Story: Backseat of a Greyhound Bus
Chapter: God Has A Funny Sense of Timing
Pairing: Penelope Garcia & Derek Morgan
Summary: "What do you know about how she was recruited to the F.B.I.?" Penelope Garcia is everyone's best friend. So how come nobody knows where she goes every weekend since starting at the B.A.U. 8 years ago? Emotions run high when Penelope's life is put under a microscope and dissected until every last skeleton in her closet is unearthed. AU, loosely based on Sara Evans' song "Backseat of a Greyhound Bus."
Rating: T, although rating may increase in later chapters.
Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or any of its characters…unfortunately.
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End of September, 1996
"I little knew that morning, that God would call your name. In life I loved you dearly, in death I do the same. It broke my heart to lose you, you did not go alone. Part of me went with you, the day God called you home. You left me beautiful memories. Your love is still my guide. And though we cannot see you, you're always by our sides. Our family chain is broken, and nothing seems the same, but as God calls us one by one the chain will link again." *
A persistent drizzle cloaked the California cemetery in a thick blanket of mist, adding to the already somber atmosphere. There had been no wake, and the funeral was only sparsely attended. A handful of people listened to the priest's words about the deceased, whom he'd never even met.
It didn't make sense; her parents weren't even religious. She'd argued with her brothers for many hours over the proceedings, but it had been an exercise in futility. She's recommended that they simply have their parents cremated and hold a small ceremony, with just the five of them, to scatter their ashes into the wind over the large, open field behind the barn. She believed her parents would've liked to be as free-spirited in their death as they had been in their life. Her brothers believed she was being greedy. They were set on having a "proper" ceremony, "just like everybody else." But if truth be told, they didn't have the money to be just like everybody else.
When holy water was sprinkled upon each casket, she swore it seared the finish. And when the hired priest spoke of her parents' lives, it seemed hollow. Nothing about this day felt right, especially them being gone.
Eighteen year-old Penelope Marie Garcia stood approximately ten feet behind the assembled crowd, under the sheltering canopy of an ancient maple. Her parents were tree huggers, correction; had been tree huggers, especially in their hippy days. She found a sentimental comfort in the company of the large tree. It felt almost as though her parents, not the tree's thick bark, were supporting her grief-ridden body.
As the service came to an end, and the caskets were lowered into the ground, a golden maple leaf mimicked the heartbreaking path of a lone tear that escaped Penelope's eye; both lightly kissing her pregnant stomach before gracefully settling upon the grass beside her bare feet.
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* A slightly manipulated version of Ron Tranmer's poem, "The Broken Chain"
Author's Note: A short beginning for sure, but I hope you will come back for more as the story progresses. All comments are greatly appreciated. All the best ~ Fragile Serenity