In the highly esteemed opinion of FBI Analyst and Technical Goddess Penelope Garcia, it was considered patently unfair to feel quite this uncomfortable in one's own home. As she fiddled with a long curl that had escaped her bun, she recalled the nervousness and uncertainty she'd felt the first time Derek had seen her apartment. He'd come over to keep her company a few days after she'd been shot, and it was the first time anyone from the BAU had been to her home, and she'd been terrified - and she suddenly realized that the rollercoaster of emotions she was feeling now was much, much worse.
"Ready to chat?" Michael's upbeat voice carried across the small apartment as he exited her bathroom, his tone etched with what Penelope found to be a rather inappropriate amount of nonchalance. Even his word choice dripped with carelessness: reuniting with one's step-brother after twenty-plus years of noncontact struck Penelope as a conversation that warranted a stronger description than "chat".
"Fine," she growled through her teeth, growing increasingly irritated as her brother - step-brother, she thought resentfully - made himself right at home in her favorite chair so that they were face-to-face across the coffee table. "You wanna chat? Let's chat."
Michael opened his mouth and made as if to say something, but Penelope didn't give him the chance. "Let's chat about how you and your brothers thought that the best thing to do for your hurting, grieving, eighteen year-old step-sister was to tell her that you hated her, and that it was her fault her parents were dead. Let's chat about how you let me walk out of the house that night after the funeral without even trying to go after me. Let's chat about how you changed your phone number and moved out of the house just to avoid me. Let's chat about how you weren't there for me when I went underground, hacked into government databases, and intentionally got myself arrested to get away from my emotionally manipulative boyfriend. Let's chat about how I insisted that the FBI let me keep the same phone number I've had for the past 25 years, just in case one of my brothers decided I was worth speaking to again. Let's chat about how I got shot and had to say to the nurses, "I don't have any family. Could you please call my boss?" Let's chat about how you got married and had kids and didn't think I'd care, or didn't think I deserved to know. Let's chat about how my best friend, the man with whom I've been desperately in love for the majority of my adult life, just got married, had a baby, and left the team. Let's chat about how he hasn't called me in over a month, and I showed up at work today to meet his replacement, and lo and behold, it's my long-lost brother! And wow! He wants to come to my apartment! And chat! You wanna chat, Michael? You go right ahead."
Angry tears were streaming down Penelope's face as she spat out the last few words, so she jerked her glasses off her face, snatched up a box of tissues from the table in front of her, and began rubbing the tears and running makeup off of her face with excessive force.
"I- I don't know what to say, Penny Layne," Michael whispered, tears of remorse and shame pricking the backs of his own eyes. "There's no excuse for the way we treated you back then."
"Damn straight," she snapped. "And my name is Penelope. No one's called me Penny Layne in 25 years."
After another long moment in which the only sound to be heard was Penelope's loud sniffling, Michael ventured to ask the first question that came to mind: "You got shot?"
Penelope slid her glasses back onto her face with a short, humorless laugh. "Sure did," she said with sarcastic bravado. "On the steps of this very building, in fact! One of the worst first dates I've ever had."
Michael sighed and slid to the very edge of his chair, hands folded, staring at the ground. "Penny- Penelope - about that night," he began, but his sister quickly cut him off again.
"I overreacted just now, Michael," she said sadly. "I haven't had anyone to vent to about what happened that night, so you got hit with two and a half decades of emotional garbage, and that's not fair to you."
"No, no, no," he interjected quickly, eyes wide. Michael was absolutely shocked; her apology made it clear that even after all these years and after all she'd been through - after all she'd been through alone - his baby sister was still just as kind and positive-natured as he remembered her to be. She never ceased to amaze him. "Penelope, what happened to Dad and Jane-" his voice broke for a moment as he tried to handle the emotional weight of both the moment at hand and the one that had caused so much pain so long ago - "It wasn't your fault. It was just an accident, and we should never, ever have blamed you."
"I know," Penelope assured him with a fast nod. She wiped away a few stray and patted the couch beside her in invitation as she continued, saying, "I came to terms long ago with the fact that their death was not my fault, just like everything that's happened to me since then isn't your fault. You guys let me run away that night, and it's okay. I'm happy here, I swear I am. Maybe it's God's will, maybe it's fate, I don't really know, but I do believe that everything happens for a reason." As Michael sat down beside her, she turned over her shoulder and looked him in the eyes as she added softly, "Even this. Even meeting you again, Michael Scott Garcia."
Unable to resist the urge any longer, Michael wrapped his arms tightly around his little sister and held her against his chest like his life depended on it. "I'm so sorry for abandoning you, hermanita," he whispered.
As the familiar Spanish nickname rolled of his lips, Penelope's heart was overcome with memories and emotions. One thing she'd learned about herself over the years, though, was that she had a terrible tendency to try to deal with everything she was feeling all at once, and it usually ended in disaster. So instead, she chose not to say a thing, and just turned towards Michael and did something she'd never imagined she'd do again: she hugged her brother.
The beautiful moment, however, unfortunately did what all beautiful moments must eventually do: it came to an end. As brother and sister each resettled into their respective seats on the couch, Penelope was caught slightly off-guard when Michael took a deep, falsely casual breath and said, "So tell me about this 'best friend' of yours."
Oh, crap.