Chapter 2

AN: Hi everyone. Please forgive me for being so late in posting this chapter. I spent the weekend flat on my back…and not in a pleasurable way! I threw my right hip out of alignment, so I am having a hard time sitting upright. So, I am updating, but not as quickly. Thanks for the reviews and for your patience, my dears…

Penelope was chewing on a breadstick, listening to the general conversation happening between Reid and Rossi. It was leftover from lunch—both the breadstick and the conversation. Reid was arguing the relevance of nature versus nurture in raising a serial killer, and Rossi was switching sides, just to be a devil, taking whatever side Reid wasn't on.

While the conversation was antagonistic, the breadstick was lovely and brooked no argument. It was a chewy rosemary and Parmesan one that she'd had with her light strawberry salad. The salad had been tasty, but it hadn't been that filling. Salads usually weren't for her; she always became hungry around three o'clock after eating one.

Glancing at the clock, she wondered when her niece would be stopping up. Cara had to get there quickly if she wanted to stop and see Penelope and still make her flight. She should've been there by now.

"How can you use that as a reference?" Reid argued, frowning at Rossi. "It was based entirely on fiction!"

"Okay, I'll give you that," Rossi replied with a fighting gleam in his eyes. Dave kicked his feet up on the desk and leaned back. "However, I do know half of those families he described in that book, Reid. It may be fictitious, but it is loosely based on reality."

Reid's scowl darkened. "There is no conceivable way you—"

"Garcia," Seaver interrupted, coming in from outside the bullpen. She had been at a training seminar that morning, outside of the Quantico building. "Someone is waiting for you in the lobby. Reception was going to call, but I said I would tell you."

"That must be Cara, my niece," Pen answered, standing and smoothing her skirt. "Thanks, Ashley."

"No problem."

Penelope headed towards the elevators and waved quickly at Derek, who was writing a report at his desk. She boarded the elevators and hurried quickly to the lobby.

The steel blue and dark gray colors of the lobby, along with the wall of colorless windows and serviceable furniture, was a stark contrast to her colorful niece standing there. She had a raspberry beret on her head, a teal bolero jacket over a sunshine yellow dress, along with chunky jewelry.

It was a family trait; every Garcia was a snazzy dresser.

"Cara," she said, as the young woman turned to see her.

"Auntie," she answered, taking a step forward and embracing Penelope.

"Can you come up so I can show you off?" P said with a grin when they parted.

Cara shook her head sadly. "I'm sorry. I have the cab waiting for me, and I can't take the time to make it through clearance here."

Penelope knew that was true; they had tighter security in their building than most airports had.

"I understand." She looked over Cara's shoulder and saw a huge, magenta colored duffle bag on the floor, along with a rather businesslike briefcase leaning against it. "Is that the sales items?"

"Yes," Cara answered, reaching for the duffle with both hands. She handed it over to Penelope, who staggered under the weight, and then handed her the briefcase. "Here you go."

"What's in here?" P asked, really curious. "Bricks?"

"Of course not! It's just stuff from Private Pleasures," she answered with a giggle. She looked at her watch, and her eyes grew wider. "O-M-G! I have to run! Goodbye! See you in a couple of months!"

It was time for Penelope's eyes to grow wider. A couple of months? She hadn't known she would be doing this for a couple of months. And Private Pleasures? What was that? Some sort of in-home spa thing?

However, she only had time to say a quick "Goodbye!" Cara kissed her cheek and dashed out of the lobby, light blue streaked black hair flying behind her.

Oh well. No reason to worry now. She had work to do. Shaking her head at her niece's vital energy, wondering if she was ever that young, she started towards the security clearance, where one of the agents was waiting for her.

"Hi, Martin," she said, as she placed her huge duffle and the briefcase on the conveyor belt, and then removed some of her metallic jewelry, placing it in an offered dish.

"Hi, Penelope," he answered with a smile. Martin was about seventy years old and was the definition of a cute little old man. He'd worked for the FBI for forty years, and had run the scanning booth for a very long time.

She walked through the metal detector with no issues, stood at the end, and put on her jewelry while she waited for her bags. And waited. And waited.

They weren't coming through.

"Penelope…" Martin began hesitantly, his wrinkled brow frowning. "What is in these bags?"

She paused, fastening an earring, and stared at him. "I really don't know."

"I'm sorry, but I cannot define what these items are. Rick is going to have to go through these," he said, looking over his shoulder at the younger, much hotter security guard. He signaled with his arm for the other agent to come over.

This was a welcome surprise…Like most women, Penelope loved a man in uniform!

"Hi, Penelope," he said when he came over. Another younger agent followed him.

Rick did the brawny work of the security team; she'd seen him tackle people like Derek would an Unsub. He was built almost exactly like Morgan, except he was tall, blond, and handsome. She flirted as much with Rick as she did with Derek…and stood about the same chance at actually dating either of them. So, it was harmless.

"Hi, Rick," she said with a cheeky grin. "How is life treating you?"

"Oh, it's much better now that I get to see you, sunshine," he answered with a flirty grin of his own. "I have a trainee here—Mitchell."

"Mitch," the younger man said, looking frustrated.

Rick secretly winked at her, and continued, "Mitchell is going to check your bags."

Penelope wanted to giggle, but held it back. Poor Mitch; he was getting the older agent/younger agent tease, and he wasn't used to it yet. In about two months, she was certain he'd be like Reid, able to roll with the punches much better.

Speaking of punch, Rick clapped his hand on Mitch's shoulder and gave him a shove towards the bag. "Go for it, kid."

Mitch opened her bag…and his eyes widened like saucers and his cheeks flamed. He looked up at Penelope and turned an even more flamboyant shade of red, which nearly matched his red hair.

"Uhh…uhh…" he stuttered.

"You okay, Mitch?" Rick looked concerned for the other man; he stepped forward to grab the bag. "What's in there?"

He looked inside, and then looked up at Penelope with an expression similar to Mitch's.

"What is the big deal?" she asked, frowning. Hadn't they ever seen spa products before?

Rick recovered fastest. He immediately smiled at her with the most wolfish expression she had ever seen on his face—and she had seen some whoppers on that man in her seven years with the FBI.

"I don't know, sweetheart," he said. "Why don't you tell me?"

She rolled her eyes. "I don't know why the private rituals we do surprise you men so much."

Mitch choked and began to blush even brighter. She started to worry for him, too…he was so red, he looked like he was going to explode.

Rick gave her a tongue in cheek look, and wiggled his blond furry eyebrows. "You know, I kinda thought these are the type of private rituals you dealt in, honey."

"Just hurry up so I can get back to work," she grumbled, not liking the leer on Rick's face.

"Mitch," he said. "Take the articles out so we can check the bottom of the bag and Miss Garcia can be on her…errrrr…merry way."

The younger agent was still blushing, but he did giggle at that. "Yes, sir."

Penelope huffed, wondering what their problem was, and turned to pick up her briefcase. At least that had gone through without a hitch!

When she turned back and saw the contents of the duffel spread out on the counter, she felt the color drain from her face and gasped in dismay.