. “Guess I’m distracted... from, uh... everything.”
“Hmm, I know.” No, Emily thought. You really have no idea... “You’re a fan of Mr. Dickens I see,” JJ smiled when Emily finally righted the book.
“I am. Have you read his work?”
“Mr. Rossi was kind enough to lend me his copy of Oliver Twist so that I could read it to the children at school. I’ve never read Great Expectations, though. He’s a wonderful author.”
“You can borrow it, if you’d like. I’ve read it before.”
“Oh, no - I couldn’t.”
“No, no, I insist-”
Emily had already closed the book and was on her way to pressing it into JJ’s hands when the other woman smiled, unexpectedly, a gleam in her eye. “You could read it aloud. That way, we can both enjoy it.”
Emily tried desperately for a reason to say no and couldn’t find one. “I... I could do that.” She flipped the pages back to the beginning of the book as JJ settled back against the pillows, still stitching Henry’s pants. She cleared her throat, suddenly nervous, and let her tongue dart out to moisten dry lips before she began. “‘My father's family name being Pirrip, and my Christian name Philip, my infant tongue could make of both names nothing longer or more explicit than Pip. So, I called myself Pip, and came to be called Pip...’”
And so it went, for more than an hour Emily read, eventually losing her nerves and letting the words flow freely as she read Dickens’ words. At times, she found herself slipping into an easy accent gleaned from years living among the British, patriot and ex-patriot alike.
She paused to turn the page and stopped altogether when a soft snore disturbed the silence. Glancing over, she found JJ fast asleep, Henry’s pants having been exchanged for knitting needles and the beginnings of a tightly woven blanket.
The smile that tugged at Emily’s lips was unabashedly foolish. Ridiculously sentimental. Still, she couldn’t fight it, and found easily enough she didn’t want to. It felt right, being here with JJ like this, listening to the soft whiffles of sound from Henry’s bed as he slumbered, watching his mother mirror his repose.
She wanted to curl against her, to bury her face against JJ’s neck and inhale the sweet smell of lilac and lavender that lingered everywhere the woman went. She wanted to close her eyes and forget everything that had come before; she wanted to start the day owning her land, a woman of her own making, with a lover of her choosing who wanted her back.
And that was what stopped her.
She might want JJ, but she had no idea what the other woman wanted, and to ask... No. She couldn’t risk it. Wouldn’t risk it. She’d finally found a place to settle, a place to put down roots where she felt accepted, as much as she ever felt like she could be accepted. So, no, she wouldn’t ask. She wouldn’t say anything.
She would run her ranch, and tend her cattle, and defend her land from whoever dared to try and desecrate it.
It would be enough. It had to be enough. After all, it was all she had.
*
The kettle started to whistle shrilly, something JJ barely noticed as she went about beating the rugs on the back porch, clearing them of a week’s worth of dust and dirt. In truth, she’d given the rug more than a needed thwacking simply to have something on which to focus her energies instead of letting her mind wander to places she knew it absolutely couldn’t go.
Like remembering the way she’d woken up that morning, warm, content, and safe - her arm tucked over Emily’s hip, spooned up behind the brunette. It was a small miracle JJ had woken up first and managed to extract herself from Emily’s side while the other woman slept on, but she’d paid a price, and hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it all day since.
It was only a few moments, nothing more, but JJ hadn’t felt that... content in longer than she cared to remember. Certainly not since Will died, and maybe, not even before then. But there was something about Emily Prentiss that made JJ feel protected; not that she needed protecting, but that for once, someone was actually looking out for her. She wasn’t in the middle of a hard-scramble life any more. Things were looking up.
And she was about to ruin it by literally cuddling up to her boss.
Whether or not Emily was the type of woman who wouldn’t mind a good cuddle from another woman was an entirely different matter, although town gossip implied she was just that type of woman. No, what mattered was that it was completely inappropriate, and JJ simply wouldn’t let... whatever was going on inside her interfere with a good, working business relationship.
The kettle continued to whistle. She got in one last good swat at the rug and hurried inside to move it off the stove. Her tea had just had a chance to steep when Emily’s familiar voice called to her outside. She poured herself a cup, and a cool cup of water for her boss, and went out to the front porch.
