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Touch has always been important to Emily.
At five, she tries to hug her mother’s leg at an embassy event. The Ambassador removes her with a too-firm hand on her shoulder. It’s the first time her mother has touched her in weeks.
By the time Emily turns seven, she knows better. At the dinner table, she sits up straight with her hands clasped in her lap. When she asks to be excused, she doesn’t try to hug her mother goodnight. But when her new nanny Francesca tucks her into bed, she kisses Emily’s forehead. Emily doesn’t understand why it makes her cry.
On her twelfth birthday, the Ambassador decides that Emily is too old for a nanny. She can take care of herself now, the Ambassador says. Emily hugs Francesca goodbye and cries into her chest. Her mother pulls her away and says she’s making a scene.
After four more years of handshakes and formal distance, Emily meets Mathieu in Rome. He gives the warmest hugs she’s ever known. At church, they make a game of kicking each other under the pews. It’s the first time in her life that someone has ever touched her so casually. When he dies twenty years later, she stands freezing in the snow in front of a church. As she stares up at the stained glass windows, she can almost feel his arms around her.
Soon after Rome, Emily realizes that she doesn’t like to be touched by men the same way she likes being touched by women. Her mother’s disapproval doesn’t sting anymore. She goes to college, then to grad school, and along the way curates a collection of women she loves and leaves.
When she starts work for Interpol, she goes back to formality. She doesn’t mind it so much anymore. This time, it’s her choice, and her work is interesting. Then, she gets an assignment with JTF-12. Suddenly, touch is part of her job. She compartmentalizes to the very best of her ability. She tells herself that when Doyle brushes her hair behind one ear, when she kisses him, when they sleep together, that it’s all Lauren. But afterwards, when Doyle is locked up and Emily is finally Emily again, she doesn’t let anyone touch her for a year.
When Emily joins the FBI, she’s expecting formality again. At first, that’s what she gets. The team keeps their distance, and at first they’re cold enough to her that she doesn’t mind. It doesn’t take her long to notice how casual they all are with each other. When they warm up to her, she realizes that they’re not just a team. They’re family. And she’s one of them now. It’s a new feeling, and she loves it. Penelope sweeps her into bear hugs. Morgan punches her playfully on the shoulder. JJ elbows her side and wiggles her eyebrows when Gideon says something nutty.
Emily tries to ignore how different the last touch feels. Why should JJ be any different to her than the other team members? It doesn’t take her long to figure it out. When she looks at JJ, at her soft blonde hair and sad blue eyes, she has to look away. She lectures herself on professionalism. She tells herself that JJ doesn’t feel the same way, will never feel the same way. She doesn’t give in to it. She starts keeping her distance again.
Until Penelope gets shot.
Suddenly, the team is in the waiting room of the hospital. Nobody knows if Penelope is okay. Nobody knows what happened. Nobody can find Morgan. This isn’t the worst Emily’s seen, not by a long shot. She sits and hopes desperately that Penelope will be okay. She doesn’t let herself think anything else. But when she looks over at the woman sitting next to her, she realizes that JJ is about to fall apart. Without thinking, she reaches over and squeezes JJ’s wrist, and JJ grabs her hand. Emily brushes it off. It doesn’t mean anything. JJ needs comfort. All the two women can think about, as they sit and wait and worry, is Penelope. But when Penelope gets out of surgery, JJ keeps her hand in Emily’s, and she doesn’t let go.
After that day, Emily can’t ignore it anymore. She lets herself get close to JJ. She holds JJ’s hand when she needs it. She squeezes JJ’s shoulder when she needs support. She lets JJ rest her head on her shoulder on the flight back from a long, hard, case. At first, Emily thinks that she’s letting herself get hurt. She thinks that JJ could never feel that way about her. But JJ starts touching her more than anyone else— a gentle hand on her waist as she walks by, a brush of her hand down Emily’s arm, an extra hug before they sit down in the briefing room. She knows it won’t end well for her, that JJ will find someone else soon. It won’t be hard for JJ— she’s perfect. But for now, JJ is almost hers. And when they fly to Miami, when Emily realizes that Will looks at JJ in the same way she’s tried to hide for almost a year now, all she can think is “Why him?”
