"You can't keep doing this Emily." His voice sounded muffled to the brunette. The adrenaline rush was still dominating her body and as much as she knew she should try and focus on his words, to really try and grasp what he was saying, she just couldn't. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, the worry and protectiveness in his tone registered but at this point, she was flying too high to really care or do anything other than just take note. "I need to know that you can do your job and not put everyone's life at risk because you need to feel alive."

The more he reprimanded her, the less buzzing she heard and the more sober she became. Out of pure instinct, or maybe just habit at this point, her hand moved up to rub at her chest. Just before it could make contact with the flesh above her heart, she realized what she was doing and dropped her hand as though she had been burned. "I'm doing my job so stop acting like I'm a fucking bomb that's about to go off," the woman snarled, her rush quickly giving way to anger.

"You and I both know that this stopped being about the job awhile back." His words were gentle, like they always were, but the stern no-nonsense undertone made her bite her tongue. As if the perpetually constant reprimands weren't bad enough, his eyes flickered to her chest, where her hand had hovered just seconds ago, before flickering back to her clouded brown eyes. "I appreciate everything you've done for me," his blue eyes bore into hers, "for this team, but I can't have a loose cannon on assignments. I need to know that all my agents will look out for one another and do the right thing, not just rush in blindly because they've become adrenaline junkies."

Emily's eyes skittered away from his, suddenly finding it hard to maintain eye contact. "Clyde," she started, but when their eyes finally met, the words died on her tongue. He was right and Emily wasn't even going to bother trying to deny it or attempt to lie to herself. Since her undercover work with Doyle and his subsequent escape that landed her a six month stint in the hospital, three flatlines, a clover shaped brand above her heart and a jagged stake-shaped scar across her abdomen, she hadn't quite been the same.

Emily Prentiss was stoic and guarded. Her mother only seemed to remember she even had a daughter when her presence was needed at a gala or some equally stuffy and monotonous political event. So, in a lot of ways, Emily was alone. It explained her need to distance everyone, her need to erect a fortress around her heart and pretend like she didn't need anyone in her life. Because up until her second encounter with Doyle, she had truly believed that she didn't need anyone. She had learned quickly from her mother that when you try to keep people close, they only end up disappointing you in the end, which was a lesson learned at the ripe old age of seven. In so many ways her mother was as much a disappointment to her and she assumed she was to her mother.

But then Doyle happened and he flipped everything upside down and made her question every single decision and moment of solitude. Lying on the floor wallowing in her own blood, a piece of wood protruding from her stomach, a searing brand on her chest and she found nothing flashing before her eyes. There were no happy memories, no moments to reflect back on; just a lot of regret and loneliness.

Her existence was almost like a delusion; something dreamt up by a lonely and crazed mind.

Emily had no significant others. She hadn't talked to her mother in almost five years and even then, their last form of contact was an invitation she had received in the mail (though the contact wasn't direct, if Emily didn't count that then it would have brought the counter up to eight or nine years since they actually talked).

While the blood leaked from her wound, her heart ached and the walls she had fought to keep wrapped around her started to crumble and the debris wreaked havoc on her mind and soul. In her attempt to keep any pain from touching her, she had cut herself off from the world and it made all of the good she had fought tooth and nail to do seem like insignificant and empty gestures.

Somewhere out there, people were living because she had personally put an end to an arms dealer, had put away countless murderers, protected families and given intended victims a shot at a future. But when she was lying on that cold cement floor, she didn't see that. She saw herself—utterly alone. No happiness, no friends, no family, no…nothing.

So when she got back to work, instead of trying to get those things she took the approved Emily Prentiss method and just tried to feel something. At first, it was just going to the gun range and getting that wonderfully exhilarating rush from firing a gun. That quickly fizzled away though and she was left drinking and fighting, but mostly drinking enough to fight drunks at whatever the bar of the night was. When that stopped working, she started taking more risks at work. Maybe she ignored a command or pretended like the connection had gone out so she could justify rushing in to a building just a few seconds sooner than planned. That method never seemed to fail. The bullets rushing by her head, the delicious pain when one grazed her arm and sent her tumbling head first into an adrenaline rush fueled haze. Her hand gripping her gun and firing at one person, then another, then another; until she stood among the bodies and let the smell of gun powder and sweat envelop and overtake her senses.

But the look in Clyde's eyes, the fear and disappointment that permeated not only his eyes but her teammates' eyes as well had her sobering up in an instant and regretting the need for the rush.

