Chapter 3
AN: I am absolutely humbled and honored by the wonderful reviews that I have received. Thank you to those who are enjoying my "twist" on a favorite near and dear to our hearts. On that note, after Tuesday's episode, this was crying to be written.
Derek was getting madder by the minute. He was going through a funk, which wasn't uncommon with behavioral analysts. This funk had lasted since the case with Tamara. He was stepping up to the plate, being the boss, but it just didn't feel right. There was more to it than he ever thought. The funny thing was, Hotch looked younger and spunkier than he had in years, being a field agent again. He was starting to envy him a bit!
He hadn't slept well in months, he hadn't had a great relationship, and he spent far too much time working out with the punching bag. He was a bit thinner, a bit tougher looking, a bit older feeling. His relationship with the rest of the team hadn't changed much, or so he thought. He hadn't had the time to talk to Penelope; he was just so damn busy his head spun. He worked longer days and longer hours than he ever had before. He stopped by her apartment a few times, looking for some solace, but the lights were always off. Derek always figured he'd get the time soon to smooth things over with his Baby Girl and things would go back to normal.
It didn't take long for him to realize he made a huge mistake in delaying. He seriously thought that Penelope would always be there for him, always waiting for him to get his shit together, waiting for when he was ready to settle. He thought this would pass, this thing with Nick Deverell. It passed with Lynch, it always passed with everyone that she dated. Then, he'd have his baby girl back.
Derek knew it was unfair. He always knew that she loved him. It was in her eyes. The others thought he was blind, but he wasn't; after all, he was a profiler too. He could read her like a book. He knew what she thought when she thought it. He didn't like her with the other men, but in her eyes he never really had anything to worry about. In her eyes, she was always his.
He also knew that there was an inevitable truth when you worked for the BAU: relationships ended poorly because you lived this job, you breathed this job-- this job overtakes your life. Not that he didn't try. He dated Tamara Barnes with the hope that she could be the one that gave him "normalcy." A life outside of the BAU, away from everything here.
But she didn't understand the nightmares, the mental brandishing and guilt he felt when things didn't go right. He'd talk about a case; she'd either cry or get queasy. Garcia would call the Unsub a "sicko" and calm his fears, the way only she could. He'd sit with Tamara, watching some chick flick, and his mind would wander back to when he was watching some slapstick comedy with Garcia instead. When he laughed with her, he really laughed. And Garcia! She laughed so hard, she snorted. He couldn't imagine Tamara snorting. He thought of the many nights he shared pepperoni pizza and beer with Garcia. Tamara was a chardonnay-type of girl, and ordered her pizza with light cheese. He thought Sunday morning football at Garcia's. Garcia pretended to like it, only to fall asleep on his lap minutes into the game. He didn't try that with Tamara… it just didn't feel right.
Somehow, after a while, nothing felt right with Tamara. She was beautiful, she was kind, she was generous… and she was all wrong. Soon, he found the conversations lacking, the passion drying, and the relationship a chore. He questioned if he'd be fit for human companionship to anyone. And he found that he was unwilling to change. He loved the BAU, he loved his team….most of all Garcia.
He could see in Garcia's eyes the insecurity that flared. She thought she wasn't good enough for him. She had it so backward- he was no where near good enough for her. He was a player and a wanderer with more baggage than a United flight. He just wanted the scars of his life gone before he started a new life with her. She deserved that. Damn Buford, damn his past relationships, damn his inability to truly trust. He wanted to come to her a full man, a real man, not someone weak and broken half the time.
His thoughts were interrupted by the young Dr. Reid, brandishing a full file. "Morgan, I'm done with this one. What's the matter with you? You look like someone shot your puppy!"
