Disclaimer: I think it's safe to say that anything you recognize is not mine and sadly never will be.
Summary: It was a particularly difficult case, but the work waits. Rise and shine, it's another day at the Bureau.
The Work Waits
He stripped down to his boxers and undershirt and fell asleep on top of the covers. He would be woken the next morning by bright sunlight creeping up the horizon and through the trees into the window he hadn't thought to close and cover. The alarm would sit silently on the night-stand for the first time in years while the analog display ticks its way farther and farther past the hour it would have sounded had its owner remembered to set it. Eventually, his phone would give a half-hearted ring, vibrating enough to topple off the edge onto the dull brown carpet, then turn itself off as the battery dies.
He will take his time getting out of bed, unsure of how he had kicked the sheets clear off the mattress and left the blankets on top undisturbed, and stumble blindly into the bathroom with sudden urgency, not bothering to shut the door. He'll wash his hands and gently rub his sore eyes and studiously avoid the small square mirror above the sink. Making his way into the kitchen, he'd trip over a dirt-covered brown dress shoe he couldn't remember taking off and swear once or twice under his breath. The uncharacteristic cursing would continue louder at finding cold, wet, used coffee grinds in the filter basket. All he wanted was a fresh pot of strong, high-octane coffee- a full pot of coffee- and to not have to make it himself.
Eyes only half open, he would add an extra scoop of his favourite dark roast to the brew and flick the switch, wondering vaguely if he'd picked up any more sugar in the last week like he'd meant to. He couldn't be certain he'd be able to hold back the tears of frustration, if he hadn't.
Sitting at the table, he'd doze a little watching the coffee drip in the dark; the sun wouldn't reach this side of the apartment for hours yet. The shrill ring of the cordless sitting in the living room will startle him awake, aching body nearly jerking out of the uncomfortable wooden chair. He'd be tempted to just not go in to work at all, that day, going so far as to ignore the phone, knowing it could only be one of his teammates calling. They were the only people he knew that ever called him- probably the only people that even knew the numbers. The only people that gave a damn whether he showed up in the morning. The only people left that gave a damn at all, where he was concerned.
Giving himself a shake, he would cast off those dark thoughts before they got any worse and grab the largest mug he could find, fixing a perfect cup of joe to start another never-ending day; half sugar, half coffee, and a touch of creamer if he left enough room. He'll drink it in record time, ignoring the way it scalds his mouth and throat to inhale it as he drags himself to the front door to retrieve the newspaper. By the time he returns to the kitchen, tossing the periodical onto the table without a second glance, he'd be staring down into the bottom of an empty coffee cup forlornly. The second would go just as quickly, and he'd only slow down for the third after choking and sputtering on a mouthful of sugary caffeine gone down the wrong pipe.
He'll grab a quick shower and a hasty shave, finding that the more he wakes up, the less patience he has. He'll blame the day before. The case. The monster of a man and the barn in the back woods of a backward farm town buried far back in the past and the stench of the blood and the victims... the men. Those men that looked so much like him-
'God no. Don't think that. Ever. You can't blame the victims...'
He has to shake it off. Get dressed. Go to work and write his reports, be called into the boss-man's office for a pep talk and receive the inevitable appointment with the in-housetherapist, reassure everyone he's rested and fine and ready for the weekend. Endure the good natured teasing of his partner, smile, and pretend it's just another day at the Bureau.
A/N: I wrote this on a whim, deliberately choosing not to name my subject at any time in the hopes of nailing the character through behaviour alone. How'd I do? Honest feedback makes good karma...