"I've lined up a job for you at the FBI but before you take it, I need to know that you can handle it, that you can do it without endangering everyone around you. I wish I could help you Emily," his hand shot out and gingerly cupped her cheek, the sorrow and guilt in his eyes clearly evident as he continued to run his thumb over her cheek bone. "I wish I could go back and make it so none of it ever happened. That we got there a few minutes earlier, that we found you faster, that he never got away in the first place," his brow furrowed but the familiar caring movement of his thumb never ceased.

"You couldn't have known," Emily muttered after a moment, knowing that he carried an unjustified amount of guilt. He was the closest thing to a friend Emily had ever had and the look in his eyes, the haunted look in his blue eyes that screamed the amount of doubt and guilt that riddled him every time she messed up nearly caused her knees to buckle. "But you're right," she said quietly, the sad realization of her downward spiral slowly sinking in. "I can't keep doing this job and I can't keep doing the things I've been doing." Her head shook sadly as she resigned herself to a fate she had seen coming since she first woke up in the hospital, "I don't know how to fix this but I can't do this job and get better."

Emily took a step back, distancing herself from Clyde, his hand to dropping from her face. "Doyle took something from me and I don't know how to get it back." Her pale hand rubbed at the scar above her heart, a permanent reminder of the man who broke her down. "Maybe I never will," she muttered darkly before taking another step back, her eyes only meeting his for a second before she turned around and started walking away.

"You'll find it, Emily." Clyde shouted after her, his voice laced in a confidence that Emily couldn't quite grasp. "You're Emily Prentiss and you're too damn stubborn to give up or even think of letting that bastard get the best of you."

His words wound themselves around her and offered a comfort she didn't think she deserved. The affirmation of the person she once was and could be again slowly oozing through the cracks in her foundation and subtly mending the breaks in her downtrodden spirit.

"When you're ready," he remarked quietly behind her, not wanting to believe his friend and colleague too far gone. Darkness wound its way into their hearts and could easily overtake them and he just hoped that Emily could find her way out of it and back into the light; because if anyone was strong enough to come out of this on top, it was Emily Prentiss.

Emily walked though the desolate D.C. streets that night, her eyes scanning the street for nothing in particular. In some part of her mind, she hoped that her walk would give her some sign of absolution or in the very least, some semblance of peace.

Off in the distance, she could hear church bells chiming on the hour and had she not already been given the cold shoulder by religion, she would have sought her peace there. But as it stood, she had nowhere to go, no place to be and no idea of how to find the person she once was.

Her feet slowly shuffled down the sidewalk, her eyes always looking for something but not quite knowing what that something was.

The plan she was quickly devising in her head was simple and to the point but even Emily was smart enough to know that just because it seemed easy didn't quite mean it would be.

Her wounds had healed a long time ago, at least the physical ones, but the emotional ones, the mental ones; those were still open and bleeding out. Doyle had torn her apart and somehow, he was still infecting her and breaking her down from the inside out.

The rubble from her broken mental walls still clung to her insides and sent waves of nausea rippling through her suddenly weary body.

Emily Prentiss was a person who was proud of the person she was, or had been. No one knew her; she didn't have friends, but when she did her job she was left feeling satisfied enough to make up for those gaping holes in the other areas of her life. But now that she had been torn up from the inside out and left on the brink of death, that satisfaction didn't seem like enough.

The blank spots in her life didn't seem to be blanketed by the good of her job anymore, and now, they only stood to remind her of all the things she didn't have. All the things she had given up, or, if she were to be honest with herself, too afraid to reach out and grab.

Emily knew her life needed some sort of reset, a chance to figure out who the hell she was and rebuild from there.

The damage had been done and if there was ever a time for a complete overhaul, now was probably it.

But the problem with that plan was how would she go back to who she was when she had never really had a clue to begin with? Her mother would be of no use and could provide only a skewed and manipulated impression of who Emily Prentiss truly was.

The brunette's head was going in circles by the time another church tower chimed in the distance and she found herself stopping at an all too familiar establishment; unable to resist the temptation of relief the establishments always afforded her. Despite the disappointment she felt on the inside, Emily held her head high and walked into the bar with purpose.

She knew trying to drink her pain away was a mistake and an obvious cop out, but reality was wearing her down and the thoughts that had just been plaguing her were only serving to drag her further down into the dumps.

Emily guzzled down her scotch, relishing in the warmth that rushed through her blood. Drinking probably wasn't the best move for her, especially with everything she had going on, but it was one of the only ways she knew how to dull her thoughts.

