He was going to be so late and Penelope was going to absolutely throttle him. Morgan had promised to pick her up from the hospital on the day she was released, and had sworn he’d be there on time. Now, because of some stupid unsub that had decided to go on a killing rampage in the greater Washington area, he was most likely going to be late.
He swore as he pulled onto the road, cursing anyone and everyone in his path. That damn unsub was going to get a severe interrogation when he got Penelope home and settled in bed.
They’d been talking every day, he’d been to visit whenever he could. They were building a rapport between them, building back up to what their relationship had been. It surprised him how fast she’d forgiven him.
What still annoyed him, however, was the way he knew she wasn’t sure if he’d forgiven her.
It was a rebuilding relationship, but a twisted one, and though he had told her he loved her, he hadn’t repeated the words since. He wanted to make sure everything was good with both of them before speaking the words again, wanted to make sure she understood that he wasn’t saying the words because of his guilt. He wanted to make sure that the both understood exactly what was going on before he allowed himself to dive head first into what he’d wanted since his first conversation with her.
It took a while, but eventually Morgan made it to the hospital. He avoided the elevator, for personal and practical reasons, and took the stairs two and three at a time to get to her room. She sat on the bed, her bag at her feet, her legs dangling over the side. It was a comfort to see her wearing her usual colours even if they were in a stretchy skirt and flowing shirt.
“Hey there, Baby Girl,” he greeted, a wide smile spreading over his face. “I’m sorry I’m late.”
Garcia looked at him, carefully. “What’s going on, Gorgeous?”
“Washington had a serial killer.”
Garcia nodded. It was a downside to the job, having to be on call anytime, anywhere. Plus, he’d made it to the hospital to get her so that had to stand for something. Moreover, they’d hit the point in conversation where he had to say less and less, where she understood more and more from his words and actions. The short sentence said a lot, the mild apology in his eyes almost made her sigh.
They’d been dancing around each other even now, almost even more so than before. The baggage between them seemed to materialize out of one bullet, one moment that both of them wished they could take back but had never talked about. She knew him enough to know he kept apologizing through little things. She knew he knew her well enough to see the same thing in each smile and touch.
Something had to change.
Morgan took both of her hands, slowly pulling her to her feet and making sure she was stable before gripping one of her hands and her overnight bag. She stopped him, taking his other hand, bag and all. Her eyes were sincere and straight forward.
“We need to talk, Sweetness,” she said, eyes imploring him to understand where she was coming from.
His eyes searched hers for the reassurance he needed to be able to nod and continue through the halls, down the elevator “ there was no way he’d let her take the stairs while she was recovering “ and out into the parking lot. He made sure she was in safely and securely before jogging around to the driver’s side, hopping in and starting the engine.
He waited until they were on the road to speak. “Alright, Mama, let’s have this talk.”
Though the words had a light tone to them, Garcia wasn’t naïve enough to miss the protectiveness of the lilt. Her stomach churned with the words she had to say. They were either going to get her everything she wanted, or absolutely nothing at all. “Something needs to change, Derek.”
His hands curled marginally tighter on the steering wheel. “We need to stop apologizing to each other.”
Her grin was impish as she mentally smacked herself for thinking anything could be hidden from a profiler, and an extremely perceptive profiler at that. “Can we?”
He waited until they hit a red light to turn slightly in his seat to face her. He took in her face, still slightly pale but almost back to the rosy hue he was used to, her eyes, worried and apprehensive, but still as brown and beautiful as they’d ever been. His heart constricted at the tense muscles in her face, the wrinkles in her forehead that spoke volumes of her own internal turmoil. “Yeah.”
She smiled and could feel some of the tension drain out of her shoulders. “Good.”
“There’s a ‘but’ Baby Girl,” he warned as the light changed and he pulled through the intersection.
She chuckled humourlessly. “There’s always a ‘but’.”
