CHAPTER 24
MY IRRESISTIBLE CHOCOLATE TEMPTATION
Angie woke up with a strong desire for a weekend. A weekend off, that is. But it was only the third day of the week and, even if it were Friday, that only meant that she had two more days of training and classes. They were occupied almost 24/7, without a chance to stop and relax. She knew what she had signed up for, but she had been feeling quite off for the past 24 hours.
The day started with fitness training, as usual. Then they had a class that explained how forensic science should relate its findings to the court – the right way of presenting evidence, official guidelines for FBI Agents and all sorts of boring legal stuff that needed to be memorized.
This time, Angie took a lot of notes. Most of what their teacher was saying was new to her. It felt good to start a new subject, one that she knew she would not excel in. That made her want to push herself to do well, to learn as much as she could…and ultimately to pass that final exam.
She wasn't a fan of the legal side of the job, but she was aware that she had to be precise and clear, using the right terminology and not crossing any lines in the future. God knows she had crossed some in the past.
At lunch time, she watched Bryan walk off with the other trainees, and she smirked contently when she saw them heading to the healthy bar. Apparently, he wasn't only doing it to please her, but he had learned the importance of eating healthy.
She walked over to the FBI building and she ended up at the ballistics division, for her first day on the job.
"Oh, hey. I didn't think you'd make it." The man she had spoken to before, greeted her.
"I never disregard a commitment. Unlike others." There was a specific person that she was mentally insulting at that moment. "Where do I start?"
He showed her a few guns that had been borderline destroyed during cases, and he asked her to carefully revise them and clean out the gun shot residue and the insides, in hopes of being able to continue using the weapons.
She did have to have at least a little bit of knowledge, in order to do this job, but he was pleasantly surprised when she started asking questions, using terms that an ordinary person would not even know. She was, after all, quite an extraordinary girl.
An hour went by and she had less than half an hour left before her afternoon class. The guy handed her two food coupons, valid at any of the food court restaurants, and granting her a full 3-course meal.
"Two?" She raised an eyebrow. She had expected just one.
"Yes. Lunch and dinner. I don't want you to starve. Plus, I'm only going to see you every other day, so…" He smiled at her and waved goodbye.
Two full meals, in return for touching amazing guns for an hour. To Angie that was awesome.
Garcia woke up on Wednesday morning, sweating. She was breathing heavily and something was bothering her. That was the same exact state that she had been in, for the past three weeks. No matter how many hot chamomile teas she drank, there was no calm sleep for her anymore. She had found herself desperate enough to be nibbling on valerian leaves a few days ago, for dinner, in hopes of getting some peace and calm. She got none. That had been the day when she had stalked Emily in the chat. And each day after that was getting worse until Garcia found herself unable to close her eyes without seeing one specific scene and hearing one specific announcement. She couldn't take it anymore. She had to do something. And only one thing was on her mind.
She hopped out of bed, her hair sticking out as if she had been electrocuted, her pajama nearly falling off her bum, her black nail polish halfway chopped off and her overall appearance being a whole lot of a mess. But it wasn't her outside that she needed to take care of. It was the inside, that huge and pure heart of hers and that beautiful rainbow-colored soul needed some fixing.
Before she could even grab her favorite mug, she opened her computer and found herself composing an e-mail that she wasn't sure she was even going to send.
Hey there, stud :)
I know this e-mail account is for urgent situations only, but this kind of falls under that category.
It's Emily...
She's spiraling. She disappeared. Yes. Again.
We don't know how to help her. She closed herself off and ran away, as she always does. But this time it's different. Last time I went to visit her in London and it was great fun, but now we don't even know where she is. Well, I mean, I do. Obviously. But nobody else does. And she's just a whole lot of a mess.
We had a case. I can't discuss it and I'm sorry for being so vague, but it went wrong. I don't know what, but something went horribly wrong. It was three weeks ago. Emily has not been herself ever since. She's been sleeping on the couch, in her office, working late every night. It's as if she wants to make-up for what happened. But we all know it wasn't her fault. She just doesn't want to listen. You know how she is - God, I love her with everything I have inside of me, but she is the most stubborn, self-hating person I know. And I wish we could help. I wish I could help. And I tried. But she rejected me. And, as we all know, I am a very loveable person. I'm not used to rejection, so that hurt!
