Falling Apart, Barely Breathing
Please tell me what you think.
/
It shouldn't have happened the way it did.
But it did.
And now? Now they were slowly falling apart.
Derek stared at the empty desk, briefly musing on how well the object reflected his own state of being.
His eyes retreated to his own workspace, resting on the overflowing stack of files that had been compiling for the past few weeks, before finally landing on Emily's form across the room.
If he were to let his mind wander, it would surely bring him back to the hopeless wish he'd begged to be true over and over again.
He wanted it to be another coverup, for Hotch to eventually tell him that it was all a lie...but he knew it wouldn't happen.
He wanted to be angry with him, and then let it all blow over, because regardless of the deceit...at least he'd be there.
But he was gone. He wasn't hiding away in London, he wasn't going to show up one day, he was gone...utterly and completely gone.
David stood in front of the many photos that lined the hallway of the BAU, eyes locking in on one singular agent.
He swallowed the lump in his throat, eyes misting over, unable to tear his gaze away from the picture-perfect photo.
Rossi closed his eyes then, the tears cut off mid-form. He sighed, he never wanted to see his photo on the wall of Fallen Agents, he didn't belong there...he just didn't.
JJ sat on her couch idly, arms clutching a pillow as she watched the fire distractedly.
Many nights were spent on this couch with him, filled with both laughter and despair.
She could recall he and Will attempting to bond for the sake of her, despite their differences. She also remembered the incredible conversations that sparked from Henry's questioning mind.
But that was just a memory now, and sitting there felt as though she were ruining the history that occurred there. It may have been her family's home...but he was family too, and it wouldn't be the same without him.
"You ready for dinner, Hon?" Will asked, breaking her from her thoughts.
Her smile passed quickly as she nodded, taking one last look at the fire before leaving the room.
He'd tried to tell his mother, but she refused to accept the reality.
Perhaps her subconscious knew why he was there, and unable to deal with it, hid her away.
He wasn't sure if he should consider her lucky or not.
He almost wished he didn't know, that he didn't care...but life wasn't that easy.
Hotch closed the door, letting his head fall down roughly on the steering wheel of his rental car. A long sigh escaped him as he glanced at the hospital, shaking his head before pulling away.
Her office was darker than she'd usually allow it to be, her toys hidden away in the drawers...it didn't seem right to be surrounded by lovely things when the world was so cruel.
Penelope liked to pretend that the bad things that happened, the things that her team fought against, couldn't happen so close to home.
But they did. She'd learned that many, many times in her life...but it never made it any easier.
She didn't understand how he, of all people, could be dead...he was always so alive.
Garcia pressed another button on her computer, an image of his brilliant smile (that they never saw enough of) on the screen.
She was crying shamelessly, the realization that this was the only way she'd ever see him now settling deep inside her.
She'd flown back to Virginia the moment she'd been informed, and she hadn't left yet.
Emily watched Alex, her replacement since her decision to leave permanently.
She felt guilty that she, herself, hadn't been there to protect her friend.
She felt guilty that this woman, who'd only just began to know him, wouldn't get to hear the years of statistics and poor attempts at jokes, or his long winded stories that none of them truly appreciated as much as they should have...she had only just began to consider him family, and now she'd never know that wonderful feeling of him being there.
But maybe that was for the best, because right now, Prentiss was finding it hard to breathe at the thought of her brother as dead. Maybe Alex was let off easy.
Alex Blake's reflection stared back at her, a tired and pale face that she wasn't used to seeing.
She shook her head, not wanting to leave the secluded bathroom.
Alex knew that her teammates were in far worse condition than she, but that didn't stop the awful grief that protruded her.
She hadn't known the young man very long, but it had been long enough. He had climbed into her heart instantly, her motherly instincts aching to heal any wound he would acquire...and he seemed to acquire many.
She thought of all that he'd been through, the things he'd told her. Trouble always seemed to follow him, he'd told her that himself, but she'd always brushed it off. But now, she realized just how correct he was...she wondered if he'd thought about that before he...before-
They're all caricatures of what they once were. They appear to be as they've always been, but inside it's as if they were never those people to begin with.
Their job gets done, they still catch the bad guys, they still save the day...but it happens slower now, and they know- they know- that things will never be the same.
Individually, they contemplate, they fleetingly wonder if it's even worth going to work every day if people are still dying, if they can't even protect one of their own. Each of them come to the conclusion that they have to keep trying, because that's what he would want.
It shouldn't have happened the way it did.
Spencer shouldn't have died.
But it did.
And he did.
And now? Now they were broken.