Her index and middle finger tapped against the wooden bar top, signaling her need for a refill. While she waited, rather impatiently for another serving, her brown eyes scanned the full bar. The bar itself was nothing noteworthy, just a hole-in-the-wall place that practically begged for its patrons to be regulars. It had a warmth and level of comfort that Emily hadn't encountered often on her many visits to various the bars.

Her fingers wrapped around the freshly filled glass of scotch, the slight buzz of alcohol stifling the flow of thoughts running impetuously through her normally overactive mind.

No sooner had she thrown back the amber liquid did a burly man sidle up beside her, his face twisted in what Emily supposed was meant to be a disarming smile. "Buy you a drink?" He asked, the dark look in his eyes instantly setting off warning bells in Emily's head.

"No thanks," she replied tersely, turning away from the man in case he didn't catch the hint.

By the way his hand slammed a twenty dollar bill on the bar top, his face hovering precariously close to Emily's ear; she surmised that he had not, in fact, gotten the hint.

"Look, I'm not interested," Emily said offhandedly, her eyes focused on the man through the mirror in front of her, despite her body language showing that she was paying no attention to him; hoping the obvious disinterest would deter any further moves on his part.

"Sweetie, a drink ain't gonna kill ya," his hand briefly swiped across her stiffened back before dropping to his side as he settled himself on the seat beside her. "Besides, might help loosen ya up," he tried to whisper seductively, only managing to make the words sound like a strangled comment.

"Well, sweetie," Emily said derisively, "I'm not interested in loosening any part of my anatomy near you so why don't you take your outdated pickup lines and find someone a little more receptive to them."

Without waiting for a response, Emily stood up from her seat, dropped a fifty to cover her drinks and tip, and walked out the back door of the bar. Her eye twitching with annoyance and the stirrings of alcohol induced anger.

The second she started to get her feelings under control and cram them back into the boxes they belonged in, a large looming figure stepped out from the doorway. Instantly, Emily recognized him.

The man from the bar stood just a few feet in front of her, a wide and chilling smile spread across his face, his angry eyes staring intently at her.

"Get rejected from everyone else in the bar, already? Must be a record," Emily asked snidely, the small voice in the back of her mind telling her that saying the first thing that popped into her head probably wasn't the wisest of ideas, especially when both her and the menacing man before her were pretty drunk.

He took another step forward, his hands clenching at his sides. "I ain't one to give up easily once I set my sights on somethin'." He smiled wider, putting Emily further on edge.

"You should learn when to cut your losses then, because you're just not my type. Sorry." Emily smiled unapologetically at him, her smirk firmly in place as she stared him down; unwilling to show any form of intimidation.

"I'm every woman's type, sugar." He muttered darkly, his hand running through his greasy hair and slicking it back. "So you sayin' you ain't a woman?" He challenged, stepping just a smidge closer, probably thinking his jab at her gender or sexuality would make her feel the need to prove herself.

It was the wrong tactic to employ as Emily just shrugged it off.

"Not every woman's type," Emily said easily, her eyes flashing with a taunting glint, "although you do have the right breast size, I prefer mine to have less facial hair and nothing dangling between their legs." For added measure, Emily winked and smiled wider, "If ya catch my drift, sugar."

His smile disappeared almost instantly, a scowl forming on his face as he began to menacingly move closer to her. "Shoulda known," he spit venomously, "but that's alright, I love me a challenge. One night with me and you'll be fixed right up."

"It's not something to be fixed." She said with unrestrained disgust towards the man before her, already anticipating a fight.

"You say that now, but you'll be singin' a different tune in a little while," without warning he leapt towards Emily, his hand making a swipe for her shoulders and just narrowly missing her.

Emily sidestepped his hand, her eyes trained on his large figure, mentally sizing him up and thinking of a hundred ways to beat him into the ground; it was one of the few times her need to over analyze things came in handy.

Standing there, her mind rushing, the sounds of the bar were at the same time, all too loud and far too quiet. 'The adrenaline rush, no doubt,' she thought to herself, all too familiar with the way things seemed to amplify and dull all at the same time. Her vision tunneled so the fringes of her scope were blurred into nothing more than a mesh of colors; her hearing seemed superhuman but when she tried to focus and really listen, the sounds around her tuned out like the volume dial had been clicked to 0; her body felt as though it were moving at a speed impossible to humans while simultaneously feeling as though her movements weren't going as quickly as she had intended; and the fast pumping blood coursing through her veins made her feel invincible and incredibly strong.

She eyed the man in front of her warily, knowing that if she were to take her eyes off of him, even for a second, that he would have no problem swinging at her again.

