Garcia woke up to the sound of chiming bells. Chiming bells? Where in the world were those coming from? She rolled over in her big, luscious bed—and promptly hit the floor. This wasn't her big bed at all. It was tiny cot. Her Morrocan rug wasn't on the floor. It was a cold, hard, stone floor. What was this? She stood up and shook herself off. She noticed she was dressed in a blue night gown, not the bright green one she'd gone to sleep in.
Suddenly, she realized where she was. The basement at the BAU! Why was she here? She looked around the small, stone room. There was a dresser, a small table with a lamp, the cot, and a small dressing area. She lived here? She was appalled—this was not her style at all! Why on earth would she live here?
A small squeaking noise drew her attention to the floor. There was a mouse! Garcia squeaked a little herself, hoping the mouse would be scared and run away. She fell awkwardly back onto the bed, banging her head on the wall behind her.
"OW!"
"Garcia, are you okay?"
Garcia looked around, wondering where the voice had come from.
"Down here," said the voice again.
"What? Reid, is that you? Why—are you a MOUSE?"
Reid's mousey face looked slightly perplexed. "I've always been a mouse," he answered.
"You've always been a mouse," Garcia repeated, still extremely confused.
"Yes, and Garcia, there's no time for this. I've come to find you because there's another mouse caught in one of your evil stepmother's traps! We have to save it," Mouse-Reid looked extremely excited and scared.
"Save it?" My God, what was in that pill Derek gave her? She decided she would play along—for now. She was obviously dreaming.
Running towards the door, she realized she was still in her nightgown. "I guess I should get dressed first."
She looked in the small wardrobe, noticing it only contained brown, black, and navy blue drab suits. What the hell? Shaking her head woefully, she picked out a brown suit and threw it on quickly.
"Lead the way, Mouse-Reid," she said, following the little mouse out of the room and up the basement stairs. On the top landing, they found a little metal cage. Inside, there was a scared little mouse. Garcia looked at him again, and she swore it was Anderson. She removed the latch on the cage, letting the little guy out.
"Thank you," he squeaked.
"Umm…you're welcome," she replied.
"Garcia, you'd better get to your office if you're going to get started on your daily chores. You don't want to make angry again," another little mouse voice squeaked, this one female.
"EMILY?"
"Yes," the mouse looked up at her quizzically. She wondered if her friend was feeling okay.
"This is so weird," Garcia said, but she clamored up the stairs to the office she loved so dearly. Maybe being around her things would shake her out of this funk.
Walking in the door to her office, she stopped, and gasped.
"What…the…," Garcia cried. "This isn't my office!" Everything was so…drab. She'd always kept things orderly and neat, but this was downright tidy. Everything was gray! Where were her stuffed animals? Her glitter pens? Her posters? She felt like she'd just walked into a Charlie Chaplain movie, without the comedy.
In no time at all, the phone started ringing. She wasn't sure how to answer it. At the moment, she certainly did not feel like the Supreme Goddess she normally professed to be.
"Garcia's office," she stammered, picking up the phone.
"Why are you still sitting around? Did you finish that report yet? Why isn't it on my desk?"
"Rossi? Is that you?"
"Of course it is, who else would it be? Get up here with that report, and it had better be perfect!"
The phone slammed in Garcia's ear, unsettling her nerves a little. Rossi was usually so nice to her. Gathering the report in her hands, she headed out of the office and to the elevator.
Pressing the button that would take her to the BAU bullpen, she rode the elevator in stunned silence. When she arrived, she almost had a heart attack. The BAU was usually so busy, bustling, even. Everyone was sitting nice and quietly at their desks, working diligently. There was no visiting, no laughter, no pictures of families adorned any desks. Again…drab.
She walked up the stairs to Rossi's office. Once there, she knocked on the door timidly, afraid of what she might find on the other side.
"Come in," his voice called from the other side.
She entered, and was immediately struck by his appearance. It was Rossi…but not. His nose was crooked, he had a huge wart on his chin and his hair was unseemly to say the least. She tried to shake it off, and put the report on his desk.
"Will there be anything else, sir," she asked, trying to hide her confusion and astonishment.
"Of course there will! What do you think this is, the Hilton? Get busy," he said, pointing to a stack of papers on his desk. "And don't forget to stop by Hotch's office, he's got some chores for you, too."
Quickly, Garcia grabbed the papers and scooted out of Rossi's office, stunned at the way he'd treated her, not to mention his appearance.
She walked next door to Hotch's office, knocking lightly on the door.
"Yes," he called sharply.
Garcia entered, shocked into silence when she saw him. Hotch was hideous, even more so than Rossi had been. He had several warts, at least three missing teeth, and a horrible unibrow.
"I was told you wanted to see me," she stammered.
"Of course I want to see you. Did you read this report before you handed it in? It's shoddy at best. Worse than your usual subpar work, I'd say. You can do better, even if it is marginally!" He threw the report across the desk at her. "Now, get it re-done and all these others before the end of the day, or else!"
Again, she grabbed the papers and scrambled to get out of the line of fire, muttering "Yes sir, yes sir," under her breath.
"And don't forget to see what Strauss has for you," he called after her.
Afraid of what to expect, Garcia walked the few feet to Strauss' office. Shuffling the papers precariously balanced in her arms, she knocked on the door.
"You may enter," Strauss' voice called from the other side.
Garcia held her breath and walked in. She was shocked to find that Strauss looked normal enough, just a small bit scarier than usual.
"You wanted to see me," she asked.
"You're late. You should have been in here five minutes ago to collect your assignments for the day. I will not accept this sort of carelessness and thoughtlessness. You are responsible for many important things, and you cannot sleep on the job!"
"I'm sorry," Garcia stammered quietly.
"Don't be sorry! Get to work!" Strauss yelled at her.
Garcia grabbed the files from her hands and ran out of the room as quickly as possible. She hurriedly made her way down to the elevator and rushed back to her office.