She doesn’t say that, though. Instead, she stands next to JJ and tells her that she and Will would make a good couple. She’s really hoping that JJ will say no, that JJ will choose her. But she doesn’t, and Emily watches JJ run down the ramp and kiss Will. When Morgan walks up next to her, Emily can’t even hear what he’s saying. She doesn’t even try. Instead, she just walks away. She knew this would happen. She just couldn’t prepare herself for how much it hurts.
So JJ and Will are together. And it’s fine.
But JJ still touches her. JJ looks at Emily like she knows every terrible thought running through her head, like she thinks the same thing. Emily lets it continue. She doesn’t even know if she thinks it’s wrong. After all, they aren’t anything more than friends. JJ chose Will. That’s that.
But she still touches her.
Emily watches JJ become a mother. She watches JJ take a job at the Pentagon. She watches as ‘JJ and Will’ become ‘The Jareau-Lamontagne Family.’ They all joke about what a mouthful that name is, and yeah, it’s funny, but every time Emily hears it, it’s like a kick to the ribs. Even though JJ doesn’t marry Will, everyone knows she will eventually. But against all odds, against every date and ring and child, Emily can’t help but hope. Because every time JJ’s fingertips brush her arm, every time they squeeze onto the loveseat together in Penelope’s apartment, every time JJ leans her head on Emily’s shoulder, it feels like she’s trying to say something she can’t quite get out. Emily knows it’s foolish and terrible. She knows she’s only going to hurt herself, only going to put herself through more pain. But JJ touches her like she loves her. And what else could Emily possibly do? She has an interesting job. She works with people she loves. She has a nice apartment and an adorable cat and she spends her days off watching horror movies and going to clubs. She has everything she wants. Well, almost everything. But for the first time in her life she feels good. Secure.
Until Ian Doyle escapes from prison. Suddenly, all of the secrets she’d been holding back for seven years push their way to the surface. Emily tries to cover her tracks but when it’s clear that she can’t hide any longer, she runs. It’s awful, and she hates it. But for the first time, she’s not running for herself. She runs to protect her team. Her family. Emily had spent the last six months wishing that JJ hadn’t left the B.A.U., but suddenly, she’s never been gladder, because Doyle doesn’t know about her. And even when Doyle catches her, when all of the horror of her time spent with him sits once again in the spots where his fingertips press into her arms, Emily endures. Emily endures the pain of his hands on her skin once again, endures that touch that she had almost forgotten, endures the hiss of the branding iron on her left breast. It’s the worst pain she’s ever felt, and she can smell her own burning flesh, and she nearly passes out, but she endures. She fights, because she knows that no matter what Doyle does to her, JJ is safe.
And all too soon, the burning pain of the branding iron is one-upped by the splitting, screaming, black-out pain of a wooden post through her abdomen, and Emily knows she is dying. She hears sirens, and she sees Morgan’s face hovering ghostlike above her, and before she can tell him what she needs to say, before she can explain that he needs to tell JJ that she loves her, Emily blacks out.
Death is black and cold and unforgiving. Emily sinks into it. She is still, and she is numb. She feels nothing. There is no more touch for her in death. She knows Doyle has won. Maybe it’s what she deserves for putting her family in danger. If she had a second chance, she thinks, she would make it right.
And she does get a second chance. Endless darkness is replaced with fluorescent light, and numbness replaced with awful, unrelenting pain. She is in a hospital, the doctors say, in Boston. She coded. She almost died. She underwent surgery. When they talk, their words reach her ears garbled and muffled and blended together, as if she is underwater. She stops listening. She lets them stick her arm with needles and change her bandages. Their hands are cold. She wishes they would stop touching her. She does not look at the ragged, aching scar on her abdomen or the scabbed clover on her breast. She closes her eyes. She wishes again for death. The drugged sleep that tugs her eyes closed is close enough.
The next time Emily wakes up, there is a hand on hers. It’s not cold or rubber-gloved. It’s warm and soft. She’s still heavily sedated and in pain, but she knows exactly who it is. Before she can say anything, even before her eyes are fully open, JJ is crying, draping her arms over Emily in the best imitation of a hug they can manage. Emily is not one for emotional displays, but she’s crying too. She can remember why she was fighting now. Emily thinks about what she thought were her last moments, the words she tried and failed to tell Morgan. She thinks about saying them now, but even with the strength of her feelings she can’t make them come out. She and JJ cry and cry and cry until they’re both all cried out, and then JJ explains everything. Her words are clear, even if her voice wavers, and while she speaks, she doesn’t let go of Emily’s hand. JJ’s touch is a lifeline, and Emily clings to it desperately. The next three weeks, Emily holds on to JJ and doesn’t let go. JJ practically lives in her hospital room, and on the days she spends at home with Henry, she checks in constantly. When Emily is finally well enough to fly to Paris, she nearly passes out with relief when JJ tells her she’ll be coming along. She’ll only be there for a few days, she says, just enough time to help Emily settle in.
