Author's Note: Hey, guys. I am so incredibly sorry for the lack of updates. I'm so bad at writing the middle of my stories. I can do beginnings well. I can do endings just fine. But middles? Apparently, they're my kryptonite. I'm trying my best, but my inspiration has gotten so low. I'm not giving up, though! I really like this story and I definitely want to see it through to the end. That being said, please have patience with me as I try to figure out how to write this. And if anyone has any ideas or suggestions for it, please feel free to send them my way! (I'll credit you, of course.) I could sure use some. So, yeah. Here's the next chapter of I Knew! I really hope you like this! Please leave reviews if you want to, I love hearing what you guys think! And as always, I hope you have a wonderful day/night!

~ Em

When we arrived back at Quantico, I expected Emily to come straight to me. She was usually never one to delay the inevitable. However, she was the first person off the jet and in the bullpen, and she immediately reached for her stack of paperwork. My heart fell, and I sighed softly. Clearly, she wasn't any more willing to talk now than she was on the plane.

Before I returned to my office and my own monstrously large pile of work, I shot her a quick text.

JJ: Em, please come to my office when you're finished. You know we need to talk.

EP: Okay.

It wasn't the answer I was hoping for, but it was something. I set my phone down, reached for a pen, and reluctantly got to work.

It was about six o'clock when Morgan threw down the last of his paperwork and shouted, "I'm out of here! Come on, baby girl." I smiled as he and Garcia walked triumphantly out of the bullpen. Their arms were linked and they were giggling like teenagers. I couldn't help but roll my eyes and smile fondly at the pair. Reid followed soon after, the second to finish despite Morgan passing off half of his workload to the young genius. He surreptitiously slipped some of Emily's files into his own stack when she wasn't looking, too, and it never ceased to amaze me how he could work that fast. I saw Hotch leave, too, with a quick word that looked something like, "You should go home, Prentiss," to Emily.

She chose that exact moment to look up and meet my eyes. I blushed, uncomfortable with being caught staring. I tapped my watch, and she nodded, catching the hint. I turned my attention back to my paperwork, trying to force myself to focus on it until Emily was ready to talk.

Within half an hour, I heard a soft sound like a throat being cleared and looked up to see Emily in the doorway to my office. She was leaning casually against the doorframe, but the way her eyes darted around the room gave away her anxiety. I gestured to the chair in front of my desk, silently inviting her to sit. She did. I folded my arms on top of my desk, waiting for her to say something. Instead, she played with her hands in her lap, occasionally digging her fingernail into the skin in what had to be a painful movement. I opened my mouth, about to call her out on it, when some unprecedented insight came to me.

I suddenly realised what the situation must look like to her - me behind the desk, her in the chair opposite me. I felt shame rise in my throat. Emily must have felt like a troublesome subordinate, not someone I love, someone I wanted to have a mature, adult conversation with.

With that in my mind, I lifted - not dragged - my chair over to her and settled myself beside her. I picked up one of her hands and wrapped it in my own, giving it an encouraging squeeze. She refused to meet my eyes. I waited patiently.

Eventually, Emily took a deep breath, and said, "I'm sorry, JJ." She didn't lift her head when she spoke.

"It's okay, Em," I replied, placing a light kiss to her knuckles. "You don't have anything to apologise for."

"I do, though," she said, her eyes still trained on her lap. "I told you I was going to tell you when I felt like hurting myself, and I didn't. I understand if you're angry with me."

"I'm not mad at you," I hastened to assure her. "And you told me that you would try to tell me when you felt like cutting. I didn't expect you to do it the first time you felt the urge, Em."

"You also didn't expect the first time to be today," she accused me.

I sighed. As usual, Emily was spot-on. "No, I didn't," I admitted, "but that doesn't mean I'm any less proud of you."

Emily scoffed. "What exactly could you possibly be proud of me for, JJ?"

I hesitated, considering my answer. She was doing her best to push me away and keep some semblance of emotional distance between us. It had to be the right thing to say, or there was no way she would believe me. Eventually, I said, "For letting me stay. Last night, you wouldn't let me in the bathroom while you cleaned your cuts. But today, you let me stay."

Emily chuckled lightly. "What if I told you it was only because I was afraid you were going to have a heart attack out there?"

I kissed her knuckles again. "I'd still be grateful."

