Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds and intend no copyright infringement.
~ for Sue ~
"You can read pretty much everything as a metaphor right now", Rossi told Hotch. "Don't over-interpret this."
"But the resemblance is striking", JJ agreed with Hotch.
"Keep on talking like this and I'm not going to eat it", Morgan told both of them. He was in a bad mood. Garcia lightly touched his hand.
They were all not in the best of moods, so shortly after the Emily/Doyle ordeal, and maybe they needed a time out from each other, at least on their free weekend. But Reid had invited them to dinner and he was the one they were worried about the most, so they had gathered at his place.
They had made it through appetizer and main course just fine, but what Reid had chosen for dessert was simply too much.
And it didn't help that Emily's cat was slinking around their legs either.
"You haven't started yet?" Reid came back from the kitchen and took in the sight of their still untouched plates. A heartbreaking look of disappointment appeared on his face. "Don't you like Baked Alaska?"
"We were waiting for you, son", Rossi said. "Sit down, we want to enjoy this together."
Reid relaxed and joined them at the table. "From a physics point of view, Baked Alaska is a highly interesting type of dessert. The meringue that encases the ice cream acts as a natural insulator, keeping the inner layer cool while the heat turns the outer one into a solid crust."
"And no one would ever guess what's underneath…", Morgan mused and Garcia kicked him, a lot less lightly than she had touched his hand.
"Don't do this", the look on her face said. "This is too sad." Now it was his turn to reach out for her hand.
A secret, kept underneath a well-built façade. It wasn't too difficult to see the parallels to Emily and her well-hidden past.
And not only her past, by the way… JJ and Hotch couldn't help but lock eyes. What were they doing… the others were hurting… a few simple words and all the pain would go away…
Reid looked at JJ expectantly, waiting for her to try his dessert. His face showed unmistakable signs of the grief he was still experiencing. How long would she be able to stand this sight before caving in?
And could maybe at least the cat stop prodding her ankle with its tiny nose?