The flight from Logan International to Charles De Gaulle is wonderful, until it’s not. The jet is nice. It’s just Emily and JJ, curled up next to each other. Emily has a thick blanket that she keeps wrapped around her, clutching it tight. JJ slides her legs under it and rests her thigh against Emily’s. They chat idly for an hour, maybe two, until JJ reaches her hand. Emily’s blanket has slipped around her shoulders, and the shiny pink scar tissue peeks above the neckline of her shirt. JJ’s long, delicate fingers brush against it so, so tenderly. And Emily thinks: now is as good a time as any. But when she tucks JJ’s hand in her own, when she swallows and looks into JJ’s eyes, when she opens her mouth to speak, JJ’s face makes her stop.
She knows. Emily can tell. She doesn’t know for how long. Maybe JJ realized it as soon as they met. Maybe she just figured it out. It doesn’t matter. Because she knows.
JJ leans forward, and for a second Emily thinks she is going to kiss her. But instead, she presses their foreheads together, and her free hand rests on the back of Emily’s neck. It is somehow more intimate than a kiss. Emily knows that this is the closest she has ever gotten to someone. She knows it is the closest she will ever get. Nobody will ever touch her like this again, and if they tried she wouldn’t want them to. There are quiet tears dripping down JJ’s face, and Emily realizes she is crying too. It’s not a denial, not quite. But it stings just as much. They stay like this, face to face, until Emily finally falls asleep, tears still salty on her cheeks. She wakes to JJ’s gentle touch. They’ve landed, and when they step off the jet onto the airstrip, JJ takes Emily’s hand in hers again. They don’t talk about what happened on the plane. They say nothing, the entire three days that JJ stays with Emily in Paris. Then, she’s gone, and Emily is alone.
In Paris, Emily allows herself freedom she didn’t let herself have back home. She wines, dines, and discards a series of lovely French women. She goes home with strangers she meets at cafes and bars. Across the ocean, Emily doesn’t feel so unbelievably tethered to JJ. Without her touch, she can almost convince herself she’s over it. But she never lets anyone get too close. She tells herself it’s because she’s technically in hiding, because she can’t let anyone know her real identity, can’t let them see her for too long, and yes, that’s partially true, but the real reason is because Emily knows deep down that she’s still in love with JJ. She plays online scrabble to pass her days and she hopes that by the end of her stay in France, whenever that will be, her feelings will have faded into the background, or even disappeared entirely. But of course, Emily can control her face and her voice and her body but she can’t control the strength of her emotions, and so when at last she returns to Quantico and walks into the door of the briefing room, she almost breaks down at the sight of JJ smiling at her like she’s her favorite person in the whole world.
She is, JJ assures her that night on the couch of her apartment, when Penelope is in the bathroom. She is JJ’s favorite person in the world. They are together on the couch, and Emily can’t help but remember JJ’s hand on her neck, their foreheads pressed together, the last time they sat like this. JJ hasn’t said a word about it, and Emily doesn’t want to mention it, and Penelope is there anyways. But she wants to ask. So, so badly. She wants to ask her if that’s really it. She wants to ask if there is anything, anything she could to to make JJ love her. She knows it’s embarrassing, pathetic, but she also knows that she would debase herself if it meant getting what she wanted.
But most of all, she wants to ask JJ why she touches her the way she does. Emily thinks that if she could figure out why JJ touches her, why it feels so good, then she could unravel her feelings like a tangled spool of yarn and put them all back in the right place. She could stop loving JJ.
Really, though, she knows that nothing will make a difference. Maybe it will go away. Maybe Emily will wake up in a month, and she will realize that her heart has stopped skipping beats when JJ puts her hand on her leg. Maybe it will be two months. Maybe six. Maybe a year, two years, five, ten. Maybe it will never go away. Maybe Emily will die, this time of old age, and in her dying breath she will think the same thing as she did the first time around. She will cry out for someone, anyone. Please, come near, please, listen to me, please tell her. Please. Please.
Because touch has always been important to Emily. Because JJ touches her. And that will have to be enough.