Still Pink
By Mele
Disclaimer: Not mine, no rights, no money, just some non profit fun. My first attempt at a Criminal Minds story. A one shot epilog to the season ending "Demons".
"You saved my life."
"Thank you for saying that."
"Thank you for doing it." – Criminal Minds, "Demons"
The digital clock numbers glowed eerily in the silent apartment: 3:16 a.m. Still far too early to actually get up, but Spencer Reid knew his sleep for this night was officially ended. He'd awakened gasping for breath from a dream where the unsub outdrew Garcia, and in Reid's fading sight he'd witnessed the effervescent tech take a round to the chest.
Yes, further sleep was definitely out of the question.
Spencer got up slowly, the myriad aches and pains from the past couple days making themselves felt in a variety of unpleasant ways. A couple of ibuprofen, the strongest thing the young man was willing to take, worked to knock things back to a tolerable level. A cup of coffee, liberally sugared of course, helped provide a feeling of normalcy. Standing at the window and staring down at the spot where he'd watched Alex take a late cab out of his life, his thoughts turned to another female teammate, who he hoped was still willing to stay. Penelope Garcia was not the first person who came to mind when Spencer thought of heroic, lifesaving actions, but she'd come through in spades in that hospital room.
Her initial panicky reaction had faded quickly, giving way to apparent acceptance of what had happened, probably helped by the fact the unsub had not been fatally wounded. Still, Reid knew the tech still faced debriefing, reports, probably an internal investigation. None of which would be easy for the sensitive woman. He and Morgan in particular would be called upon to support her decisions and Spencer had no qualms about stating unequivocally that Penelope Garcia had saved his life. Period.
Thoughts of Garcia led him to wondering how she was faring with the dreams; he still remembered his first time shooting an unsub, and it was not a pleasant memory. It had taken weeks for the dreams to abate, and to this day he still had them on the odd occasion. And he'd been trained and certified for that eventuality. Penelope had not. The feeling was strong that she could use a friend right now. Usually she would turn to Morgan for that, but the other agent was now in a relationship and not as available to comfort his 'baby girl' as freely as he used to. Pouring his coffee into a travel mug the young man hurried down, grabbing the keys to his rarely used car on the way.
During the short drive to Garcia's apartment, he decided on a course of action. He'd knock very softly on the door. If she was awake and troubled, she'd check the door and likely let him in. If she was peacefully asleep he'd head back on home. Satisfied with the plan, he hurried thought the courtyard where a few years ago Garcia had been found critically wounded. Suppressing a shudder at that particular memory he entered the code the whole team now had, and let himself in the building and up to her door.
He knocked softly, listening carefully for movement beyond the door. He was sure he heard the soft sound of footsteps, and the fine hairs at the back of his neck stood at attention at the sensation of being observed through the peephole. Mustering a slight smile he looked directly at the spot and mouthed 'Let me in?' A moment later the door opened and Garcia, disheveled and heavy eyed, greeted him.
"Spencer, what's wrong? Did something happen? Is there a case?" she asked, her voice lowered in deference to the early hour and sleeping neighbors behind the closed doors. She ushered him into the apartment. He noticed right off a still steaming cup on the small table by the easy chair, and he knew his instincts had been right.
"No, nothing's wrong, no case, I was just…thinking about you. Worried. Wondering if you were, you know, okay with all that happened," he said diffidently, not completely sure what to say now that he was here.
"Well, sure, I mean, I did what I had to do right? Just grabbed that gun and shot someone and now he's a patient in that hospital and my karma is like totally screwed, but no worries, I'm fine as can be, right? That's what FBI agents do, right? Want some tea? Tea is better than coffee you know, at least herbal tea is. Peppermint is my favorite now, I'll get us some," she rambled, wandering into the kitchen like a Technicolor clad ghost in the soft lamp light.
"Um, yeah, tea would be good, I guess. And you know that he came through surgery fine and is expected to fully recover, right?" Spencer replied, taking a seat on a chair by the small kitchenette.
"Yeah, yeah, I know, but … well…its not like I didn't try to kill him, you know? I didn't aim to miss, so to speak. Derek has always told me that if you are in danger, if firing the gun is what you have to do, you shoot to kill, not wound. And that's what I did, he's just lucky I'm a lousy shot," Penelope replied, handing over a steaming cup of tea and ushering her unexpected guest back into the living room.
"And I'm lucky you're that good a shot," Reid countered, his earnest eyes never wavering from hers. "I'll say it again: you saved my life."
"And that is the one bit of comfort I can take in the whole mess. How can I regret what I did when the result is you surviving? It's like, if I'm upset about shooting that guy, I'm saying I'm upset you survived. And I'm not, I'm happy you are okay, I would never want to see you hurt, or God forbid die, again."
"Again?"
"Giddeon and I watched you die when Tobias Hankel had you. The others, they saw the results and when he resuscitated you. But Gideon and me, we saw him beat you and we saw you die. I will never forget that as long as I live. I still dream about it sometimes. I just…I just can't have another memory of you being dead. I might never sleep again," she said, tears standing in the brown eyes.
