AN: The writers' block struck with a vengeance, so if this sucks, I apologize. Blame my muse.
Thanks to Quieten, JuliaBC, kimd33. Zeldawolf2000, Guest, and Tannerose! You guys rock!
Please R & R; let's bring my muse back to life.
Penelope's world was made of colors. The pink of her trolls, the neon colors of her clothes, many of which were handmade, the colors of her home; these were the colors of happiness, of light, and of the reasons not to become lost in herself again.
There were other colors too; the chocolate color of Morgan's skin, the red color of Hotch's tie that was so close to the color she looked away from, and yet, so ironically comforting, the purple of Reid's scarf, a gift she gave him on his 22nd birthday, a day she remembered in crystal clarity, the color of innocence in the blue of her godson's eyes, and the brown of Jack Hotchner's eyes.
These were the good colors, but they weren't the only ones.
There was grey, the sick, pallid color of dead bodies, a sight that she saw far too often for her own liking, the dark black-crimson color of spilled human blood, of lives cut too short, of innocence cruelly ripped away, leaving empty shells in the best of cases, and in the worst, leaving a bloody trail of dead bodies across America.
It was times like those, the times when she realized how much these colors took over her world, that Penelope seriously considered disappearing back underground, hiding in a bunker somewhere safe where she would never have to see the evils of the world again, but her compassionate soul would never allow her to abandon the children of the world. Instead, she'd continue to tap away at her keys, ignoring the dark colors and focusing on the bright ones surrounding her in the form of both her toys and her team, saving the few innocents of the world that she could, and trying to complete the futile and yet somehow paradoxically worthwhile mission of protecting those who couldn't protect themselves.
But how long could she stay, how long could she surround herself with the darkness without falling apart, letting it push through her barriers? She didn't know, and luckily, she would never find out.
She had her team, and they would protect her from the world that wanted to smother her light, and Penelope Garcia would remain a Polaris to them, the brightest star in the sky, the one to guide them home, to shine light through the darkest of colors.
She spun to her computers and, as quickly as possible, resumed her searches, surrounded by the colors of life and innocence.