Disclaimer: I own nothing...

A/N: It's been forever since I updated, but I wanted to do a little something after last night's episode! It's an ONEshot response, so enjoy!

The White Queen

I've sat here all evening, nursing a glass of Scotch. I've not even finished the first one and it's been almost two hours. I've just been thoughtful, staring on as my mind ticked over the previous case. I'm not the first to call Penelope 'Baby Girl' and I never thought it would sting quite so bad. It didn't when she told me, I laughed it off and she started to ramble on in sexual explicitly about something else.

But now it was hitting me hard. Our one thing that makes us unique, that gives me a little stake of claim isn't as unique as I thought. It makes her more than a little mine – or so I thought. I've never been possessive, but where Penelope's concerned, I'm wholeheartedly, unequivocally in over my head.

"Hey buddy," the bartender comes over to me. "Time to finish your drink. I want to shut up."

I nod my head and down my drink and take off. That one gulp of brown liquor hit the back of my throat and causes me to have all the courage in the world. Penelope Garcia will be mine by the night's end. I will not lose her. I want her to pine after me in years to come and realise I'm still hers. I want her to wake up every day feeling safe and secure and like she's invincible because she gave me a chance to love her. I want Shane out of her heart forever.

I drive to her apartment calmly, trying to tell myself I'll get nowhere if I bust in there all guns blazing. I need answers and I need the outcome I want. This week has been a wakeup call and I won't let her fall through my grasp like finely ground sand.

But when I make it to her door, my demeanour defuses and I'm stood paralysed. Taking in a deep breath, I need to do this or forever lose out, so I knock. My knuckles rap upon the wooden panel of her door and within moments it opens to reveal a tired looking Penelope.

"Morgan?" she asks perplexed and looks down at her current attire. I laugh at the kitten pyjama bottoms and FBI jacket she's working. Wordlessly she steps back, allowing me access and I cease the moment.

Rubbing the back of my neck with my hand, I sigh and look to her. "What did you mean I'm not the first person to call you 'Baby Girl', Penelope?"

I watch her face falter, softening under the intensity of my question. "It's bugging you, isn't it?" I watch as her lips curve into a small playful grin and she giggles. "Derek," she reaches out and I snap away.

"This is serious," I counter, not willing to play with my heart. I want to know if another man called her baby girl and if she loved it more. The way her face drops of all positive emotions shows me I have it all wrong.

"My father," she tells me delicately. "It's my only memory I have of him before he left. He used to always call me it before kissing goodnight." She looks to me, her eyes heavy and hooded. "After the sexual harassment seminar, call me crazy, but I felt our relationship mean more." I'm trying to read her, but for once I'm blind. "We were suddenly under threat from the dragon lady and I wasn't embarrassed about the name calling and flirting, Hot Stuff. That was a lie." She pauses, her mouth opening and shutting, but she doesn't speak what she wants. "It doesn't matter, I guess."

"Yes, it does," I say as I step forward, my hand reaching for her chin. "What is it, Penelope?" My heart clenches as her eyes water.

"I'm scared everyone knows the one thing we seem to not admit," she murmurs, unable to look me in the eyes. It worries me when she ends up like this. When she traps herself away, not letting me in.

I won't have her close her off from. "Which is?"

Now her eyes fill with terror, consuming her whole right before my eyes. "H-how madly in love I am with you." She rolls her eyes, groaning as she pulls away for me. She wipes her eyes heavily and turns away, her back staying to me. If only she knew how my heart was soaring right now. How far up into the sky it's shot with happiness. I cannot believe she's just admitted to me what I've wanted to hear. "I don't want to be the embarrassment of your life, Derek." She finally turns back. "I know how people see us, it's hard not to. Shane even questioned it. You and I don't belong. I know people see us flirting and laugh. It is laughable. I'm laughable."

"No," I whisper, closing the distance. "You are not." I hate how she deems herself some days. She's so confident and believing in herself, but there are moments even she trips up. "I would class myself as lucky, Baby Girl. I do class myself as lucky. Why would I ever be embarrassed of the woman who's supported me, guided me, encouraged me and loved me since the first time we met?"

She chuckles at my comment. "I was a bitch to you on our first meeting, Eyebrows." Her face, again, softens towards me as the memory hits us both. "I was disdainful and bitchy."

"I like that memory." I don't elaborate upon my statement.

"Why?" she asks me, her brow furrowing profusely at the claim I just made.

"Because I love who you became," I speak as I step forward, my hands going over her waist to pull her close to me. I can feel how staccato her breathing is, how difficult she is finding it to catch up on the moment we have here. So I decided to bring her up to speed. "You're my white queen."

I see how the contrast between her old life and her new one becomes abundantly clear to her. She's not been 'The Black Queen' for so long and I will never let her believe she is. The woman before me is who she's always dreamt of being and I know she appreciates being given the chance to be her.

"I love you, Penelope Garcia, and I want you to know, you're safe with me."

"I know I am," she whispers, there's an ounce of uncertainty in her voice, but I plan to kiss that away.

"Good," I murmur softly as my hand glides up her cheek, her eyes close, her lips part as her breaths roll out in pants, I seal the moment with a delicate, passionate kiss.

I've got my queen, my baby girl. What else could I possibly need?