Slowly, she tuned out the sounds around her, her shoulders rolling as her clenched hands hung limply at her sides.

"What'sa matter, dyke? Not so tough now that you can't hide behind your snark?" He snarled at her, his cigarette stained yellow teeth gleaming in the dim lighting. "It's not too late to take me up on my offer to straighten you out," his voice dropped an octave, his hand aggressively cupping his crotch as if to punctuate his words.

Emily could only stare at the man, resisting the urge to shudder at the offer and vomit at the crude movement. Reigning in her disgust, she quirked an eyebrow and stared uninterestedly at him, "I'm pretty sure that having sex with you would just solidify my interest in women. Not only are you physically unappealing but from your incessant need to cup your genitals, I can only assume that your abilities in the bedroom are nearly nonexistent and equally unappealing."

His smirk dropped from his face; pitch black eyes focusing on Emily with a look of pure, unadulterated rage. "Rick," he said, his sausage-like finger jabbing into his own chest. "I'm telling you that because after I beat you into submission and make you experience what a real man is like, I want to hear you screaming my name." Rick's voice was dark as he continued to lock eyes with Emily, the promise in his voice making the brunette want to do more than just beat him to a bloody pulp; she wanted to pull out her gun and put a bullet right between his eyes and save the female population from his filthy and domineering ways.

Emily's eyes blazed, her blood feeling like molten lava as it pumped through her. Despite her instinctive need to smash her fist into his pig-like face, the brunette forced herself to smile smugly, her face taking on a taunting look as a dry bark of laughter left her throat. Her laughter stopped when she saw the blood rushing to his face in anger and the veins in his forehead and neck popping out. "Oh, you were serious?" She said in an exaggerated fashion, her eyes comically bulging out.

"Rick," Emily sneered, her face and mood switching so abruptly that the man before her actually took a step backwards, "I doubt that you can even manage to beat yourself let alone manage to beat me, but I would so love to see you try." Her giddiness at the prospect of pummeling the homophobic idiot was enough to make her tolerate the ugliness spewing from his mouth and the smell of booze emanating from his pores.

"You bitch!" Rick spit, his face twisting into an angry scowl as his head bowed and arms outstretched as before he came barreling towards her.

Just before his arms could encircle her, Emily dropped into a crouch and pivoted, popping up quickly behind the man. While he tried to straighten and turn, Emily's foot slammed down into the back of his knee, sending him crashing careening to the floor.

Not wanting the fight to be over so quickly and needing the adrenaline rush to last as long as possible, Emily jumped backward, rocking from heel to toe as she waited for the gargantuan man to get up and come at her again.

"Fucking cunt," Rick hissed, getting up quickly but not before a pain filled grunt left his lips.

Without another word, he rushed towards her, his arm rearing backwards as he prepared to punch her.

Emily let out a bored sigh; ducking once again she put as much strength as possible into her punch and let her fist connect with his oversized gut.

Rick stumbled backwards, a whoosh of air leaving him as he tried to regain his breath. Emily stood before him, idly rubbing at her knuckles and relishing the tiny wave of pain that resulted from the movement.

This time, Rick didn't offer an insult, opting instead to step towards Emily with his fist once again cocked but as his arm swung towards her, his knee jerked upwards at the last second and got her square in the stomach. Emily grunted, the pain of the hit lasting only a second before the rush of adrenaline wiped it away. She knew that once the fight was over and the rush was gone, she would feel it and it would hurt like a bitch, but for now, she would bask in the painless experience.

Emily took a deep breath, her fists clenching tighter as she slipped into her years of training, fully intending to beat the man and end the fun of drawing it out.

Her teeth bared in an animalistic fashion, Emily moved forward at a speed that left everything but her target blurring around her. With a simple twist, she narrowly avoided his fist connecting with her face, feeling and hearing the whoosh of air as his hand meaty paw moved just shy of its intended target.

Her hand shot forward, moving with precision as she landed a right hook to his jaw, only taking a moment to enjoy the crack that resulted. Before Rick could even contemplate the pain of his injury, the brunette pulled her fist back again and crashed it into his nose, ignoring the growing pain in her knuckles in favor or the delicious snap that alerted her to the breaking of his already crooked nose.

Without a second thought, her knee pulled back and came forward as it landed square in his stomach, sending him flying backwards.

The blood was rushing in her ears, muffling any sounds that the man was making, her mind too absorbed in the fight and the rush that the pain, endorphins and dopamine from her confrontation were giving her.

