Stalker

Chapter One

It started so quietly, so unobtrusively, that it almost didn't seem real.

JJ dropped her purse by a teething ring and fell onto the couch with a pile of mail in her lap, drinking in the silence and considering a glass of wine, cherishing the thought of a weekend to herself.

Then, flipping through bills and an anniversary card from an aunt who never quite understood that she wasn't, in fact, married, she came upon an envelope that was unusually large, unusually stiff.

There was no postmark.

That was odd.

And she was still for several seconds.

Because in her line of work, this was never a good thing.

It could have been from a neighbour. A party invitation or something.

But she knew, instinctively, that it wasn't.

Maybe it was paranoia more than instinct.

All the same, she sat in silence a while longer, mourning (perhaps prematurely) her lost weekend.

Finally, when her stomach growled and she realized the room was growing dark, she tore the edge of the envelope and let the contents tumble out onto her coffee table.

It wasn't any better or worse than she'd imagined.

Just a picture, black and white.

Herself.

A random moment.

Making her way down the street, cell phone to her ear.

It was close-up enough that someone out there had a hell of a telephoto lens.

On the back, someone – she was already thinking of it as 'him' – he had hand written the word 'sweetheart', followed by what was ostensibly the date the photo was taken.

There was a feeling of uncomfortable warmth in her chest and she realized her heart had jolted to a faster beat.

She sat still and silent for another long moment.

Mourning, this time, the feeling of safety.

Most people took it for granted.

She didn't.

And she recognized, now, that it was gone.

She could feel the darkness closing in on her, and panic threatened as she strained her ears and listened and wondered if it was possible that there was someone in her home.

She grabbed her keys and the photo and moved for the door, trying desperately to block images from her mind.

Young women who had received an envelope like this, followed by another, and another.

Followed, then, by an assault of some kind.

It was just a picture, just a photograph.

She checked her back seat before getting into her car.

…

"What's wrong?" Emily questioned, foregoing even a 'hello'.

JJ handed her the envelope, followed her into the apartment.

Emily stopped cold in the middle of her kitchen when she'd slid the photograph out.

"It was in my mail when I got home today," JJ told her.

Worry creased Emily's forehead, and she flipped the photo over, scanned the writing on the back.

"There was no postmark," JJ added.

And Emily looked up at her, silent for a moment, before, finally:

"Damn."

"Yeah."

"Let's sit down."

They did, and Emily looked the photo over again.

"We should call Hotch. We should call in a team, get this fingerprinted. But I think first we should call Hotch."

"Is this…" JJ started, feeling silly, but needing to ask. "Is this… ever… nothing?"

Emily's silence was enough of an answer, but after a moment she actually admitted:

"It's probably not."

"I knew that," JJ confessed.

"I know," Emily told her quietly, and she rubbed her shoulder as she moved for the phone.

…

Twenty minutes later, Hotch arrived at the apartment.

Five minutes after that, he stopped studying the photograph and started questioning her.

"Do you remember when this was? What you were doing? Whether there was anything that seemed out of the ordinary?"

"I can't. I don't. I've been trying. I don't know, I was probably picking up groceries or dry cleaning…"

"Has there been anything strange in recent weeks? Phone calls or emails?"

"Even just a feeling that someone might have been watching you?" Emily threw in.

"Nothing," she told them, and it felt like she was letting them down. "Look, I know these questions. I wish I had something to tell you. But it's just this."

"And you don't recognize the handwriting?"

She shook her head 'no'.

"Where's Will? And Henry?" Hotch questioned. "Where are they tonight?"

"On a plane. Heading to New Orleans. We were supposed to take a trip together, take Henry down there for a week to introduce him to Will's family and friends. Will got sick of waiting for me to have the time."

Hotch nodded – probably remembering that he already knew most of this. And he told her:

"I think you should have this fingerprinted. I think you should let Morgan take a look at the photo, and Reid, the handwriting. Garcia might also be able to pull up any traffic cameras or nearby store surveillance on this date. Will you let me organize that for you?"

She thought it over, told him:

"Wait until Monday. Don't take away their weekend for me."

"JJ…" He didn't like that. "We get called in all the time --"

"Not for me and a photograph."

He was quiet for a moment, but he seemed to accept that. Then:

"I also think you shouldn't stay at home alone tonight."

"I've got a guest room," Emily offered.

"Good," Hotch agreed.

And that much seemed to be settled, with or without JJ's input.

She was trailing Hotch to Emily's door when he turned back, and seemed to be considering something.

"What?" JJ prompted.

"He doesn't want to scare you but he wants you to be careful," Emily filled in, and Hotch didn't try to correct her.

"Until we know more," he said instead, "I think it would be best for you to avoid going anywhere by yourself." Taking in her reaction to that, he added: "I know it's inconvenient. And…" He sighed. "It's a loss of independence. But we've all seen how these things can escalate. JJ, for my own piece of mind?" It was a request, and she nodded.

"Okay. I promise. For now."

She didn't miss the look that passed between Hotch and Emily before he left – the one that said 'keep an eye on her'.

All this, over a photograph.

Some lives they were leading.

She didn't argue when Emily suggested they both have a glass of wine.

…

She'd been staring out Emily's window at the incredible view for longer than she knew when Emily stepped up beside her, and noted:

"Sometimes looking out that window only makes me think too much."

JJ tore her gaze away, faced Emily. And Emily asked:

"Are you going to call Will?"

"I don't know. Not tonight. He'd want to know, but I feel better knowing they're safe somewhere else."

"What about Garcia?" Emily wanted to know.

And JJ remembered – they had plans tomorrow. Getting a start on their Christmas shopping.

"We'll tell her tomorrow."

"You still want to shop?"

She thought it over for only a moment, before deciding she wasn't giving up any more of this weekend they'd planned.

"Yeah."

They fell into silence again, and JJ kind of hated that.

It was all so damn tense and ominous.

"All those pictures you're seeing out there, they're not going to be you," Emily spoke up. "The acid burns and bullet wounds --"

"And broken necks and rape exams and --"

"JJ," Emily cut her off sharply. "That's not going to be you."

"Anybody else came to law enforcement with just a photograph, we'd tell them there was next to nothing we could do."

"And so this is going to be different. It's not going to be you because we're going to be on this."

"These things can go on for years."

Emily said nothing in response, and JJ turned to look at her again. Waited to see if she'd try to disagree.

Finally, Emily said:

"We're not going anywhere."

The devotion in her eyes was too much.

JJ could feel tears well up.

And when she tried to laugh at herself, Emily reached for her hand.

"It's a photograph!!" she all but yelled with a forced chuckle.

"JJ," Emily said quietly, drawing her attention.

And then she reached out and wrapped JJ up in a hug.

"It's not going to be you," Emily told her again.

And JJ wondered if she was giving away too much of her fear when she squeezed her back.

"It's not going to be you."

…