Emily tipped her hat back, gratefully accepting the water and guzzling half of it down. “Henry down for a nap?”
“Just woke up actually. He’s playing inside with his train.”
“Think he’ll keep for a few minutes?”
“Long as I don’t go too far from the house.”
“Just around the side of the barn,” Prentiss assured.
JJ checked on Henry again, content to find him happily building block cities and then driving his train through the middle of them only to rebuild once more. She assured him she’d be right back and then headed across the yard to the barn, finding Emily already waiting. Several yards out, she’d set up various pieces of scrap on top of crates at varying heights.
“If you’re bored, or somethin’, there’s plenty of things I can think of for you to do,” JJ smirked.
“Very funny,” the brunette responded dryly. In one swift move she pulled her left-side Peacemaker, spun it fluidly, and handed it over to JJ. “I’d like to see you shoot.”
“You’re kidding right?”
“I should’ve asked when I hired you. Honestly, it didn’t occur to me, but with everything that’s happened, I figured I should check.”
“I can shoot,” JJ assured her.
Prentiss eyed the gun in JJ’s hand. “Show me.”
JJ gave her a look, but Emily’s determined gaze didn’t waver. Reluctantly, JJ raised the pistol, took sight of the first piece of scrap wood on the left and fired off a shot.
The wood splintered into the air; a solid, perfect shot.
“Told you I can shoot.”
“Do it again,” Emily ordered, adding softly, “please.”
Rolling her eyes, JJ took aim at the next piece - a broken canning jar, and fired. The resulting shards of flying glass sparkled in the sunlight before landing on the ground with soft tinkles of sound.
“You’ve got a good eye. You could use some work on your grip though.” Emily stepped in behind JJ, her hand reaching out to cover the other woman’s, gently correcting the placement of the pistol against JJ’s palm. A soft inhale was the only betrayal JJ allowed herself, nerves fluttering inside her stomach inexplicably, and that warm, safe feeling from that morning once more returned, enveloping her. “You feel the difference,” Emily asked.
“It feels...” She swallowed once, settling herself. “I feel the difference.”
“Good. Now try squeezing the trigger a bit more, less of a snap. It’ll help with the recoil.”
With Emily’s hand covering her own, JJ squeezed the trigger slowly; the recoil of power travelling up her arm was nothing compared to the pounding of her heart.
The broken china plate exploded into a hundred tiny pieces as the bullet struck dead center.
Emily stepped back, smiling brightly. “You’re a quick study. Not that there was much you needed to be taught, mind you.”
“My daddy said it was important I learn when I was a girl. Never know when you might come up on a four-legged beast.”
“Or a two-legged one,” Emily muttered. “I saw you have a rifle in the corner. Maybe we should think about getting you a pistol too.”
“Another ‘business’ expense?” JJ inquired, her tone deceptively mild.
“A rifle will get you one shot, maybe two or three if you can reload fast enough. Pistol gets you six good shots. I like those odds a lot better.”
“I can buy my own gun.”
“Today?” Reluctantly, JJ shook her head. “We’ll go into town, see what Hotch has in the store. I’ll advance you the money for the pistol, and I’ll take a bit out of your wages until it’s paid off. Sound good?”
“It means that much to you?”
Something dark swept over Emily’s eyes. “I’ve found two dead women on my land. I’m in no mood to find a third.”
JJ found herself agreeing. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“What can you do with those pistols,” JJ asked, easing the moment with a smile.
Emily eyed the remaining bits of scarp she’d set up on the yard crates: a tin can, a broken tonic bottle, a piece of mirror no bigger than her palm. In the space of a breath she drew and fired, shattering the mirror and tonic bottle in rapid succession before putting a bullet into the tin can. When it popped into the air, she sent another bullet through it, and a third before it hit the ground. JJ walked over, nudging the bullet-riddled can to count the holes. “Where in the world did you learn to shoot like that?”
Prentiss grinned, quick and broad. “Finishing school.”
Part Eight