Emily hovered over to his prone body, watching with sick fascination as his chest rose and fell with labored breaths, and blood oozed oozing from his nose and mouth. Without a second thought, she knelt on top of him, her hand wrapping around his throat and applying just enough pressure to show her intent but not enough to completely cut off his oxygen.

"I want you to look at me, Rick" Emily growled, her voice dark and deadly as she stared into his obsidian eyes, "I want you to remember my face." Her hand tightened around his throat, ignoring the way his hands clawed feebly at hers, "I want you to remember who I am and know that if I wanted to," her face lowered towards his ear, her lips just barely ghosting over the shell, "I could kill you."

Her joy at his shiver of fear was short-lived as the sound of people filing out of the bar floated towards them, "I could do it and probably get away with it." She whispered menacingly, knowing from experience just how easily she could accomplish the task. "I won't do it, Rick, but I want you to see the truth in my eyes." Emily pulled back, once again looking him in the eye, showing just how true the words were and just how willing she was to follow through on the act. "If I so much as hear that you've pulled a stunt like this again, rest assured that I will find you and I will kill you."

With glowing brown eyes, Emily smiled a full-fledged smile, her white teeth gleaming in the moonlight, "I don't like to be threatened Rick, but when I am, it's never a pleasant experience for the person doing the threatening." With one last look, Emily released her grip on his throat and leaned back, "Remember what I said, Rick," and without another word, her fist slammed into his head again; his eyes sliding shut as his thick skull smacked into the hard concrete, the broken skin from the contact already starting to trickle blood.

The brunette gracefully stood up and left the secluded alley, her hands brushing off any dirt that might have gathered on her pants, ignoring the dull ache in her bloody knuckles.

When she was satisfied with how her clothes looked, she walked back into the bar and took her seat, slinging back the scotch that appeared in front of her without another thought.

"Have fun?" A blonde woman asked her, her blue eyes sparkling as she slid onto the seat next to Emily.

Emily's face was a cool mask, her eyes taking on their usual guardedness as she cast a quick glance at the woman sitting next to her, "Not as much as I had hoped for."

The blonde hummed, her head nodding as she tried to get a read on the brunette and failing miserably. "I'm JJ," she said after a second of silence, her hand sticking out for Emily to take.

Looking at the hand, the brunette let her eyes make a quick pass over JJ, noticing her entrancing blue eyes and flowing blonde hair, her delicate features and sun kissed skin, "Emily," she finally said, her hand easily sliding into JJ's. "Is JJ short for something?"

JJ smiled, her fingers idly peeling at the label of her beer, "Jennifer, but everyone always calls me JJ."

"Jennifer," Emily tested, preferring the blonde's full name to the nickname.

JJ diverted her gaze to her beer bottle, taking a quick sip before she did something embarrassing like blurting out how nicely her name sounded coming from Emily's lips. In most instances, if anyone dared to say her entire name, she would have smacked them over the head, but when Emily was saying it, it sounded so much more entrancing and unique than it really was.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Jennifer?" Emily asked suddenly, holding up two fingers for the bartender and pointing towards JJ's half empty beer bottle.

Slowly, the raven haired woman turned to look JJ in the eye, a flirtatious smile on full display.

JJ simply shrugged, taking another pull of her beer as she tried to appear nonchalant and completely unaffected by the smoldering look in the other woman's eyes. "Thought you might like some company."

The answer gave Emily pause, her drink stopping just before it reached her lips. "You are aware that last person who offered to keep me company is currently passed out in the alley behind the bar, right?"

The blonde waved her hand dismissively, completely ignoring the incredulous look on Emily's face as she did so, "He had it coming. Besides, if I heard correctly, which I'm inclined to believe I did, men aren't exactly your forte."

Emily laughed genuinely, her head shaking as she looked down at the bar top, "You heard that, huh?"

"Well, the dartboard is right next to the door so it was kind of hard not to hear it." JJ joked, her easy smile drawing Emily in like a moth to a flame.

"Good to know that my incredible fighting skills and quick wit weren't wasted on the bloody and unconscious drunk out there," Emily joked, her confident smirk taking up residence on her face as she gazed at the blonde.

"So modest," JJ jibed, her eyes alight with humor as she took another sip of her beer. "So, what brings you here and beating men unconscious tonight, Emily?" the blonde asked after their conversation had hit a lull, her eyes holding nothing but interest as she tried to get a read on the woman next to her.

"Bad day," Emily said tersely, not at all interested in divulging the events that led her to a dirty bar and the need to drown her sorrows in hard liquor.

