Blake was a talented liar; she had to be in order to keep her secret for so long, but she was afraid she wouldn't be able to lie to her husband. She paced back and forth in the empty bullpen, fidgeting with her cell phone but too scared to make the call.

He's going to hear it in my voice, she thought. He's going to hear that something's off, and he'll come for me.

"Hey," someone said from behind her and she jumped, nearly dropping her phone.

"Jesus Christ!" she gasped and glared at Garcia. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack above all?"

"Oh I'm so sorry, I thought you heard me coming in."

Blake shoved the hair out of her face and tried to will her pulse to calm down, blushing furiously as she averted her eyes.

"Obviously I didn't," she replied and her jaws clenched in a desperate attempt to keep from crying. She did not want to cry again! Somehow this time she managed to wade off the tears before they threatened to drown her, but it was a struggle.

"Sorry," Garcia repeated, and she looked it.

Blake sighed. "It's not your fault. I guess I'm just… a bit jumpy."

Now that's the understatement of the year.

"I know you are, it's okay," Garcia said, giving her a warm smile. "Do you want me to stay while you make the call?"

"No. No, I'll be fine on my own."

Garcia doubted it, but she had seen the conflicting emotions in her colleague's eyes and knew perfectly well just how fragile her self control was.

"Okay. I'll wait for you by the elevators."

Blake nodded. Then, just as Garcia left, she called out in a low voice;

"Thank you. I know I'm bad at expressing my feelings, but I really am grateful for everything you guys do for me."

Garcia smiled. "You'll be fine, pretty lady."

God I hope so, she thought as she hit speed dial and waited for her husband to pick up the phone. She was trembling like a puppy afraid of being kicked, and she hoped for dear life that the tremor wouldn't be detectable in her voice.

"James? Hi, it's me."

At least to herself, she sounded normal, and this made her relax a little.

"Hi honey! Are you back?"

She closed her eyes and raised her free hand up to her face, touching the fading bruise with her fingertips. No, James, I will never be back, she thought.

"Well, I'm at my desk right now but we just got called away again. I just wanted to let you know."

"Uh-huh." She could tell he was barely listening.

"What are you doing?" she asked, trying to sound light-hearted.

"I'm cooking. I was hoping you'd be back to join me for dinner."

There was an underlying threat in this plea, but it was usually safe to dodge it if it was over the phone. It would have been a different thing if she had been standing before him, telling him she had to leave for another case as soon as she got back. He may have let her go, but probably not before boxing her in the stomach or the lower back. In fact, her kidneys seemed to contract momentarily as if he actually had hit her across them.

"I'm sorry." She was, though not about missing dinner with him.

"Yeah, well. Places to go and bad guys to catch. Where are you going this time?"

No questions about whether or not anyone had commented on her bruise. Had he actually forgotten that he had let her leave the house with a black eye only a few days ago? As unbelievable as it may have sounded, she thought he had. He was that sure of himself, of not getting caught. And after all, why wouldn't he be? She had kept quiet for nearly two decades, he must feel quite certain that she was completely obedient.

"Uh, Arizona," she lied.

"Don't forget to load up on sunscreen."

She nearly rolled her eyes. If it was up to him she would be pale as a porcelain doll, and while her complexion was naturally rather fair, she could never look like a Victorian lady unless she decided to undergo bloodletting. Which, for the record, she never would. There were limits even to her submission.

"I won't. I'll call you whenever I can. Love you."

"I love you too, honey."

He hung up and she lowered the phone, staring at it. Her hands were shaking. Now she was lying to him, and there would be no mercy if he caught her now.

But he'd have to catch me first.

Garcia waited by the elevator as she had promised. Blake had never been so happy to see anyone before; while she still had her doubts about Garcia being able to protect her - she had a hard time visualising Garcia protecting anyone from anything unless it was a digital threat - she only wanted some TLC, and there were few people who could offer that more genuinely than Garcia.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Sure."

"What would you like for dinner?"

Blake nearly laughed.

"Truthfully?"

"As truthful and blunt as can be. Just spit it out."

"Pizza. And ice-cream."

"For topping?" Garcia teased. Blake pursed her lips and pretended to consider.

"Yeah. Why not?"

Garcia laughed out loud.

"I'm sure we can make that happen if we need to."

Blake joined the laughter.

"On second thought, let's make the ice-cream a side dish."

Much later, as they were comfortably full - and truth be told, a little bit tipsy after sharing a bottle of wine - Garcia spoke up.

"May I ask you something?"

Blake tensed.

Here it comes, the question about why I stayed for so long; was there some sick, perverted part of me that enjoyed being hurt?

She took a sip of the wine to calm her nerves. "Yeah, sure."

"What did he do to compensate?"

She swallowed the wine the wrong way and began coughing, waving her hand in front of her face.

"I'm sorry, what?" she gasped.

"My ex-boyfriend always did the classic unexpected flower gift routine. For about two years after our breakup just seeing flower bouquets made me shiver with fear."

"You…?" Blake said, after she finally managed to stop coughing. "You were…?"

"I was. Not for very long, and he never, you know, hit me so bad I had to get to the hospital, but… yes." She took a sip of her own wine. "So what did James get you? Jewellery? Flowers?"

"Books," she said. "First editions, various classics… I still to this day have no idea where he got them. I have a signed copy of Moby Dick. He got me that one after…" she trailed off and hid her face in her hands. "Sorry."

Garcia held out a hand and gently, very gently, put it on the older woman's shoulder.

"Listen to me Alex, you have nothing to be sorry for."

"I just feel like I'm never going to go another day without crying again," Blake sniffed. "I don't cry, Penelope, I never cry!" She nearly sounded desperate.

"Well, all those bottled up emotions need to come out some time, better sooner than later. Trust me on that one. Come here," she said and Blake curled up next to her, leaning her head against Garcia's bosom and cried like a child. She was somewhere around twenty years older than the blonde, but for the time being, she sought comfort as though it had been the other way around; like a child seeking comfort from a mother. And Garcia gave it as unconditionally as a mother would.

A/N

Gah, too many people on the team, I can't cram them all into taking care of her, damn it! I have such a difficulty with juggling several characters at once!

Anyway. I feel like this story never ends, I expected it to be much shorter, to be honest. Well. I've said it before and I'm gonna say it again, the muse does what the muse wants. ^^

As always, reviews/feedback are appreciated! :D