Spoilers for season six and onwards. You'll understand when you read it.
A Good Man-We're Struggling
None of them had been the same.
No, not in a long time.
Penelope Garcia had become less emotional since JJ had left, since Prentiss had died, since Seaver had come, since the budget had been cut. She wasn't so sparkly, so bubbly and carefree. She had stopped her witty greetings and her ways of making the team feel better. In her defense, he knew that she was trying to recover herself. And she deserved to, really, but sometimes he wished that he could see her laugh and smile again.
Derek Morgan had been more protective and careful since JJ had left, since Prentiss had died, since Seaver had come, since the budget had been cut. The trust he had built up with the team over the last six years had come crashing down, and he found that his strongest agent was becoming weaker and weaker. Not only would Morgan not talk to them about his life anymore, he had started becoming more and more concerned about the team's individual members. Normally he would take that as a good thing, but he was only overcompensating for his lack of care for himself. That alone made him nervous, but he couldn't let himself worry about Morgan at the moment.
Spencer Reid had grown both younger and older since JJ had left, since Prentiss had died, since Seaver had come, since the budget had been cut. The shield that he hadn't seen since the Tobias Hankel case was back and stronger than ever, and he could tell that his will to withstand the headaches he was obviously suffering from was growing thin. He knew that Morgan and several other members of the team had tried to help Reid, but he also knew it wasn't working. Their youngest agent was in a state of emergency, but the kid wasn't letting anyone help. He'd make a mental note later to keep an eye on him, because if he wasn't careful, he'd lose Reid too.
David Rossi had tried to become the rock of the team since JJ had left, since Prentiss had died, since Seaver had come, since the budget had been cut. He was the only member of the team who was even attempting to make things normal. Someone had to, he supposed, but he hadn't been expecting Rossi to reunite the team with video games and pep talks, 'you okay's' and 'let's get a drink'. He appreciated it, sure, but deep down he knew that at one point or another Rossi would have to take a step back and deal with everything that had happened himself. In the meantime he'd accept the help and pretend that it wouldn't have consequences. Besides, Rossi and himself were the 'parent's of the team, and parents were supposed to be the glue of a family.
So, giving all of the facts that Aaron Hotchner had collected, it was about time they all sat in a room together and forced themselves to deal with everything that had happened. Garcia sadly stared down at her bright fingernails and pretended not to be bothered by Morgan as he sat down next to her. Morgan glanced over his fellow team mates as he joined them in the gathering Hotch had created for them. Hotch nodded as Morgan, the last team member to come, finally sat down between Garcia and Rossi. Rossi and Hotch exchanged concerned looks as Reid sat completely still opposite of them at the Hotchner Household kitchen table, tears streaming down the youngest agent's eyes in large, soundless drops.
"So, what is this about?" Rossi finally asked. The other agents silently nodded in agreement, each and every one of them secretly already knowing what was going on. Each one of the original members of the team- Garcia, Rossi, Morgan, Reid, Hotch….They all knew.
"Thanks for coming, everyone," Hotch said.
"Where else would we rather be tonight?" Garcia smiled sadly.
"Yeah, we've all been strugglin', Hotch. It was a good idea," Morgan nodded solemnly.
"The truth, everyone, is that the BAU's not immune to these budget cuts, and this is going to effect every single one of us. "
"What do you mean, Hotch?" Garcia asked,, fear evident in her tone of voice. Hotch opened his mouth to respond, but he slowly closed it again and just shook his head.
"It means," Spencer spat in anger, tears still threatening to spill, "we're all fucked."
The other members of the team looked from Spencer to Hotch with shock evident on their faces, but when Hotch just nodded in response, they realized Spencer was right.
"Yeah, we're all fucked," was the only response Hotch offered. He then raised from his seat and reached behind him for five glasses and a bottle of whiskey. "Now who wants a glass?"