"Ah, I have those often," the blonde replied easily, her shoulders shrugging when Emily stared at her questioningly. "My line of work doesn't usually result in good days, just bad or uneventful," she offered as way of an explanation.

It was at those words that Emily noticed the familiar shadows that lurked beneath JJ's blue eyes – the same shadows that she often found occupied her own.

Brown eyes flickered over JJ's form again, this time not out of interest in her body but as a way of gathering more information on the blonde. "Law enforcement?" Emily asked after a moment, noticing the gun that was hidden just beneath the blonde's jacket.

JJ tilted her head in thought for a second before nodding, her hand waffling in the air as she clarified her contemplation of the assessment, "Yes and no."

Emily narrowed her eyes in response, sensing the challenge and rising to the bait. "Not a police officer, otherwise you would be in uniform. You don't strike me as the detective type either, so that's out." She verbally went through her deductions, only barely noticing the amused smile JJ sported as the options were ticked away.

"FBI?" Emily finally asked, her head propped on her fist as she awaited an answer.

JJ smirked, "Impressive." Her amusement and amazement wasn't hidden as she stared openly at the raven haired woman.

"I try," Emily said cockily, her eyes shining with mirth as she sipped her drink, never breaking eye contact with the blonde.

"So, now that you know what I do, it's only fair you tell me what you do." The blonde commanded, not at all bothered by the bossiness of her words.

Deciding to give in, Emily acquiesced. "As of this morning, I am officially unemployed. Well, technically, I've been put on temporary leave but it's just semantics." Upon JJ's unimpressed look, Emily smirked and nodded, "Law enforcement," she said as an answer to the look.

"Do I have to guess or is that the best I'm gonna get?" JJ asked when it seemed as though Emily wasn't going to elaborate any further.

"That's the best you're gonna get for now," she replied, unable to tell a complete stranger about her Interpol work.

"I'll get it out of you one way or another," JJ said mysteriously before switching topics entirely. "Do you live here in D.C?"

Sensing the direction of the conversation, Emily quietly sighed to herself and tapped her fingers on the bar top. "Yep, been living here for about a year, and before you ask, no I didn't grow up here and I hadn't intended to live here. I was raised all over Europe."

Only somewhat shocked by the onslaught of answers, JJ simply stared, unwilling to let the other woman's take-charge attitude deter her. "Why'd you move all Europe?"

At that, Emily's attention redirected itself towards the bottles that lined the wall behind the bar, "My mother was an Ambassador so we spent most of my youth moving all over Europe for her work."

Deciding to bare just as much of her soul as she had asked Emily to, she reciprocated, "I didn't grow up here either; I grew up in a little town in Pennsylvania. I would have killed to have grown up anywhere other than that small town – it always made me feel like wanting to be something more than a store clerk, teacher or mechanic was arrogant and selfish."

"Expectations are always a pain in the ass," Emily practically whispered, her own mother's expectations sounding loudly in her head.

"My mother couldn't understand why I didn't want to do something safer–why I wouldn't want to stay and teach at East Allegheny High School or maybe coach a soccer team until I settled down, married and had kids. My profession has always been a bit of a sore spot, along with the fact that I'll never marry a man and have kids." The words tumbled from JJ's mouth without another thought, though she wasn't bothered by the information she was sharing. There wasn't much in her life that she couldn't talk about and something about Emily made her want to share these things, if only to have the other woman share just as much.

"She doesn't like your job because it's dangerous," Emily stated more than asked, her eyes still not connecting with the blonde's.

JJ nodded anyways, wanting to keep the conversation flowing, even if it was most one-sided. "Basically. I'm all she's got left so she worries."

Emily smiled sadly at that, her curiosity getting the better of her as she looked into JJ's eyes, only to see the love and caring that swirled within them. The sight made Emily's heart clench in jealousy, knowing that any dislike her mother had towards her career was based solely on the fact that no one would continue her legacy as an Ambassador once she could no longer maintain her post.

"Does it bother her that you're a lesbian or that you won't be able to have a child that's biologically yours and your partners?" Emily finally asked after her initial bout of jealousy had passed.

"Neither, she could care less if the child is genetically mine or not and she cares too much about my happiness to judge me for something I can't control. She dislikes the struggles I'll have to face because I like women and not men." JJ wasn't quite sure why she needed to make that separation clear but she did and from the understanding look on Emily's face, she could only assume that she had succeeded.

