Disclaimer: like I said, nothing but my evil plan (TO RULE THE WORLD!)
Thank you to Jen, harrietamidala1691, Lucie, teal-lover, reader, name, andNymphadora-CullenBAU for reviewing. Thank you extra to Lucie for your awesome tips for my story, and I hope I did you justice! I appreciate it, all of you!
...
Morgan was sitting at his desk, utterly drained. He couldn't believe he was gone. No, he rationalized, Reid wasn't gone. He was in the break room, pouring truck-loads of sugar into his coffee. Or sitting in his desk behind him, speed-reading a book, and memorizing every word. Or maybe even lecturing some poor soul on some obscure book written in the eighteenth century. No he couldn't be gone.
Rossi sauntered over. "You want to talk about it." Morgan just looked up at him.
"Okay," Rossi stated. "Let's go to my office."
...
"It doesn't feel like he's gone, ya no? It's like-like an extended vacation." Morgan sat in the chair across from David Rossi, looking at a little spot on the floor, doing something he had never done with anyone but Reid; pouring his heart out.
"And he's been on so many death runs, so many times that he could of died. I was prepared then. In Illinois, in Georgia, in Texas…but not now. Not now, when I find him dead in his apartment. I always knew this job would kill him," Morgan gave a little humourless laugh. "He did, too. Everyone did. He wouldn't have quit.
"Though he was always worried about turning out like his mom. Alone in a sanitarium. He should have known," the depressed agent suddenly looked up. "He should have known that we wouldn't have let that happen. If he would have become a schizophrenic, we would have visited him, helped him. It's not as if he's really got anyone else. Because no matter how much I ever teased him, he was like the little brother I never had, and this team, we're a family."
"I know, Morgan. How will we close his case if we weren't?" Rossi finally broke the spell.
"So now what?"
"Now," Rossi got up from his comfortable chair. "You go see Garcia, and I go over the Hankel file."
...
Garcia was sitting in her chair, clicking away on her keyboard. Morgan was absent-mindedly staring at her, and then went in.
"Hey, Garcia." Morgan sighed. She stopped typing and turned around. Her eyes were puffy and red, and her face was streaked with tears. She'd been crying.
"Hey." She sniffed. "Do you have anything for me?" she turned back toward the multiple screens.
"Yes, see if Charles Hankel has any family members in and around Georgia."
She whipped around to face Morgan and stared him hard in the face.
"Why." She asked coldly.
Morgan was a little taken aback, but answered softly, "Garcia, you don't want to know."
"Morgan," she started. "…okay." And she turned back to her computer.
"Thanks, Baby Girl." He walked out the door. He knew she was stressed, but exhausted. She really wouldn't want to know. It would only add to the list of things that she already thought about at night.
...
The Next Day…
Morgan got out of his car and looked up at the building. It had been his personal hell for the past three days. Garcia had come up with nothing. Nada. No one even remotely suspicious. All of the Hankels were either dead, or had moved as far away from Charles as possible. And, Morgan thought, If they had been around to help Charles and Tobias, Charles to the hospital and Tobias to therapy, then Reid wouldn't have been tortured in Georgia, wouldn't have even been in Georgia, and would be alive right now. Morgan slammed his fist onto the trunk of his car, and walked towards the doors of hell.
...
"So let's go over the profile again." Hotch was standing as he looked over the ragged group of profilers plus JJ and Garcia. He still wouldn't look at Morgan.
"Hotch, we've been over the profile so many times, I could recite it in my sleep," Prentiss complained uncharacteristically. "Face it, Hotch; we've hit a brick wall." Hotch glared at her, opening his mouth to make an angry retort.
"She's right, you know," Rossi intervened before an all out fist fight could erupt. These agents were a little pent up. "We didn't find a knife at the scene, or in any garbage cans. There was too much blood on the couch and the floor to get a clear shot at DNA. The only thing we know other than the profile is that the unsub has size 8 men's shoe with worn out soles!"
Hotch sat down and rubbed his face with one hand. It was amazing he didn't leave a permanent red mark on his face from how many times he had done that lately.
"Okay." Hotch said, resigned. "What do you propose we do?"
Unfortunately, no one had any suggestions.
"Let's go over the profile again, then."
...
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