JJ had never been much of a fan of whiskey, usually preferring tequila or vodka when it came to straight liqueur, but she felt just a bit closer to the mysterious brunette sharing the same drink-the same burn in her throat. They were now both sitting on the piano bench. JJ was intently watching Emily's profile as the older woman lightly caressed the keys, not pushing hard enough to make a sound. JJ started slightly when Emily began speaking, still looking at the rows of black and white,

"We never talked about it. We played scrabble and shared emails, but we never talked about the present. We ignored the mess, the darkness, the loneliness, the guilt. We talked about music, movies, memories, etc... not what was happening in our lives. And as profilers we can easily tell why," she paused both in speech and in her traversing of the keys. She seemed to be rolling the next words over and over in her mouth, deciding whether to let them out,

"We didn't know how to deal with it. The fact that I was officially dead, to the world and to almost everyone that mattered to me. Only you and Hotch bore the truth. And it was obvious that you were not bearing the secret well. I bet leaving made the guilt easier, which of course would spurn a new type of guilt." The brunette's eyes darted quickly up to meet JJ's own, looking for something in their azure depths. Before JJ could gather what it was she was seeking, she continued on,

"I'd lost everything. Everyone. I was back to looking over my shoulder and distrusting every shadow. It was exhausting. You left me in Paris; I went to a town in the south, Roanne. I worked in a boulangerie," she paused, as she must have noticed JJ's slightly confused expression, "I made bread. The boulangerie was only a few blocks from the neighborhood where I was renting a house. It was slow. Nice. I'd wake up, have some tea, yogurt and fruit."

For the first time since they sat down, JJ spoke or rather scoffed,"Tea?" Emily shrugged and gave one of those crooked self-deprecating smiles JJ had grown to love, "I gave up coffee."

"Really? You?"

She stuck out her tongue, "As I was saying, slow. I could walk to and from work. I only needed to use my little diesel car to go to Carrefour or to do something downtown. I kind of had a life for the first time in awhile." Pausing, her smile turned slightly bitter as she took a drink,

"Funny that I had to die in order to finally get a life. I even tried dating a little, but every time they said a name other than my own I felt like I was on a mission and they were a mark... no longer on a date and definitely no longer in the mood. Instead I ended up spending a lot of time with the old woman that owned the boulangerie. She was a fascinating woman." JJ fought the churning in her stomach, and tried to ignore her inkling that it was jealousy. Will had women hitting on him all the time, but it took Emily finding another woman fascinating to spur that little green-eyed monster inside.

"She had lived all over the world. Born in Brazil she ran away from her abusive father when she was 14. She was working as a waitress in Cancun, when she fell in love with a Frenchman on vacation. He ended up staying for 11 months longer than his two-week plans in order to court her. She married him and they moved to Saint-Étienne. Her husband was a socialist peace advocate that traveled around the world trying to defend injustices. She's why I took up the piano again."

"How..."

"Hush and take a drink. You haven't touched it. I'm getting to that." Properly scolded, JJ raised the glass to her lips and relished the fire that descended down her throat. The fire became too much and she found herself, to her utter embarrassment, in a coughing fit. That is, until the brunette at her side decided that the proper course of action was to rub soothing circles up and down her back. The burn was replaced with a shiver as slender, agile fingers brushed blond locks away from the nape of her neck, smoothing them down her shoulder blades.

Emily's smile was something to behold. This smile was light, playful, the kind of thing she'd dream of waking up to. "I had a feeling you weren't the whiskey type." Now it was JJ's turn to shrug, caught. Emily's smile merely widened as she continued her story, to JJ's delight without removing her hand that now played with the little hairs on the nape of her neck.

"Anyway, She had a piano by the counters. One night over too much wine I let slip that I played growing up. She insisted I play. After I was assured that I remembered enough not to make a complete fool of myself, I began playing during open hours. I'd play the piano for a couple hours a day. I do believe the music drew in a number of people that hadn't previously intended on purchasing bread."

"I'm not..." Emily's fingernails scratched down ever so lightly, "surprised." If she noticed the hesitation, she didn't let on, "would you like me to play you something? As I see neither of us are ready for bed." JJ simply nodded not trusting her voice.

"What would you like to hear?" The warm fingers receded, and JJ's mind cleared,

"You were already playing my favourite." Emily bumped shoulders with her,

"Moonlight Sonata? Well than I shall play it again with you in mind." JJ took another swig of whiskey,

"I'd like that."