Derek Morgan; 2007
There are few words to describe the heartache and utter terror of seeing someone you love in pain.
There are, however, a multitude of actions to show how incredibly proud you are of said friend.
Morgan, in the wake of Penelope’s return to the BAU after she was shot, decided to make sure she knew just how strong she was. And he decided to show her this with double chocolate chip cookies. Cookies that were currently spread out on the floor of the BAU’s small kitchenette.
“Holy motherfucking goddamn SHIT.”
“I sincerely hope your mother never heard you say that.”
Morgan spun around to see the smug face of one David Rossi leaning on the fridge, arms crossed and electing to ignore the dozen or so cookies surrounding the two men.
“The damn lid on this is broken.” Morgan said, throwing out an arm to gesture lazily at the plastic container on the counter.
Rossi raised an eyebrow, smirking as he bent down to pick up a rogue cookie. “These for Garcia?”
The younger man nodded but didn’t say anything more. It didn’t take a master profiler to guess who these cookies were for, and Rossi’s haughty attitude wasn’t needed right now. Rossi’s re-emergence into the BAU hadn’t gone as smoothly as Morgan suspected the other man had anticipated. There was an air of egotism to Rossi, although Morgan noted to himself that it was different to Gideon’s bouts of arrogance.
A flash of dull pain shot through him at the thought of Gideon. Not because of his departure per se, but at its nature. The death of someone he cared so deeply about. It was a risk of the job they all signed up for, but rarely did it manifest itself so cruelly.
Rossi cleared his throat, uncrossing his arms and making his way over to the small table. “I doubt you’re still going to serve them?”
Morgan looked him in the eye, challenging him. “Five minute rule, right?”
“I’m pretty sure it’s five seconds.”
There was humour in his words, and it wasn’t ill-intentioned. Morgan found himself relaxing slightly and eased himself into the chair on the opposite end of the table. For all his smarmy habits, Rossi was instrumental in helping Penelope after the shooting, and although Morgan knew he would be loathed to admit it, he was warming up to the idea of having a team.
“I just wanted to make sure she was settling in okay.”
Rossi raised an eyebrow. “She’s been back a week and a half.”
He promptly shut his mouth at Morgan’s glare, wiry smile twisting into something that resembled a frown. “You can’t still be blaming yourself? Garcia doesn’t need you moping around like that.”
Morgan wanted to snap at the older man. How would he know what his baby girl needs? He stopped himself, however, when he realised that this was Rossi’s attempt at reaching out.
“Garcia needed cookies, but now they’re probably ruined.”
There was a twinkle in Rossi’s eyes. “Oh, I’d say they’re definitely ruined. But don’t worry, Hotch and I will get some more.”
“What?”
“What?”
The second incredulous question came from Hotch himself, who had just walked into the room to replenish his coffee cup.
“Aaron and I will pick up some cookies in the store on the way back from O’Keefe’s.”
“Why are we going to O’Keefe’s, why are we picking up cookies and more importantly why is my bullpen completely devoid of my agents?”
Morgan couldn’t help but stare wide-eyed at Rossi, who he suspected might be going slightly insane.
“We’re going to O’Keefe’s to reserve a table for tonight because it’ll be busy when the game’s on. We’re getting cookies for Garcia. Your capable agents are holed up in Garcia’s lair giggling like schoolchildren last time I checked. Come on, Aaron. Traffic is hell this time in the afternoon.”
With that Rossi took off at a brisk walk to the elevators, Hotch trailing after him mumbling something about missing Gideon, and Morgan took a second to wonder just what the hell happened.
Deciding against trying to psychoanalyze David Rossi, Morgan dumped the rest of the ruined cookies and made his way down to Garcia’s office, noting on his way there that Hotch and Rossi were right: There were no agents anywhere to be found.
Prentiss and Reid’s desks were left abandoned, paperwork scattered over coffee stained and ink marked wood. Passing by JJ’s office he noticed that it too was empty, which was highly unusual on their paperwork days, as this was when JJ usually sorted through their perspective cases.
Soon enough Morgan found himself standing outside Garcia’s headquarters, and sure enough, he could hear the sound of barely muffled laughter emanating from inside. He simply stood there for a moment, relishing the pure and uncomplicated joy that seemed to fill the air. He had hated seeing Penelope so downtrodden, and although he knew that her recovery from this was going to be arduous, he had faith in her eternal optimism. JJ and Emily’s laughs seemed to merge together, almost harmonising with each other, and although he felt guilty for thinking it, Morgan could hardly imagine the BAU without Prentiss anymore. Elle’s departure still hurt him, but all he could do now was have faith that she had moved on to bigger, better, and safer things. Most surprising to hear were the high-pitched giggles that formed Reid’s laugh. Morgan felt another large smile force itself onto his face at the sound. Reid had been so twitchy, so withdrawn lately. He had almost forgotten the sound of his laughter.
Not content to wait any longer, he decided to forego knocking and instead pushed open the door unannounced, freezing in surprise at the sight that awaited him.
His baby girl was sitting on the floor, back against a cabinet, holding onto two knitting needles. What looks like a thick purple scarf pooled around her crossed legs, before making its way over to JJ, who was sat across from her, leaning on Emily’s legs. A section of the purple monstrosity was wrapped around JJ’s neck warmly, giving her cheeks a red tinge from the heat. Emily was perched atop a counter and held the midsection of Garcia’s scarf while her legs supported JJ’s back. Morgan’s eyes followed the scarf once more, until his eyes landed on Reid, who was somehow tucked into a corner on Garcia’s desk, underneath two large computer screens. The kid was holding the end of the scarf and used it as a pillow for his head as he leant against the wall, a tired grin on his face. A sudden realisation came upon Morgan, and he recalled that Garcia had been knitting this scarf for almost two years now and was very nearly done.
“Derek! Thank God! Please help support the first third of my purple beauty.”
Penelope pointed to where she wanted him to hold up her scarf, and with a massive grin, he swanned over to where she directed him, lowering himself onto the ground and nudging Garcia’s leg with his in a silent check-up. She smiled brightly at him, and Morgan wondered, not for the first time, if any of the criminals they chase after on a daily basis would dare do what they do if they had a Penelope Garcia in their lives.
“So what were you guys laughing at when I came in?”, he asked, eyebrows raised in mock innocence.
“That’s for us to laugh at and you to figure out”, Emily quipped, as she ran a hand over JJ’s hair unconsciously. Morgan couldn’t help but notice how JJ leaned into the subtle touch.
“Pretty boy, you’ll take my side, right? Don’t leave me on the wayside.”
Reid, who had been fiddling with the cuffs of his shirt, looked up with a slight start. He grinned and said that it was Garcia’s rules in Garcia’s lair, and then the whole group was laughing again. Morgan didn’t want to think about how the girls and Reid were making more jokes than normal because nobody could bear the look of sadness that came over Garcia’s face when no one was looking. Morgan especially didn’t want to think about the reason why Reid wore long sleeve shirts even though Garcia’s office was well heated.
So Morgan thought about something else instead.
“Oh! I almost forgot. Baby girl, you’re gonna have two more visitors in a few minutes once Mom and Dad come back from the store.”
The ensuing confused laughter and then joyful laughter after his explanation warmed his heart, and as Morgan looked around this cosy room, full of damaged, impossibly strong people and an insanely long purple scarf, he couldn’t help but feel like recovery was in the air.