Reid came over and knelt by Garcia's chair, taking her hands in his. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry you have had to go through this. I wish I could do something to make it better for you."
"I just don't want to be that person who can shoot someone…kill someone. It's not who my parents raised me to be."
"And you are not. As far as I'm concerned, you are still pink. You will forever be pink. Nothing else is possible."
"Pink?" she queried, her brows raised in confusion.
"Oh, it's just something from…long ago." Reid confessed, coloring slightly as he retired back to his chair.
"And what…I'm sorry….what does being 'pink' have to do with anything?" Garcia asked.
"It's…when I was 12 my mom and I ended up living in this kinda dumpy apartment building. Best we could afford; Dad's business had some sort of problem then and we didn't get as much support as usual. Anyway this single mom lived across the hall and her kid rode the bus with me. He was a first grader and I was in high school, but because we were so remote we shared a bus. And his mom paid me to take care of him from when we got home until just after five when she got off work. His name was Dalton, and we had to almost run home so he could see his favorite show."
"What was that?" Penelope asked almost despite herself.
"Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers," he replied, looking a bit embarrassed. "I'd check in quick with my mom while he watched that, then would make sure he did his homework before his mom got home. Made sure dinner was ready and everything. Then I'd go home and cook for Mom and do any homework I had left. Really, it worked out great since I had time to make sure Mom had a good dinner and I cleaned up before I had to go to bed. And the extra money came in handy. Dalton was a great kid, I didn't mind watching him at all."
"What does that have to do with being pink?" Penelope wondered.
"One day, Dalton, he showed me a poster his mom had gotten him. Of the Power Rangers while in their 'morphed' uniforms but with their helmets off. And I noticed something. The red, black, blue and yellow rangers all had the same uniform: a one piece body suit. But the Pink Ranger had a two piece suit: the top was fitted, and had a hem that made it look like it had a skirt, over tights. The thing was, the Yellow Ranger was a girl too, I asked Dalton why the difference. Why did the Pink Ranger have a girlish outfit? And he told me that Trini, the Yellow Ranger, knew Kung Fu, always wore pants, and could fight as good as the boys even without being morphed But, Kimberly was a total girlish character, she could sort of fight but it was mostly gymnastics moves, not any sort of martial arts and she always wore frilly, flowery dresses. So when Trini morphed she became a boy, while Kimberly remained a girl. I sort of understood his reasoning, and it applies to you. No matter what you see, no matter what you do, the core of your personality is light and bright and sparkly, like the things you surround yourself with." He looked down at his hands, a little embarrassed for some reason he didn't quite understand.
"I'm 'light, bright and sparkly'?" Garcia queried, eyebrows raised over mischievous eyes. A barely suppressed grin dimpled her cheeks and she was close to losing the fight not to laugh.
"Well, that's how you seem to me. Maybe we've never mentioned it, but sometimes when we're in the middle of a case, when things are grim and dire, and we call you and get one of your patented comical greetings and lively commentary, I can see the team's expressions lighten, if only for a few moments. It helps, more than you possibly know. It helps remind us of the good in the world, the good that exists despite the unparalleled capacity human beings seem to have for hurting each other."
"Aw, that's sweet. Thank you. It helps, it really does. Though I don't think I'll ever feel quite the same, knowing I can actually take a gun and shoot someone. I don't know how to reconcile that to who I am, who I want to be," she said haltingly, the brief moment of humor over.
"It must be my day to allude to strange, obscure pop culture references," Reid began hesitantly.
"Stranger than Mighty Morphin Power Rangers?" Penelope countered, with a quirked eyebrow. "Why do I find that hard to believe?"
"How does Star Trek sound?" he grinned.
"Like a cheesy, overacted blast from the 60's," she replied with a smile of her own.
"In the episode 'The Enemy Within' a transporter accident results in Kirk being duplicated. The first 'Kirk' to appear is seemingly normal, if a little less decisive than usual. The second Kirk, who no one sees arrive, appears to be evil. Assulting crew members, trying to rape a yeoman, lashing out at everyone. They finally capture this 'evil' Kirk, but in the meantime they find the 'good' Kirk is…well… weak. Can't make decisions, is torn with uncertainty. Actually no more fit to command the starship than his 'evil' half. Spock points out that all humans have these two halves to their personalities: the 'good' – loving, compassionate, able to empathize, kind - and the 'evil' – selfish, hot tempered, lustful, intemperate. The thing is, the 'evil' side is what lends strength to the 'good' side. For instance, kindness without a bit of selfishness would result in the person being completely overwhelmed by trying to help everyone to the point they would become so overwhelmed they cannot actually help anyone at all. The secret is making sure the 'good' side has dominance and controls the 'evil' side, utilizing the strength it provides and curbing the urges to do wrong. For the majority of people that's how it works. In the end Kirk had to embrace his 'evil' half and allow them to reassemble his two halves into one, even as he was disgusted and horrified at what that half of him had done, had tried to do. Did that make any sense at all?"
"Yeah, yeah, it did. All I have to do is think of love without a smidge of lust to know what you are getting at," she quipped with a wink, then an outright giggle when the young man blushed.
"I'll take your word on that," he mumbled, swallowing the last of his tea. "Any chance you have any coffee?"
