The Georgian night was bitterly cold as Garcia stood alone in the tiny airport, under the feeble yellow light emanating from a lone street light nearby the jet. Last night's storm had seemed to still, but the wind was cruelly brisk in Garcia's blond curls, as though willing the FBI to leave, offering strong blows in an hostile attempt to see the BAU jet fly off of its skies.
The lone technical analyst knew that the world felt so cold and cruel only because she was waiting there by herself for the real storm she had lived through – the team had lived through – to be over. The last couple of days had been etched permanently on her memory; the horrors she'd seen carved on her heart. Never before had her heart raced so badly before the images on a computer screen; never before had she felt that tenseness creeping into her very being, nailing her to her seat; never before had her fingers worked so shakily on the keyboard, almost contracting as she fumbled to track the unsub. Garcia had never feared so badly that she would lose one of her 'babies', and never, ever before would she have thought that she'd have to witness it.
As she stood shivering in the airport, lingering by the BAU jet's steps, she prayed, with all her heart, for Reid to be okay. About two hours ago, Morgan had called and given her the news that had her collapse onto her seat and cry sweet tears of relief. An hour and a half later, Morgan had called again to let her know that Reid was okay, and told her to meet them at the airport. And now Garcia waited, anxiously, to say the least, to see Reid for real, to make sure for herself that he was, he really was okay.
She bit her lip as she impatiently watched two black SUVs approach and pull over a few steps away from her. "Oh dear God," she whispered to herself, clutching her green beaded bag to her chest as she watched Morgan and Emily get out of the first vehicle. From the other one, Hotch got off of the driver's seat, and JJ, climbing down from the front seat, opened the back door and held out her hand. Garcia could feel her heart drum against her ribcage as she moved closer and watched Reid climb down the vehicle, taking JJ's help. "Oh my dear God," she repeated, noticing the painful movements. She rushed forward as Reid straightened, Gideon climbing lastly down the SUV and quickly resting a gentle but firm hand on Reid's back. Resisting the urge to walk up and wrap her arms around Reid's fragile body, Garcia forced herself to remain silent, and helped the others unload their go-bags from the SUVs. She watched Hotch, with slight surprise, walk over and in front of Gideon, and take Reid's arm to help him up the jet's stairs, seemingly supporting most of his weight. Garcia noted how crumpled Reid stood, his disheveleled, dirty hair falling over his face like a curtain. His entire posture was awkward – not that Reid wasn't usually awkward, but Garcia couldn't help but think that Reid seemed as though he had somehow shut himself off from the world, letting his body manifest his awkwardness as it pleased. He had not looked up to anyone's face since they arrived at the airport. She felt a hand on her shoulder, and turned, meeting Emily's gentle eyes.
"He'll be fine," Emily said softly, gesturing her to climb the steps after everyone else. "There's no serious damage to his body. His heart rate is normal. The doctor said he'll be sore for a while, but," she squeezed Garcia's shoulder, "he'll be okay."
Not trusting herself to speak, Garcia nodded, inwardly thanking God for the good news, and firmly keeping the tears in her eyes from falling. She walked into the jet before Emily, and seated herself across from JJ, who had, interestingly, chosen a spot facing off from the large seat where Reid had perched.
"JJ," Garcia called softly, reaching forward to touch her knee. She did not know what to say to her friend, but the media liaison certainly looked like she could use a friend. JJ tried to smile at Garcia, brushing off the lingering shadows in her eyes.
"Reid will be fine," she said quietly, not as much for comforting Garcia as for the sake of saying something.
"What about you?" Garcia asked, still reached forward, a hand on JJ's knee. JJ swallowed, sighed deeply, and rested her head at the back of her seat. Understanding that she didn't want to speak about herself, Garcia voiced the question that had been plauging her for the last couple of hours.
"JJ, what happened out there? What happened to Hankel?"
"Hankel's dead," JJ replied, head still resting at the back of the seat, watching Garcia through half-closed eyelids. "Reid shot him."
"What? Reid shot Hankel?" Garcia repeated, the words shocking her, eyes darting towards Reid. Once again, in almost magical speed, a painful lump was forming in her throat. Reid was sitting with his arms tightly wrapped around himself. Right across him were Gideon and Hotch, and next to him, Morgan had a hand on his shoulder, speaking to him. Garcia could hear their voices, but she was not listening, she was not registering the words exchanged. She swallowed the lump in her throat.
If it were someone else – Morgan or Hotch, maybe – that they had shot Hankel might not have sounded so terrible to her ears. She might have even felt a bit of satisfaction. But this was Reid, and now Garcia felt a mixture of anger –at whom she didn't know, but anger at the fact that Reid had to save himself; sadness –for Reid, because somehow Garcia knew that Reid didn't need the weight of having killed someone on his conscious, even though it was more than justified; and pride, for the way he had handled and got out of this entire God-awful ordeal.
"How?" she asked finally, wanting to hear everything that had happened. JJ however, only shook her head, keeping an uncharacteristically preserved silence. Garcia turned to the lone seat at the other side of the isle, across from her. "Emily?"
And as she listened the newest member of the team recount all that had taken place after they left Hankel's house, Garcia no longer bothered to keep the tears from silently falling down.