“We have to talk about what happened, the shooting, your reaction, my stupidity…”
“Derek,” she started.
Morgan shook his head. “There’s a lot of ground to cover,” he said, switching gears slightly. “It’s going to be a long conversation.”
Garcia nodded. “I know,” she promised. “If I start to doze we’ll just make a note of where we are and pick it back up again later.”
“They’ve still got you on painkillers?” He thanked her and The Powers That Be for the minute reprieve while he tried to figure out exactly what to say to her.
“Yup,” she agreed happily. “Mild ones.” She pulled the bottle out of her purse and shook it at him. “Once these are gone, I get regular strength babies until I can wean myself off of those.”
Morgan nodded. “And work?”
“Two weeks at home. Then desk work, but my life is desk work.” The huge grin on her face spoke volumes as to how much she adored her job.
“We’re missing you, that’s for sure,” he said grinning back. “It’s not the same to call an official guy that won’t get into the questionable stuff like you.”
Garcia blushed slightly.
“And I gotta tell you, Princess, the job is not as much fun without you on the other end of the phone line.” His smile was the charming one she missed when he wasn’t around, even if she could usually hear it through the phone when he called.
They pulled up to her house and he hopped out, racing around the car to make sure she could get out of the car without pulling anything too badly. Her bag was in his hand as they made their way slowly up the walk.
Suddenly, she froze.
Hey Garcia
Yeah
I’ve been thinking about doing this all night.
"Garcia?"
The gun went off and all she could feel was a searing, blinding pain in her abdomen. She knew she had to do something, had to call someone, had to get herself somewhere, but her mind was busy focusing on other things.
It had been too good to be true.
She should have trusted her gut.
She shouldn’t have yelled at Derek.
“Baby Girl? Talk to me.”
Her knees gave out as she sank to the stairs part of her brain coaching her, encouraging her to get out her cell phone and call an ambulance, tell them she’d been shot. But she couldn’t seem to lift her fingers or to get her mind off of everything else.
Maybe she deserved this for not being more careful. She worked in the FBI, had access to every data file ever created, could hack into a sealed and expunged juvenile record. Why on earth had she not done the same for her date tonight? Why hadn’t she followed her gut?
Derek had been right and she’d yelled at him, potentially destroying everything, destroying every chance.
And she wasn’t even going to get a chance to apologize.
“Penelope!”
Her mind slammed back to the present, to the arms that were wrapped around her and the cool stone of the walkway under her legs. She’d collapsed with the force of the memory. It took her a few seconds to register that she was crying. A few more seconds told her Morgan was on the ground with her.
“It’s okay,” he soothed, rubbing her back, kissing her temple, murmuring whatever came to his mind.
She turned automatically into his chest, sobbing. He’d been the one she’d call when the nightmares woke her up at odd hours. He’d been the one to coach her through them, to remind her that she was alive and in one piece and they usually ended up talking about the most irrelevant things. He told her about his football playing days, about his younger sister’s prom where he scared her date bad enough that he’d returned her to the house ten minutes after prom ended. She listened raptly, the memories of the pain, the fear of dying and everything else fading under his smooth voice. He hung up when she fell asleep again.
Eventually, she’d calmed down enough to breathe normally and the tears had stopped for the time being. Gingerly, he helped her to her feet, wincing along with her when her hand went to her side. She heard him grumble something under his breath about unsubs and panic attacks as he walked her slowly up the stairs.
She hated being weak. She wasn’t weak. She saw some of the worst possible things a human could do to another human and she couldn’t even walk up her own front path to her house without freaking out.
“Pen, look at me, Hot Stuff.”
His eyes held an understanding that didn’t surprise her, but it made her feel guilty nonetheless. She looked away immediately but his hand came up under her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.
“These things happen,” he told her. “We both know that. You’re not any different than you were a month ago.”
“Derek…”
He shook his head vehemently. “We’ll get you inside and settled. Then, Princess, you and I are due for a long conversation.”