Disclaimer: I do not own the team. Title and quotes from Tennyson's In Memoriam.
Summary: Mourning is never linear. Gideon's death, viewed through an ongoing series of drabbles.
Our Father's Dust
25
"Descend, and touch, and enter; hear/ The wish too strong for words to name;/
That in this blindness of the frame/ My Ghost may feel that thine is near."
*
The report prints out illegibly light-- that's what you get for trying to use every last drop of ink, Reid thinks. Oh well. He crumples the first page into a tight ball and turns to lob it at Morgan's head.
He stops his chair mid-spin. Right. Morgan doesn't sit there anymore.
Reid drops the ball into the empty wastebasket, where it makes a hollow plunking sound. He tries to ignore his stomach as it gives a sad little twist, and heads to the supply cabinet for more ink.
You'd think he'd be used to this by now, this… missing people.