AN: This is my first ever songfic. I just really wanted to write something but didn't want to start a multichappy fic and this has been sitting on my ideas list for a while now. Hope you enjoy! Also, we're not quite sure how to process the Season 8 finale so we're just kind of ignoring it for purposes of this story.

MN: I know it will seem a little angsty, but I promise you that this really is a fluff piece! This is different from our other works in a couple of ways (other than being a songfic). This is not a romance piece. There is no romance in here whatsoever. Sorry to disappoint, but this is about the rock of a good solid friendship. Also, there is no dialogue in this story, which is definitely something new for us. Hope you all enjoy!

Disclaimers: 1) I do not own Criminal Minds or Bring It On Home or Little Big Town, or really much else at all other than my laptop, muse, and ideas. 2) I am writing (and editing) this under the influence of a fairly large amount of Benadryl and (as one of my friends puts it) I have an ability to "enjoy medication" so I'm really kinda stoned. Like out of my gourd. Like I can't feel my teeth. So, yeah, sorry for any mistakes or things that aren't understandable.


Verse1

Penelope Garcia tightened her arms around her best friend as he finally broke down. The case had been one of the worst they'd had in a long time. Reid had ended up with stitches, Hotch with a cast, Rossi with need for a new bullet resistant vest, JJ a mild concussion, Blake on crutches, seven families with small children to bury, and Derek Morgan with undeserved guilt weighing on his knight-in-shining-armor heart to overshadow the pain of his swollen cheekbone.

He hadn't asked if he could come straight to her apartment from the airstrip, but he hadn't needed to. For him, her door was always open. She was always willing to welcome him home with open arms. Sometimes he came to celebrate. Sometimes, like tonight, he arrived a little more broken than usual. But when she knew he would, he almost always arrived.

Chorus

She hadn't spoken since she'd closed the door behind him as he entered. She'd simply followed him as he nearly stumbled to the couch, snuggled in closely beside him, and slipped her arms around him. Sometimes she had to push him to get him to open up, but tonight wasn't one of those times. Tonight she could tell that he was teetering so precariously on the edge of his emotional cliff that her touch and presence alone would be enough to make him unravel.

It took barely a minute for him to start talking, voicing his guilt, frustration, anger, and pain. As he got to the end of his version of the case's events, his voice had cracked. That little crack was all it had taken to shatter his tough exterior and, a moment later, he was sobbing into her shoulder.

She soothed him with light touches on his back and gentle noises of reassurance, but made no attempt to calm him. He needed to get it all out and she was just going to let him. She would always let him.


He was fairly positive he knew his Baby Girl better than she knew herself. His ability to predict her reactions to a case was what had him already standing outside his front door when she pulled into his driveway.

Two weeks ago it had been he that hadn't been able to handle a serial killer's aftermath on his own. Tonight it was her turn. It was she who had been the one to sift through the videos of torture frame by frame to find their UnSub's mistake, the singular thing that would lead to his identity. And she had, leading them to capture the man fairly seamlessly.

Verse2

He knew the images would be haunting her. The previous night, when all was said and done, she had called him at the hotel from her apartment when the nightmares had woken her up. He'd calmed her down and stayed on the phone with her until she'd fallen back to sleep. That day when they'd returned to the office, he'd made sure to mention that he had no plans for the evening.

She'd managed to hold out until nearly midnight, but now, here she was. She was already dressed in pajamas under her jacket, devoid of makeup, and looked utterly exhausted. He took her overnight bag from her as she entered his house. By the time he got the door locked, she had already disappeared down the hall to his bedroom and by the time he got there, she was already between his dark maroon sheets.

He turned off the lights, dropped her bag on the floor by his dresser, and rounded the bed to climb in next to her. When he laid back, she curled in at his side and his arm wrapped around her. She was asleep in less than five minutes.


Chorus

As he lay in her bed, he wondered to himself when this had become their routine. He supposed it started nearly six months ago when he'd shown up on her doorstep more than a little bit in need of her support. Now, they spent the night after the conclusion of each case together.

Despite popular opinion to the contrary, there was nothing else going on. The team seemed to think that they had "moved their relationship to the next level" (as JJ had put it), but, in reality, they were the same old them. The only thing that had changed was their mutual need to block out the reality of serial killers for just one night after each case.

Baby let me be your safe harbor
Don't let the water come and carry you away

She could tell by the rhythm of his breathing that he had finally drifted off to sleep. It hadn't taken long tonight.

It was late by the time the team had landed so he had automatically driven to her apartment. Somehow their beds had become one another's safe place to be. Actually, she knew that wasn't true. It was each other that was the safe place to be.

They refused to discuss the arrangement they had going on, and she thought that was probably for the best. He was opening up to her on these nights, releasing the years of pent up stress and emotion. If they tried to talk about it by day, she was fairly sure he would clam back up. If that happened, she doubted it would be long before it got to be too much and the pressure of it all would break him.

Chorus

Bridge