Emily's eyes were surprisingly expressive and the sheer force of the emotions that seem to be swirling within the murky depths of those brown eyes nearly knocked JJ off her seat. A part of her couldn't help but wonder if the other woman knew that her eyes were telling more than her words could ever do justice, but she figured, based on what she'd seen from the raven haired beauty, that Emily probably had no clue. JJ could only assume that the copious amounts of alcohol Emily had consumed had left her unable to fully mask her emotions and now her eyes were open and clear. For the briefest of moments, JJ is sure that if she looked close enough, if she picked apart the varying emotions, she could easily see directly into Emily's soul.

She only gets about three emotions in before her interest in picking apart those brown eyes is lost and redirected towards the words that seem to be raining down from Emily's luscious pink lips. "My mother is a lot like yours," she muses, her tone thoughtful as she stares unseeingly at the blonde, "though, that's almost an insult to your mother and for that I apologize."

And normally, in any other circumstance, JJ would have taken that for the joke it was but the absolute sincerity in Emily's words has her choking down her chuckle. Inside, the blonde can feel the beginning stirrings of sadness take root, her heart sputtering for just a second as she realizes yet another emotion she'd seen in Emily's unshuttered eyes — disappointment.

Emily's teeth gnawed on her lip, the familiar constricting in her throat, the prickling behind her eyes as she remembered the flurry of disappointing moments that led her to live a life where she seemed to only flourish in isolation. "My job was never something my mother approved of, though her reasons were entirely different than your mother's. She never meant for me to be anything other than an ambassador–to follow in her footsteps. She doesn't care about the risks of my job, that I could–" 'die' is what Emily keeps from saying. In place of that one word, she gives a dry and humorless chuckle, her eyes dark as the shutters drop down behind them, creating a thick barrier so that JJ can't see the manifested and festering hurt that has never and probably will never go away.

"She's disappointed in my wasted talent," Emily says instead, the constricting of her throat making her want to up and leave and never think of this conversation again. "As for the lesbian thing, well, she couldn't care less. It basically a moot point for her." Upon JJ's questioning gaze, Emily sighs, "In her political circles she's wins favor with the LGBT supporters but loses those who are strongly opposed. She comes out about even no matter what, so she's indifferent to it."

JJ's eyes widened, wondering how Emily could talk so casually about her mother's flippant disregard towards her life, how she could be okay with having a mother who uses her as a chess piece and nothing more.

"Doesn't that bother you?" the blonde asked incredulously, her own anger bleeding through as she stared angrily at the other woman.

Her fury only increased tenfold when Emily just shrugged; the other woman shrugging as if to say 'what can you do' and JJ wanted to both hug the other woman and smack the heck out of her mother.

"I've come to terms with it. It could be much worse," Emily supplied easily, her voice no longer holding the emotion it had just moments prior. "She could hate me, could have tried to pray the gay away or even worse, could have disowned me. I find it hard to be angry with her indifference—because that's what it is—when there are other people out there who lose their entire support system because of something they can't change, because they don't love the people society wants them to." Her steely brown eyes turned towards JJ's widened ones, "So no, it doesn't bother me."

What Emily doesn't say is that she finds it selfish to hate her mother for just tolerating her lifestyle. She doesn't mention that her and her mother rarely even talk and at this point Emily might as well be disowned for all the disappointments she's caused in her mother. If she had no purpose, she is of no use.

"You're allowed to be angry and you're allowed to feel hurt, Emily." JJ says softly, her hand resting lightly on top of Emily's.

And while JJ's words ring rang true in the other woman, while Emily wants nothing more than to allow herself to break down and scream to the skies, to question why her mother can't seem to acknowledge her existence and all the good that she's done, she knows she can't and won't do it. Her childhood was nothing short of messed up and Emily finds herself unable to show her weaknesses. She finds herself incapable of feeling hurt or angry at her mother because she was raised better than that.

She was raised to keep it in and hidden away like a dirty little secret.

"No, I'm not," Emily whispers, unsure if she's saying it for JJ's benefit or her own. The hollowness in her chest though, makes it very clear.

JJ has no rebuttal for that, opting instead to twine her fingers with Emily's in a show of silent support.

Emily can only glance down at the strong hand that seems to be keeping her tethered to the ground. Long tan fingers are wrapped easily and steadily around her hand, the contrast of JJ's skin against her own making her heart beat faster and her body hum with delight.

A strange sensation ripples from the points of contact up through her arm and to her heart, like a beacon, where it splits into a millions different directions and warms her entire body. No part of her, no matter how small, is left untouched by the warmth and familiarity that JJ's touch seems to bring.

