A/N: Still owning nothing. Pooey. Ouch this hurt to write. It'll all be fixed, I promise.

Derek could hardly look at Penelope the rest of the week. It wasn't, as she thought, that he was disgusted with her; instead, it was all about self preservation. He had come hard against reality, with no gentle illumination, no swelling violins ushering in his realization of love. He had realized his feelings when she was shot, and now, it was the cold, hard reality of life that had him by the neck and was forcing him to look down two divergent paths. One path had him walking alone, distancing himself from Penelope because he knew, completely, he couldn't bear witness to her heavy with any other man's child. The other path, the one he ached to follow, starred his baby girl in a white gown, her face radiant, her soft body round with his baby. He needed her, forever, and if the torment of stepping aside for Lynch hadn't been hard enough, seeing her carrying and raising another man's child, no matter how anonymous the donor might be, would kill him. It was a possessive, animalistic need, and it frightened him.

Penelope, on the other hand, was livid. Derek had made these shrouded declarations, and then avoided her from that point on. She understood that he didn't agree with her choice- she just never anticipated his anger.

"JJ, I just don't see why it matters so much to him. He hated Kevin; I expected he'd be so pleased that it was over." JJ looked at her friend with sympathy. They were in her office Friday evening, their end of week chats a ritual.

"Pen, have you stopped to consider what he was, in his own stupid, obtuse way, trying to tell you?"

"I heard his words. He thinks I ought to wait around for something that's never going to happen. That my dreams ought to be on hold just because he says so. Well, you know, ok, I agree, I'd much rather get there the traditional way. But that's not gonna happen- I don't see hoards of men lining up to date me."

She sighed deeply.

"Why does he want to take away the one happiness I have a chance for in my life? I thought he loved me…" Penelope held back the tears, fiercely attempting to maintain the anger that had sustained her. "You know what? I'm going to go over there. I'm going to go over there and make him tell me what the hell he thinks he's doing. He's not allowed to be that selfish." She stood up resolutely and headed out the door.

Derek got up to pour another drink. When he dropped the ice for the third time, he gave up and just took the bottle of Jack back to the couch with him instead of in a glass. The bottle was half empty. Silently he glared at the amber liquid inside, willing himself to not dwell on the fact that it had been full just the night before. He had been trying to sleep, but he was in such turmoil over Penelope that he simply couldn't.

So, he drank until he passed out.

It wasn't the best solution, but he couldn't see any other option, at least until he could wash her out of his head.

He was finally getting to the point of relaxing when he heard a key in the lock. Instantly sobered, he stood up and walked to the door. There were only two people who had a spare key to his place, and he knew his mom would have called before coming to visit, so it had to be Penelope.

She burst in, slamming the door behind her. He tried to look away, but was stunned, breathless, at the high color in her cheeks. Her ample bosom heaved with every breath, and her eyes flashed fire. The rational part of his mind warned him that she was angry, that he should be wary, but the bourbon overrode that warning and instead stared, fascinated, at the tempest in his foyer.

She stalked over to him, her anger fueled by the slack-jawed way in which he was staring at her. "How dare you." She stood close to him, glaring in his face. Her body heat, the smell of her perfume, washed over him and he struggled to maintain control.

"How dare I what? What are you doing here?" He countered at her, his voice dangerously low.

She closed her eyes, clenching her teeth. "What gives you the right to decide what I am allowed to do with my life?" She spun away from him, shouting now. "And what the hell were you babbling on about? Why am I not allowed to give up? You have no say in this! You had your chance, you already gave up! Now I'm making this choice for me, so you-" unbidden, tears started coursing down her face, but she ignored them. "You need to either tell me, plainly, what the hell you think you have to do with this, or you just butt out!"

He stared at her, shocked. He was torn between the impulse to hold her, and to scream back at her. Again, the bourbon and hurt boiled up within him and won control over his gentler instincts.

"What chance did I ever have, Garcia? I had no chance. I told you I loved you. I said those words- I was scared shitless of them, but more scared to lose you and you threw it back in my face! And not a day later, with Lynch, of all people. I'm worth ten of him! You deserve better than me, you deserve perfection, but no, you're too damn hard headed to see what's right here in front of your face!" She was crying in earnest, now, the sobs wrenching from her chest, but he couldn't stop, the catharsis of finally screaming out all the pain he'd been holding inside outweighing his reason. He stepped in front of her, forcing himself to ignore the streaming tears down her face. "You know what I want Garcia? I want to give you everything. I want to be your man. I want to make love to you and give you those babies. I want to grow old and die in your arms." He turned away, coldly, stalking back to his bottle in the living room, not realizing the wetness staining his own cheeks. "But I guess you're too damn hard headed to let either of us be happy."

She sank to her knees, unable to stand, sobs wrenching out of her body. She knew she looked terrible, she knew she had lost all her dignity to him. She was raw, bare, stripped down to her soul, and he no longer cared. She tried to gain control of herself, but his words crashed over her, again and again. She had been running from him, from the fear of him, certain that those words had meant so much less than they did.

She had been handed the most perfect love and she had thrown it away.

She tried to pull herself up, lifting her head, and saw Derek standing in the doorway. He had gotten as far as the kitchen when he heard her wracking sobs and came to see if she would be okay. When he rounded the corner and saw her, collapsed on the floor, her dress splayed around her, her golden curls in tangles, her shoulders heaving, his heart stopped in his chest, tears springing to his eyes when he saw the result of his angry words. She looked up at him, agony plain in her face. He immediately fell to his knees beside her, gathering her spent body into his arms.

For a moment, she relaxed against him, feeling the familiar comfort wash over her. Then memory intruded, and she roughly pushed him away, standing up. He stood and reached for her again and she slapped him once, twice, hard across the face.

"No Derek. Remember? You gave up."

She turned and walked out to her car. Derek just stood there as he heard her speed away.