A few moment's silence invaded us. I had absolutely no clue what to say. There were things I'd swore I would say to someone in Ros's position, should I ever come across one of them. After her death, I was unable to stop going over all of the things that I wished I said to her before it was too late. But Emily wasn't Ros; they were two very different people. Ros was open, as open as someone with depression and suicidal thoughts could be.

Emily, on the other hand, was a private person if I'd ever seen one. I knew that even letting me in the vicinity of her cuts was the most she'd ever trusted another person before. I wasn't sure what to do with that. I wasn't sure how far I could push her before her walls went up again and she shut me out.

Luckily enough for me, though, I didn't have to say anything. Emily spoke again, her voice a tremulous murmur this time.

"JJ, I...do you know what depression is?"

I looked at her, bewildered. "Of course I do, Em."

"Well, that's...I mean, I...depression is something I suffer from."

I wasn't sure where she was going with this at all. "I-I figured that, Emily."

"Well, sometimes depression makes it hard for me to feel...okay." I waited for her to say more, but she clamped her lips together and avoided my gaze.

"If you feel that way, you know...I mean, you know you can talk to me, right? O-Or somebody." I paused, chewing my bottom lip. "You can always talk to me."

Emily shook her head. "No. No, I can't." She said it firmly, as though it were a fact.

I took both of her hands in my own and squeezed tightly. "Yes, you can. With me, you can."

She didn't say anything, and dropped her gaze to her lap once again.

I felt myself deflate. I wasn't sure how or why, but somehow I knew I'd lost that battle.

I asked, "Do you still feel the way you felt on the plane?"

Emily looked like she didn't want to answer. "Yes," she said simply.

"Maybe you should stay with me tonight," I ventured carefully. "I have a guest bed - " I was cut off by Emily, who lifted her head to glare at me.

"I don't appreciate you insinuating that I can't take care of myself," she snapped.

"Well, maybe because you can't!" I snapped back, and immediately regretted it.

Emily stood up and tugged her hands from my own. "I am an adult, and what I do to cope with my personal problems is nobody else's business!" Though the anger was definitely still there, I heard a note of desperation in her voice. She was begging in her own way, pleading with me to trust her.

I softened my tone. "It is my business," I insisted gently but firmly, "because I'm your best friend, your girlfriend, and I love you, Emily." After a few second's pause, I added, "And I don't want you hurting yourself!" My voice cracked on the last syllable, and I felt tears fill my eyes.

Emily's gaze immediately softened, and she took a step forward, reaching out for me. I welcomed her embrace, burying my face into her chest.

"This is why I don't tell people," Emily said after a few minutes, her voice thick. "It upsets them so much."

I pulled back to look at her. "Of course it upsets people, Emily. We care about you!"

She shook her head. Her eyes were full of some emotion I couldn't identify. I barely heard the whisper that followed. "You shouldn't."

"Emily," I began. I cupped her face in my palms, forcing her to look into my cerulean eyes that I hoped would be able to convey my sincerity. "You are one hell of a woman. You're fucking amazing, really. In the field, I've never seen someone so good at their job. You're the one that Hotch sends the new recruits to shadow, you know. When you're not in the field, you're a wonderful friend. You hug Garcia and let her sob all over you when she sees something on the screens she can't forget. You take Morgan out for drinks and dancing and get him comfortable enough to tell you what's on his mind. You calm Reid down from a full-blown panic attack when he wakes up on the jet with nightmares. You sit and drink with Rossi for hours until he opens up to you. And you, Emily Prentiss, are the only person in this world that can convince the great Aaron Hotchner to take a break. And me? There are so, so many things that you do for me. You take care of other people, Emily. It's basically your second job." I added a wry smile after my last sentence, and I was rewarded with a slight twitch upwards of Emily's lips in return.

"You do all of that for others, because you care. And we care about you, too, Emily. So why won't you let anyone else help you the way you help them?"

Emily leaned her forehead against mine and closed her eyes. "Because I don't deserve it, JJ."

"Yes, you do," I replied firmly. "Look at me, Emily." She opened her eyes.

"Do you know why you deserve it?"

She shook her head.

I lined myself up with her lips and responded, "Because you - "

Kiss.

"Are."

Kiss.

"Amazing."

Emily laughed slightly at my antics and pressed a soft kiss to my temple. "I wish I could believe you."

"You will," I promised her. "Someday, you will."