Teaching jj

Chapter 13

Initially, the car ride was eerily quiet, with JJ keeping her eyes focused on the road ahead of her and Emily pointedly staring out the window while '90s music blared from the radio.

After about thirty minutes of this, Emily reached forward to lower the volume and offered, "Maybe we should work on developing our aliases."

"Fine."

Emily was flummoxed. What had happened to the woman back at the BAU who had very nearly kissed her, whispering words about how excited she was to be going undercover as Emily's lesbian girlfriend?

"OK, so give me a name that fits," she suggested, ignoring JJ's icy tone.

JJ looked at her askance before turning her eyes back to the road in front of them. "Olivia Bennett."

Emily let out a short bark of laughter, covering her smile when JJ glanced back over and snapped defensively, "What? What's so funny about that? You asked for a name that fits and I gave you one."

"Um, been watching Special Victims Unit much, Alexandra Cabot?" Emily asked pointedly.

JJ covered her mouth for a moment, unable to suppress her sudden giggling fit. "Oh, my God, her name's 'Olivia Benson'! You're so right! I don't know what it is about her, but she's always reminded me of you."

Relieved that the mood had been lightened - for the moment, at least - Emily cocked her head, her dark hair falling over her right shoulder, and offered, "Actually, Alexandra is a good name for you, I think. Let's focus on last names afterward. Give me a good first name. Alexandra and ..."

JJ bit her lip thoughtfully. "Alexandra and Lauren?"

With that name - with the reminder of all she'd endured when she'd lived through the horror of bearing that name - Emily let out an unexpected sob, covering her face to prevent JJ to see the unstoppable stream of tears cascading down her face.

"Oh, Emily. Oh, shit. I wasn't thinking of - Please, Emily, it was just the first name that came into my head; it wasn't ... I wasn't ..."

The car abruptly swerved onto the shoulder, lights flashing. Emily looked up from beneath her fingers and, through her tears, managed to say, "You know that's illegal on this highway, right?"

"We're FBI agents." JJ rolled her eyes.

"No, we're not," Emily insisted firmly, forgetting about JJ's earlier mishap about Doyle. He was dead, except in her memories, whereas any further mishaps in the present could endanger both of their lives. "You're Alexandra Brewster, graduate of the University of Central Florida, near the suburb of Orlando where you were raised. You obtained a bachelor's degree in business, and I'm ... I'm ..."

"Vivian Cook, graduate of New York University, also near where you were raised on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, with a degree in literature. Your parents wanted you to be a doctor but you decided to pursue your PhD at Columbia and, after being rejected by one major publisher after another for several years, you did the one thing you promised yourself you'd never do and used your parents' connections to obtain a temporary teaching position. That's how we met. I was forced to take one of your classes to fulfill my MBA requirements and I fell in love with you at first sight," JJ continued spontaneously. "Unlike your other students, I hadn't read your local or small-print publications. So, unlike them, I had no idea you might be a lesbian. There were rumors, of course, but that's the way it always was for a single professor in her late twenties who seemed to have no life outside of work and who had cut off all ties with an extremely wealthy and prominent family."

"... which I was forced to do when a colleague in my department mailed them my explicit writings about my same-sex relationships," Emily interjected.

"And then one day, after class, you asked me to stay late. I didn't want to, because I didn't really see the point of literature when I was going to make it big in business - and because I was fighting my attraction to you, of course."

"I'd noticed you from the very first class. Between your obvious disinterest in the material plus the fact that you always dressed like a professional, unlike my other grad students, I couldn't not notice you. And I wanted you from the moment I laid eyes on you," Emily added, her memories of Ian Doyle now long gone and her focus entirely diverted to this entertaining game of inventing a completely separate life for herself. For both of them. "I could tell you were annoyed when I asked, Ms. Brewster, may I speak with you for a moment after class? You even rolled your eyes as you sweetly answered, yes, ma'am, assuming you were in trouble over a class that didn't even matter to you. So you were completely surprised when I told you that your analytic writing was the strongest in the class and when I urged you to reconsider your focus."

"... and I answered sarcastically, what, so I can end up like you, without a book deal or any major magazine articles and only a temporary teaching gig with no hope of ever becoming a professor? I don't think so. You were hurt - I knew I'd hurt you - but you didn't show it."

"That's when I leaned forward," Emily murmured, brushing her hand against JJ's jeans for a second, causing her to jump in surprise, "and picked a piece of lint of your skirt. You jumped, just like that. So I said, very innocently, I'm sorry. I thought you would have wanted me to remove that. But I kept my hand where it was and started stroking your thigh, exactly like I'm doing now. I knew I was taking a huge risk, professionally and personally, but I didn't care. Because you were right. Because I had nothing else to lose.""And I wanted it ... but I didn't want it, at the same time," JJ whispered, her eyes fixated on the place where Emily was stroking her inner thigh. "I was only twenty-two. I was so confused."

"Would you have been less confused at, say, twenty-nine?" Emily asked breathlessly. Out of character now.

"No. The feelings would have been the same."

"Did you ever ask me to stop, J ... Alexandra?" Emily wanted to know.

"No, Vivian. Or Ms. Cook, as I guess I called you then. I didn't. I stood there like a deer frozen in the headlights, just watching as you stroked me, your fingers moving upward. Mmmm ... I spread my legs slightly. They were trembling so much I thought I'd fall down."

"I asked you if you'd be more comfortable sitting on my lap. You nodded," Emily continued, breathing harder.