Author's Note: Hey, guys! This is the second Criminal Minds fanfiction and my first fic ever that's not a oneshot. I'm not sure where I got this idea, but I'm glad I did. There's going to be many more chapters. They'll vary in length ~ this one is about 1,500 words, but the next may be shorter or longer depending on where I decide my stopping point for the chapter should be. And I thought I should mention that the characters in this fic are probably more than a little bit OOC. You'll see in the later chapters that their characters have much more depth than they do on the show. In case you were wondering what prompted me to form their personalities this way, Emily is based heavily off of me and my real-life experiences and how I handle things. JJ is simply a character that I've written to suit Emily while still maintaining a level of imperfect humanity. After all, no one is perfect :) Everyone else in this book is written as close to the show-them as I can make them. I really hope you like this fanfiction! Please leave reviews, I love hearing from you! Have a good day/night!

~ Em

TRIGGER WARNING: This story contains self-harm as a prevalent theme, and there are mentions and possibly descriptions of suicide, as well. If you could be triggered by any of this, please do not read. The safety of my readers is my highest priority. If you would like me to list a potential trigger here that I didn't catch when you read the rest of this, or if you feel a scene is too graphic to not have a trigger warning in the corresponding chapter itself, please leave a review or PM me and let me know, and I'll fix it. Stay safe, everyone!

NOTE: There WILL be femslash in this story. Don't like, don't read.

I knew.

In some capacity, I think I've always known. Somehow, some way, the knowledge was there, buried under several thick layers of denial. All it took was one day and one case to unravel that denial. After that, there was no going back. I refused to stay oblivious. Not when I knew.

It was the fourth of February, ironically just a week before the anniversary of Rosaline's death. We had caught a case in Alabama, and I was getting ready to deliver it to the team in the conference room when the elevator dinged and Emily Prentiss walked into the bullpen, ten minutes late.

If it was anyone else, I wouldn't be suspicious. Everyone is allowed to have off days now and then, and everyone is allowed to occasionally be late. But it was Emily. And Emily is never late.

I jogged to catch up with her before she slipped into the conference room to join the others, and she gave me a wide smile when she saw me, and waited.

"Emily, are you alright?" I asked, a trifle breathlessly. Emily's eyes darted around nervously at my line of questioning. I noticed her fingers wrap protectively around her long sleeves.

"Yeah, Jayj, I'm fine," she replied. "I just got stuck in some traffic, that's all."

"Okay," I trailed off, making a mental note to pursue the matter later, when we weren't on a case. I held the door for her, and we entered the conference room together.

Hotch gave Emily a reprimanding look as she walked in, and she grimaced apologetically and said, "Traffic, sorry."

"It's alright, Prentiss. Just don't let it happen again."

"Yes, sir."

I stood and passed out case files to everyone before clicking the remote and filling the projector with the images that were, even for us, horrendous. I stared directly at my coworkers, refusing to acknowledge what was behind me. With the anniversary of Ros's death being so near, I didn't trust myself to keep my head looking at them.

"This is Tara Leakley, Jessica Burke, and Ashley Sanchez," I said, gesturing with the remote to each of the teenagers in question. "They were murdered last week within three days of each other."

"That's a hell of a cooling-off period," Morgan remarked. "This can't be his first time." The others nodded in agreement.

"They were all shot in the head at point-blank range, and their wrists and ankles show evidence of ligature marks," I continued. "The ME thinks that those scars and cuts all over their arms, thighs, and hips are from years of self-harm." I watched everyone's faces closely. Morgan, Hotch, and Rossi remained impassive, but Reid gave me a small, barely discernible sympathetic smile, remembering one night long ago when I had confessed to him that Ros had self-harmed for years leading up to her suicide. I returned it softly. Emily's eyes widened when she saw the girls, and now she chewed her lip nervously, the only sign that anything was wrong. I doubt the others in the room even picked up on it, it was so tiny. But years of knowing Emily Prentiss had taught me her small tells. No one is that good at compartmentalizing.

"Well, this certainly puts a twist on things," Rossi commented, always the one to break the silence in a witty way.

"Wait, how are we sure that these are murders and these girls didn't just kill themselves?" Morgan asked.

"Well, there's the identical ligature marks on all of the bodies, for starters," I replied, but Morgan didn't seem impressed, so I continued, "and Ashley Sanchez was left-handed, so it's extremely unlikely that she shot herself in the right side of her head on purpose."

