AN: Not my favorite chapter, but it has its moments. Thank you to everyone who is following and favoriting. Don't give up on me yet!

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Penelope stared at the moldy ceiling of the hotel room. She'd woken up at least thirty minutes ago. Normally she would reach for the closest electronic to check news and messages. Today she couldn't shake the lethargic bubble that had swelled up overnight leaving her drained both physically and emotionally.

She missed Reid. She had seen him yesterday. He'd been with the rest of the team at the hotel. And yet, Penelope felt like he'd been absent for weeks.

Since learning the truth about Reid's condition, many of her questions had been answered. Certainly, the mysterious video where Reid had green-screened away and knocked over a cup of pens had an explanation. Just in time too. Penelope had been on the verge of sending the tape to a paranormal club to get their opinion. Maybe she still should. After all, the tape showed—or didn't show—and actual ghost.

Penelope's phone buzzed on the nightstand and she reached for it out of habit. Luckily, it was a good morning message from Morgan and not a request from Hotch.

Chocolate Thunder: Morning, Baby Girl. You ok?

Baby Girl: Jetlag-y.

Chocolate Thunder: And...?

Baby Girl: And missing 187.

Chocolate Thunder: Me too.

Placing her phone face down on the blankets, Penelope took a shuddering breath. At least she held back tears.

The phone buzzed again.

Chocolate Thunder: Hotch needs you.

Baby Girl: Is this Reid-related or case-related?

Chocolate Thunder: You were tired so you might not remember. They found another victim last night. I'm picking you up in twenty.

Penelope set her phone back on the nightstand and rose to prepare for the day. She didn't know how the team managed to travel, work, and still function as normal human beings.

The knock came at the door just as Penelope finished adjusting a sparkly hairband. She reached for her bag and phone then opened the door. Morgan stood there and Penelope had to reevaluate her earlier thoughts about how well the team functioned under pressurized conditions. There were dark bags under Morgan's eyes and his posture wasn't as erect as usual.

"How much sleep did you get?" she asked.

He gave a deep, throaty laugh that shook off some of the exhaustion from his appearance. "Who needs sleep when I have your beautiful face to give me energy."

"You mean looking in the mirror doesn't do it for you?" she joked back, shutting the hotel room door. "And don't make any excuses about how you're straight. I can't think of a single straight man who wouldn't turn for a chance with you."

Morgan snorted and then said the one name that rebutted her argument. "Hotch."

"Okay. That's fair," she conceded.

They reached the SUV and Penelope climbed through the passenger door. Two large cups of coffee sat in cup holders in the center console between seats. Penelope made sounds of pleasure as she reached for the one closest to her and took a large gulp.

"You wanna talk about it?" Morgan asked.

Penelope swallowed. "Talk about what?" She asked though she knew exactly what he was referring to.

"I guess that's a no."

They drove the rest of the way to the police station in silence except for the radio playing anything but the morning news report. They didn't need more bad news. Once in the parking lot, Penelope finally apologized.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I just miss him so much and I didn't even get to say goodbye and now Emily wants to zombify him and my brain is still coping."

Morgan patted her arm gently. "Penelope, I get it. You don't need to feel sorry. I'm here for you if you need to talk or drink coffee or watch cat videos or whatever you need."

The tears threatened her once more but she held them back. "Thank you."

"Ready?"

Penelope took a deep breath and let it out in a huff. "Ready."

They headed into the police station and straight to the conference room where the team was set up. A new picture had been added to the board. Penelope sat down at the table and took out her laptop to start pulling information so the team could work victimology. She was concentrating so hard that she didn't notice when her empty coffee cup was replaced with a mug of her favorite tea. She sipped away happily as she learned all about Patrick Bigelow.

"Victim's family is here," Hotch said. "Prentiss, I want you to speak to them. See if they know any of our other victims or can give insight into the location where he was found."

His words pulled Penelope out of her deep research dive. "Do you want me to make a geographical profile, sir?" she asked.

"That won't be necessary. We have one prepared already."

Penelope suddenly saw the map pinned to the board with circles and colors marking its surface. "Who made that?" she asked, wondering who on the team besides Reid could have reached conclusions so fast.

"Reid was here last night working on it," Hotch said like it was perfectly normal.

"Right, sir," she said then looked back at her screen. Of course, their ghostly genius decided to haunt the conference room and make a geographic profile for them. That was fine. That was totally fine.

She took another sip of tea.

Moments later Hotch and Rossi left to talk to the local police about something and Derrick headed to pick up lunch. Alone in the conference room, Garcia pounded away at her keyboard but her heart wasn't in the work. She was distracted.

She missed Reid.

Her eyes flashed back to the map and then to the closed door. Was she truly alone in here?

"R... Reid?" she asked softly.

Immediately her cheeks flushed red. What was she doing? Her thoughts were so confused. Yesterday she had believed Reid was alive and well. Then Hotch exposed the truth and it was like something switched in her brain. She couldn't think of him as alive anymore. She couldn't think of him as being here at all, not even in spirit form. Why did the rest of the team believe so easily but Penelope had lost all faith?

She reached for her mug again but it was empty except for the soggy remnants of the teabag. Shoving the mug aside, she returned her focus to the computer. She looked up just in time to see Emily escorting Patrick Bigelow's family out of the station. Those poor people. She knew what it was like to lose a family member.

The tears finally came. She'd held them back all night and all morning. If it was true that Emily knew how to bring Reid back, then she didn't need to cry. No one else had cried. So why was she crying now?

A moment later, both Emily and Morgan were moving toward the glass window of the conference room. Penelope didn't want them to see her cry. She needed to calm down.

Without thinking, Garcia grabbed her mug of tea and took a sip of the warm liquid. Then she froze. The mug was full again. No one had entered the conference room. She hadn't refilled it. And yet steam drifted off the mug that was full to the brim.

"Reid?" she asked aloud again, this time with more confidence.

She saw him straighten up from where the was bent down, scribbling something on the map.

"Did Patrick Bigelow work anywhere near the stadium?" he asked.

"Uh, yeah. He was managing the construction project the next block over."

Reid gave her a smile and turned back to the map.

"Thank you for the tea," she said.

Before the young genius could respond, the door opened and Emily and Morgan carried in several bags smelling of noodles and teriyaki. Hotch and Rossi came in close behind.

She saw Hotch give a poignant look at Morgan, signaling him to walk over to where she worked at the conference table. He sat down and spoke softly.

"You okay?"

For the first time since learning the truth last night, Penelope smiled. "Yeah," she said. "I'm okay."