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The auditorium buzzed with conversation as former students filtered into their seats.
Backstage, JJ adjusted the strap of her costume and took a slow breath.
"You nervous?"
She turned to find Garcia grinning from the wings.
"You've testified in front of Congress," Garcia teased. "You've stared down serial killers. And *this* is what has you worried?"
JJ laughed.
"This is different."
It really was.
Before college, before the FBI, before everything, dance had been her entire world. Returning to perform for her high school's alumni gala felt like stepping into another version of herself.
Emily appeared beside Garcia.
"Just remember, if you forget the choreography, improvise."
"That's terrible advice."
"It's excellent advice."
The stage manager called five minutes.
JJ smiled.
"Wish me luck."
"You don't need luck," Emily said. "You just need music."
---
The lights dimmed.
The first piano notes echoed through the auditorium.
JJ stepped into the spotlight.
The years melted away.
Every turn, every leap, every extension felt familiar, as though her body had remembered something her mind had nearly forgotten.
There was no profiling.
No paperwork.
No violence.
Just movement.
Just joy.
When the music swelled, she spun across the stage with effortless grace, earning an audible gasp from the audience.
Garcia leaned toward Emily.
"She never told us she was *that* good."
"I don't think she wanted us to know."
The final note lingered.
JJ held her last pose.
Silence.
Then the auditorium erupted in applause.
She smiled through tears as she bowed.
---
Nearly everyone had left by the time JJ slipped out a side door, bouquet after bouquet balanced in her arms.
The cool evening air felt wonderful after the hot stage lights.
"You missed one."
She froze.
That voice.
Slowly, she turned.
Spencer Reid stood near the old brick entrance, wearing a navy suit and holding a bouquet of white lilies and pale blue hydrangeas.
He smiled shyly.
"I figured carrying one bouquet would be easier than six."
JJ stared at him.
"I thought you were in Switzerland."
"I was."
"And now you're here."
"I caught the first flight after my lecture ended."
He shrugged, almost embarrassed.
"I didn't want to miss your performance."
"You did."
"I know."
His smile faded.
"The flight was delayed."
JJ laughed softly.
"You flew across an ocean anyway."
"You once drove four hours to watch me give a lecture on cognitive bias."
"I brought snacks."
"You did."
"And color-coded notes."
"You definitely did."
She looked at the flowers.
"They're beautiful."
"I remembered your favorite colors."
Her eyes softened.
"You remembered."
"I remember everything."
For a moment neither of them spoke.
The sounds of the gala drifted faintly through the open doors behind them.
"I saw the end," Spencer said quietly.
"The last minute."
JJ tilted her head.
"Was it worth the flight?"
He looked at her as though the answer had never been in doubt.
"It was worth crossing the Atlantic."
She felt tears prick her eyes.
"You always know what to say."
"I've actually been rehearsing this conversation for... statistically speaking... several years."
She laughed.
"I believe that."
He took one cautious step closer.
"I also realized something while I was sitting on the plane."
"What's that?"
"I've spent a lot of time assuming there would always be another chance to tell people how much they mean to me."
He swallowed.
"I don't want to keep making that assumption."
JJ looked at him for a long moment.
"What are you saying, Spence?"
"I'm saying..."
He smiled nervously.
"...that when I watched you dance, you looked happier than I've seen you in a long time."
She nodded.
"I was."
"And seeing you happy reminded me..."
He took a slow breath.
"...that I've been in love with you for a very long time."
The world seemed to go quiet.
JJ stepped closer until only inches separated them.
"You picked quite a night to tell me."
"I know."
"You couldn't have called?"
"I had approximately eleven different speeches prepared."
"And?"
"I forgot all of them."
She laughed through the tears now slipping down her cheeks.
"Good."
He frowned.
"Good?"
"I like this version better."
She gently took the bouquet from his hands and set it on a nearby bench.
Then she reached up and rested her hand against his cheek.
"You know," she whispered, "I used to wonder if we'd ever stop missing our timing."
His heart pounded.
"And?"
"I think we're finally right on time."
She closed the distance between them.
Their kiss was soft and unhurried, years of friendship, loss, and unwavering trust folded into a single moment.
When they finally pulled apart, Spencer rested his forehead against hers.
"I should've done that years ago."
"Probably."
"Were you waiting for me?"
JJ smiled.
"I was hoping you'd figure it out."
He laughed quietly.
"I usually do."
She slipped her hand into his.
"So... Professor Reid."
"Yes?"
"Next time, try not to fly across the world just to miss my performance."
"I'll aim for the dress rehearsal."
She grinned.
"It's a date."
Together, they walked back toward the glowing auditorium, flowers in one hand and each other's hands in the other, feeling—for the first time in a long while—that they were exactly where they were meant to be.