"Are you kidding? With the guests I get? Plus, while tea IS better for you, I do love my morning cups of coffee. I'll put on a pot, sit tight," she admonished him, hurrying into the kitchenette and pulling a large bag of high end coffee out of the refrigerator.
Spencer sat back, feeling more relaxed now that Garcia seemed to feel better. He glanced around, noticing more knickknacks and decorations adorned the space than even from a year before. His mind drifted back to a conversation he and Morgan had a couple of months before during an hour long drive…
"Did I actually see Garcia wearing cat ears yesterday?" Reid asked, turning his attention from the passing scenery to his friend. "What's with that?"
"It takes a little more these days," Morgan commented.
"More what?"
"More…of her special mojo, I guess you'd say. More of the pretty, silly, colorful things she surrounds herself with to keep our dark world at bay. She sees more now, much more, and it's harder work for her to keep the light that is her soul burning bright. Mama refuses to give in to the dark," he commented with obvious pride.
"So that's what all those…things….are for? All the odd stuff in her office, in her apartment?"
"Yep. Think of them as her version of books," the older man grinned.
"Books?"
"You gonna try and claim your apartment isn't chock full of books? Really?"
"Well, no. I mean, yes, I have a large quantity of books, but I don't see the connection."
"What do you do when you get home after a tough case? Do you perhaps read a book or five?" Morgan asked with a quirk of a smile.
"Yes, it helps me relax," the younger agent explained.
"It helps you ESCAPE. And I'm guessing the worse the case the more you read. Am I right?" Seeing Reid's thoughtful nod, Derek continued. Makes sense, really. Well, seeing her things, her representations of things innocent, happy and bright, helps Penelope feel that the world is still a good place to be. We all have our escapes, be it relationships, drink, writing, running, whatever. You and Garcia are actually very much alike in that you are not cynical yet, not jaded. You both have found ways to maintain an amazing amount of seeming innocence even while dealing with the worst humanity has to offer. And if Baby Girl wearing cat ears helps her maintain that attitude, well I for one have nothing negative to say about it."
Reid sat back, pondering all his friend had said as the miles rolled smoothly by on that blustery afternoon…
"I'll let you sweeten it yourself, I almost go into diabetic shock just looking at that much sugar," Garcia announced, setting a mug of coffee and the sugar container on the table by Reid's chair. Despite her comment, she added a small plate with three of her special, homemade cookies beside the mug, and then settled down with her own steaming cup. Before she could even make a comment, a soft knock came at the front door.
"Oh, for Heaven's sake, I go for weeks with no visitors, then have two before six a.m.? Really?" she grumbled without malice as she rose to check. Looking back at the watching Reid, she smirked and released the locks to admit Derek Morgan.
"I came to see how my Baby Girl is doing this morning," he announced, giving her a warm hug before spying her guest watching them.
"Pretty Boy, what are you doing here? Did the doctors' release instructions say you should be wandering around the city before the sun's even up?" he asked with a frown.
"I don't recall any restriction forbidding visiting a friend. Besides it is close and I have cookies," he grinned, pointing to his plate.
"Well, we may need to check your dietary restrictions, those may be contraband," Morgan mock growled, moving forward only to be intercepted by Garcia with a cup of coffee in one hand and two cookies in the other.
"Boys, if you can't play nice, you can't come visit. Here, Morgan, drink your coffee and eat your cookies and no fighting," she admonished him, her eyes sparkling behind her glasses.
Morgan took a seat then pointed to his fellow agent with a frown. "How come he gets three cookies, and I only get two?" he demanded of Penelope.
"Because he's too thin and he has a bandage on his neck," she explained serenely.
"I got shot too," Morgan protested, pointing to his still bandaged arm. "That should be worth another cookie."
"Oh, for…." She mumbled whatever she had to say as she disappeared into the kitchen, emerging with a third cookie for Morgan. "Now will we have some peace here?" she asked with a displeased frown that lasted all of two seconds under Morgan's scrutiny. Her full fledged smile replaced it as she took a sip of her own coffee to hide her grin.
"Yeah, Mama, you can have some peace now. Look at that smile, that's what I needed to see this morning," he declared, rising to give her a chaste kiss on the forehead. "The best days always include Baby Girl's smile."
"Well, you can thank Spencer for that. He came and talked of Power Rangers and Star Trek and somehow it all makes sense now and I feel better," she informed him, beaming at Spencer as she spoke.
"Power Rangers and Star Trek? Reid, that's weird, even for you. Care to explain that?"
Garcia and Reid exchanged a look, then both burst into laughter, only heightened by Morgan's confusion. Finally Garcia managed an answer.
"Sorry, it only makes sense before 6 a.m."
The end
Final note: For those who may or may not wonder, the actual reason the Yellow Power Ranger had a 'boy' uniform morphed was because all the morphed footage in the early years at least were purchased from a Japanese series, which featured a team of four boys and one girl. In the US they decided on a three boy, two girl team….but Trini was stuck with a boy uniform when morphed. Some of that totally useless knowledge I have floating around in my head. I can't find my car keys, but this I know. Hmph…getting older sucks sometimes. J