"How about a game of darts?" JJ suggests, her eyebrows rising in silent challenge, knowing the woman sitting beside her wasn't the type to just turn away from a challenge.

"Stakes?" Emily asked after a moment, her interest obviously piqued.

JJ thought on it for a moment, sizing up her competition and weighing options. "How about this," she started slowly, dragging her eyes away from the dartboard as she smiled almost wickedly at Emily, "winner gets whatever they want from the loser."

Emily held JJ's gaze, unwilling to show anything other than excitement at the prospect. "That sounds a little too vague," she muttered slowly, head tilted in contemplation, "I mean, what's to stop you from taking advantage of me or draining my bank accounts?" The words were only half serious, the ever present mischievous glint in Emily's eyes saw to that.

Huffing in amusement, JJ snorted quietly and spoke with a voice full of whimsy, "You take your bets that seriously? You would be willing to give me access to your bank accounts or take advantage of you solely because you lost a bet and had to do whatever I wanted?" She couldn't keep the incredulity out of her voice even if she tried, unsure of how serious she should be taking the other woman.

For her part, Emily stood somewhat stoically, her eyes only widening a fraction as she stared contumaciously at the other woman. "I'm a Prentiss," she offered as way of an explanation, as though JJ would immediately understand that being a Prentiss meant upholding her honors and commitments, even if they were to her detriment. Unfortunately, JJ wasn't clued in to that little fact and stood there, hand fanning in the air as if to say 'And?' while her face held an inscrutable look as she waited for further explanation.

The raven haired woman groaned loudly, her eyes rolling in a melodramatic fashion, "A Prentiss always repays her dues, always honors her debts and upholds all obligations and commitments. So yes, I take my bets seriously." The teasing was gone in an instant, her expression sobering up as her voice lowered and her eyes hardened, "There aren't many things about myself I can take pride in, Jennifer, but my word, my sense of honor in this regard, is one of the few that I can."

Not so long ago, Emily would have been able to tick off the many things she valued in herself, things about her character that she could rejoice in and show off to the world. But then Ian Doyle happened and he slowly but surely chipped away at her strength, his hands reaching into her soul and ripping apart, tarnishing, the things she valued.

Her strength was gone, her willpower was only a fraction of what it had once been, her hardened shell had been cracked as easily as an egg breaks, her moral compass had been thrown out of whack and so much of her was left broken, tattered, and irreparable. All she had left, the only thing he had yet to touch, to defile, was her sense of commitment, her sense of honor when it came to her word.

She couldn't lose that on top of everything else.

"We all have our things," JJ said tentatively, her eyes searching as she gingerly reached out to establish a connection. "I take pride in my vernacular and my ability to communicate with others. It's not much, but it's what led me to the FBI and helps me save lives, however indirectly it may be."

Emily stared down at the hand that once again blanketed her own, inner turmoil making her wonder why she continued to spill these thoughts and hang-ups so easily. The walls she had around her, the barriers that had been in place for years were suddenly gone and her thoughts fell unbidden from her lips.

It both scared and excited her.

Jennifer both scared and excited her.

"Why do you keep doing that?" Emily wondered after a moment of silent contemplation, her eyes open and vulnerable as she tried to see something within the depths of JJ's blue eyes.

"Keep doing what?" JJ responded, her confusion evident as her fingers tightened their hold on Emily's hand, fearful that she might disappear into the shadows.

"You keep trying to relate to me, keep trying to–" her face contorted in a mixture of confusion and irritation, "connect with me. Why?"

For a second, JJ's face remained impervious to the observations, ignorant of the look she was receiving from the other woman, until a blinding smile spread across her face. "Because you needed someone to talk to and it's only fair to give as much as I get."

Emily was left speechless, unable to fathom how she was supposed to take that.

"Now, back to our game," JJ stated, sensing that she had basically thrown Emily for a loop with her answer. "You were right about the stakes, so we'll switch it up a bit." With that, she threw a flirty smile towards the raven haired woman, "How about, whoever gets the better score that round, gets to ask any question they want and the other person has to answer truthfully."

Emily cocked an eyebrow at the proposition, still uncomfortable with the idea of having to answer a question she would no doubt prefer not to. Deciding to throw caution to the wind, she nodded but gave the blonde an all knowing stare, "I'll agree to the terms but I get the feeling that I'm about to be hustled."

JJ didn't respond, only offering a devilish smile before walking back over to the dart board and grabbing a handful of darts.

"Let the fun begin," she said cheekily before gripping her dart between her thumb and index finger, flinging it with ease towards the board.