One for Sorrow

The words of the case files were swimming in front of his eyes, and the pounding in his head may as well have been the drum corps from the Macy's day parade. He glanced at the clock. His eyes widened slightly when he realized it was nearly 10 o'clock at night. It was probably time to pack it in for the day. He rubbed the sleep that had accumulated from his eyes and looked out into the bullpen. Only the emergency lights were still on, and the sound of a vacuum could be heard off in the distance somewhere, but all of the agents had left hours ago. He stood and began packing away his case files, mentally sorting what still needed to be completed tonight and what could wait until the morning. Pulling his coat from the small closet, he turned off the lights and locked the door.

The elevator deposited him on his floor in the parking garage and he started walking to his SUV in the half light of the industrial fluorescent bulbs, only looking up from his email when he reached to pull his keys from his pocket.

He paused, frowning as he spotted Prentiss's car parked a few spots down and on the opposite side from him. He couldn't see from where he was standing whether or not she was in the car, but remembering that he hadn't seen her bag or coat at her desk when he was leaving, he thought he'd better check.

If she wasn't in the car, he didn't know where she'd be. And the team had had too many close calls for him to be comfortable leaving if her car and her desk were both abandoned at the office.

He'd have to call Garcia to track her.

And that was not a conversation that he wanted to have tonight.

Realizing that he was getting ahead of himself – after all, she might be in the car, stranded and waiting for Triple A – he took a few more steps towards her vehicle.

As the driver's side came into view, he could see a figure behind the wheel. Squinting a little, he made out her dark hair and the red sweater that she had worn today. He let out a breath that he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

But wait. Was she…she was.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Prentiss cry, let alone the type of sobbing she was clearly doing now. He moved slightly into the shadows, as much to gain a better vantage as to keep from being seen.

Whatever had her this upset had to be bad.

He felt his heart breaking a little more with each tear that splashed onto her trousers. He wanted to go to her, to comfort her. Instead he stood, her silent guardian as she let herself break into the night, took a breath, and put herself together once again. He watched, motionless as she wiped the remnants of her grief from her face. He dared not move until after she had started her car and driven away.

He considered for a moment going after her, but knew she'd be mortified that he had seen the momentary fragmentation of her façade and angry that he had watched the overflow of her humanity from the shadows.

No, he'd continue on to his own home tonight. Walking back to his SUV, he brushed the remains of their unknowingly shared heartbreak from his shoulders, intent on finishing the remaining priority files with a drink.

Maybe that Scotch Dave had gotten him for his birthday.