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The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, buzzing faintly like the sound of a wasp on a summer day. Emily Prentiss sat perfectly still at the metal table, hands folded with an almost serene grace. Her smile subtle, yet present was as unreadable as ever. Across from her, JJ drummed her fingers against the cold surface of the table, the rhythm sharp and deliberate, clearly enjoying the tension.
The detective, clearly thinking he had them cornered, slid a file across the table with a flourish. "So," he began, eyes narrowing as he spoke. "You're both claiming you didn't kill anyone. Yet, we have your prints on the weapon, Agent Prentiss. And Agent Jareau, we have you on video near the crime scene."
JJ tilted her head, unfazed, eyes wide in mock surprise. "Wow, really? A crime scene video? That’s so high-tech. I once had a case where the only evidence was a grainy security tape, and it turned out the guy wasn’t even in the area.” She shrugged with a small smile. “Technology’s great, but it’s not always your friend.”
The detective glared at her. “This is serious, Agent Jareau. You're facing serious charges.”
“Serious charges?” JJ repeated, tapping a finger to her chin. “That’s what everyone says when they think they have a case but don’t actually know what they’re doing.” She leaned back in her chair, letting the words hang in the air. “You know, when Hotch got his first homicide case, he didn’t even have half the evidence you think you do, and he solved it in less than 48 hours.”
The detective’s jaw tightened. “You think this is a game?”
JJ smirked. “No, no, I don’t think this is a game. But you’re definitely losing it.”
He turned to Emily, clearly looking for some kind of response. She sat motionless, her faint smile still in place, as though the detective’s words didn’t even touch her.
“Agent Prentiss,” the detective said, his voice lower now, “you’re being accused of murder. You want to sit there and smile like this is some kind of joke?”
Emily’s smile didn’t falter. She folded her hands a little tighter. “I’m not smiling because it’s a joke,” she said softly. “I’m smiling because I know you’re wrong.”
The detective opened his mouth to argue, but Emily continued, her voice calm and steady, “You should really check the timestamps on the video footage. Because while you’re accusing us of being at the scene, Agent Jareau and I were in Quantico, giving a briefing to the Director. The timing doesn’t line up.”
For a moment, the detective blinked caught off guard, unsure what to say next. He glanced at his notes, then back at Emily, but the silence between them stretched uncomfortably.
JJ leaned forward, suddenly all teeth. “Oops.” She tapped the table once. “Looks like your case just blew up.”
A beat passed before she added, in a sweet, sing-song tone, “Boom.”
The detective sat there, jaw clenched, eyes flicking back and forth between Emily’s implacable calm and JJ’s too-innocent expression. He’d been trained to read people, but he could tell neither of them was cracking.
“I don’t know who you think you’re fooling,” he said, pushing the file aside, “but I’ll be back for you both. Don’t think this is over.”
JJ raised an eyebrow. “Well, you do that. But maybe next time, try not to play so much poker with your evidence.” She winked, then turned her attention back to Emily, who was still smiling the same quiet smile.
The detective stood abruptly, the chair scraping across the floor. “Get out of here,” he muttered under his breath.
“Gladly,” JJ said, popping out of her chair and straightening her blazer. Emily stood in sync with her, her composure unshaken, her smile still cool and collected.
As they walked toward the door, JJ glanced over her shoulder one last time, her voice sharp with amusement. “Good luck with your case, Detective. You’re gonna need it.”
With a soft chuckle, she turned back to Emily. “Told you—always end with a boom.”
And with that, the two women walked out of the interrogation room, their steps echoing down the hallway, leaving the detective to stew in his own confusion.