Satisfied, Morgan nodded in response to my explanation.

"With three victims killed in a six-day span, we could be looking at the start of a spree here," Hotch stated, "so we'd better get on this as soon as possible. Wheels up in 30." The team dissipated from the conference room to get ready. I clicked off the projector and gathered my own set of the case files before following them down to the bullpen to grab my go-bag and notify the sheriff of the Birmingham police department that we were on our way.

When we were all seated and the jet began to make its ascent, I looked up from my phone for a minute to take notice of everyone's different positions. Morgan was sprawled comfortably in a seat near the cockpit with his eyes closed and his headphones on. Hotch and Rossi sat across from each other near the front, discussing something quietly over their morning cups of coffee. Reid had immediately claimed the couch near the back of the jet to grab a couple more hours of sleep before the case and was now providing some calming background noise with his snoring. Lastly, Emily sat in the seat closest to the bathroom, at the back of the plane, absorbed in the book she was reading.

Satisfied that she was okay for now, I turned my attention back to my phone and the online book I'd been reading for the past few days.

Before I knew it, I'd read seven chapters and the jet was beginning to land in Birmingham. Out of some strange sense of protectiveness, I again looked around the plane for each of my team members. Morgan had removed his headphones and was now sitting up and leaning towards Hotch and Rossi, clearly expecting to be given an assignment soon. Reid was still sleeping, and Emily - Emily was nowhere to be found. I frowned deeply. Just before I could voice my concern to the others, she appeared from the bathroom, wiping her hands on her blazer. She offered me a warm smile when she caught me looking, and I returned it weakly. Something didn't feel right.

I brushed it off and walked over to the couch, shaking Reid awake gently. He sat up and yawned, blinking the blurriness out of his eyes. I smiled fondly at him and handed him his case files, which were on the floor next to him. He gave me a grateful smile in response and moved to join the rest of us, who had simultaneously clambered around Hotch for our usual sharing of opinions before we landed.

"Alright, let's go over victimology," Hotch began.

"So far the only thing that connects these victims is their self-inflicted injuries," Morgan pointed out. "Tara Leakley was black, so race doesn't matter to him. Appearance doesn't seem to, either, since all the girls had different hair and eye colours."

"Could gender be a factor?" Reid asked curiously.

"Maybe," Hotch replied. "It's too early to tell."

"How old were they?" Rossi asked. I peered down at my case files.

"Ashley Sanchez was fifteen, Tara Leakley sixteen, and Jessica Burke fourteen," I replied.

"I don't think specific age has anything to do with it, but it looks like he's targeting teenagers," Emily spoke up for the first time. Her eyes were clouded with an emotion that I couldn't discern, but her business-like manner was as crisp and professional as always. None of the other team members seemed to notice anything off about her at all.

"That could just be because teenagers have a higher rate of self-injury, though," Reid pointed out.

Emily's eyes flashed for a brief second. If I hadn't been staring at her already, I would have missed it. "There are plenty of adults who self-harm, too," she said, a hint of bitter anger in her voice. The rest of the team noticed this, too, but elected not to say anything.

"Of course," Reid replied, sensing that something was up and quickly backing down. "I didn't mean to insinuate that there aren't. I'm sorry, Emily." He looked so contrite that Emily's features softened immediately, guilt flashing in her coffee-coloured eyes.

"No need to be sorry, Reid. You were just making a point." She smiled at him softly, and he returned it, too happy that she wasn't angry with him.

"Alright," Hotch said, noticing that the jet had come to a stop, "Dave, you and Morgan go to the park where the latest victim was found. Reid, you and I are going to run point at the station and start working up a geographical profile. Prentiss, I want you and JJ to talk to the victims' families."

We all scattered after Hotch finished speaking to retrieve our things and exit the plane. Soon after, we split up to tackle our various assignments. Emily held her hand out for the keys to the SUV. I rolled my eyes at her. "You've got such a control complex," I teased. "What if I wanted to drive for once?"

Emily groaned, a smile lighting up her sharp features at my playfulness. "Oh, come on, Jayj. We both know you hate driving."

I shrugged nonchalantly. "This is true." I tossed her the keys, but the smile left my face in a hurry when she caught them and they hit the side of her arm. Though the keys weren't nearly heavy enough to hurt, Emily winced visibly. I swallowed hard and tried to put the thought aside for later. I needed to focus on this case.