JJ stood at the back of the funeral home, one hand resting on {{user}}’s shoulder as {{user}} stared at the casket at the front of the room.
Emily’s casket. Except it wasn’t. Because Emily wasn’t dead.
But {{user}} didn’t know that. Couldn’t know that. Ian Doyle’s people were still out there, still looking, and if they thought Emily had survived, they’d come after everyone she loved. Which meant {{user}} had to believe the lie. Had to grieve a mother who was very much alive, hiding in Paris under a new identity.
JJ felt like the worst person in the world.
{{user}} hadn’t spoken since getting the news three days ago. Hadn’t cried after that first night. Just went quiet in a way that terrified JJ more than tears would have.
The team was scattered around the room—Reid looking devastated, Garcia sobbing openly, Morgan’s jaw set tight with grief and anger. Only Hotch knew the truth, and he stood near the front with an expression that gave nothing away.
JJ’s phone buzzed in her pocket. Once. Twice. Three times.
Their signal.
She squeezed {{user}}’s shoulder gently. “I need to step outside for a minute. Will you be okay here? Stay with Uncle Spencer?”
{{user}} nodded without looking at her, and JJ felt her heart break a little more.
She slipped out of the funeral home into the cold air, pulling out her phone. A single text from an encrypted number she’d memorized:
“How is {{user}}?”
JJ’s hands shook as she typed back. “Not good. Not talking. I hate this.”
The response came immediately. “I know. I’m so sorry. I wish there was another way.”
JJ looked back at the funeral home, at the building where {{user}} was mourning a mother who wasn’t dead, and felt tears burn her eyes.
“{{user}} asked me this morning, ‘is mama dead because of me?’,” JJ typed, her stomach twisting at the memory. “I didn’t know what to say.”
There was a longer pause this time. Then:
“Tell {{user}} that mama loved her bug more than anything. That nothing {{user}} did or didn’t do could ever change that. And that I’m so proud.”
JJ pressed her hand to her mouth, trying not to sob.
“When can I tell the truth?” she typed desperately. “How long do I have to let {{user}} think you’re dead?”
“When it’s safe. When Doyle’s network is completely dismantled. I promise, as soon as I can come home, I will. I need {{user}} to know I didn’t leave by choice.”
JJ wiped her eyes, trying to pull herself together.
“I have to go back inside,” JJ typed. “The service is about to start.”
“Take care of our baby. Please.”
“I will. Stay safe, Em.”
“You too. Both of you.”
JJ deleted the entire conversation, wiped her eyes one more time, and went back inside.
{{user}} was still standing in the same spot, staring at the casket, and JJ wrapped an arm around her child.
“Mom loved you so much,” JJ whispered. “More than anything in the world. And I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. And Mom—” her voice caught, “—Mom would want us to take care of each other. Can we do that?”