Ever since that case, we've sort of been on probation. All we do is paper work and boring stuff. We haven't been out on the field and I doubt it's happening any time soon. Not with this mandatory week off that the Higher Powers forced us on.
Reid has closed off, again.
JJ is blaming herself for not being able to get through to Emily.
Rossi just argued with his daughter, because she wants to go to Europe for a couple of weeks with her husband and kid, but he doesn't want to heart it. Letting women go is not his forte. Well, not anymore. Not when he keeps finding himself forced to let go of Emily, each time she runs.
I guess Emily leaving is affecting everyone. We try not to let it, because that's what we were taught in the Academy - to leave all personal drama behind. But it is hard when the person you love so deeply and care so much about is also your boss and they command you not to care about them.
You were always the only one who could break through the darkness and go straight to the soul of this woman, even when JJ and Rossi would fail to do so. It has always been you. And that was great, because we had you, we counted on you...we always knew you would make it right.
Honestly, the BAU has not been the same without you around. Yes, we had some fun times, but I have bawled my eyes out on too many occasions. And so have the others. A few nights ago, JJ had a complete breakdown at Rossi's. He had invited us for a barbeque and, when I mentioned Emily, JJ darted off to the bathroom. You should have seen Will - poor thing, he was pale as a canvass and he didn't know how to handle JJ. We all pretended like we didn't know. But we did. And it hurts. And this is all Emily's fault. But, somehow, we can't hate her for it. All we want is to have her back here and have her get better. It was hard enough to get over you leaving. And we still haven't healed. We probably never will. Actually. We definitely never will.
But now Emily...
Am I a bad person for having this recurring dream where we are told that the BAU is done with and I exhale with pleasure, because as much as that would suck, it would also mean no more hurt and no more pain? Am I bad? Please tell me I'm not bad! I'll go to church or whatever it is that you, people, do. I'll have an exorcism! I'll drink Holy water. I'd do anything to make this nightmare leave me alone. But I'm scared that one day, in real life, this is going to happen and I'm terrified that the real Garcia won't be able to handle the news as calmly as the Garcia in the nightmare did.
We miss you.
We are worried about Emily.
We are on a damned week off.
We are sad.
We are confused.
We hate everything about that.
Please, e-mail me back. Send me a photo of Mini Morgan. Tell your beautiful wife how lucky she is to have you by her side, because, trust me, you being by someone's side is a blessing from Heaven, my friend. We knew it before, but we are never going to forget it now.
Never going to forget you.
I miss you.
I love you, my irresistible chocolate temptation.
Garcia (a.k.a. BabyGirl, your soulmate in Heaven and Hell, in case you have forgotten me)
Instinctively, she hit the Send button. This was supposed to be a rough draft of her feelings, but she wasn't upset by the fact that it was now an official e-mail. Signed and delivered. Plus, if she had a problem with that, she could do some hacking and delete it within five seconds. Or less. She just didn't want to.
Second class for the day started with a very brief introduction, by a young guy.
"Hello, I am your instructor for the Tactical and Defensive Driver Training and Evasive Skills course, otherwise known as TDE." When he welcomed them to the "safe driving" section of their studies, Angie rolled her eyes.
"Watch me suck at this." She whispered to Bryan.
It made her frown. That day was not her day, at all. Both subjects she was kind of bad at, happened to come up simultaneously. But she knew this was coming and she knew she'd have to work hard. Some classes covered the things she liked, while others were a foreign concept to her. Her only hope was that she wouldn't have set the bar too high, having been good at the previous subjects so far. It would be so embarrassing to fail in something, after a long list of initial achievements.
"Damn! Finally, something you're not good at!" He smiled.
He, on the other hand, has had previous training and he had driven the SWAT car numerous times before, in risky situations. He was going to be awesome at this.
"Not good? Dude, I suck! And when I say I suck at it, I'm putting it very mildly. Just wait for it. Feel free to laugh and make fun of me. It would be a nice distraction." She chuckled quietly while the instructor spoke about safety and whatnot.
"Plus, contrary to popular belief, I'm not good at everything. I just choose to only do the things I'm good at, so that it appears that way. And this, my dear, is called effective self-branding, using market-based selection." She added with a smirk.
"Hey you, Cheerleader at the first row!" The instructor called out for her when she abused her whispering privileges in class. "I take it that you already know everything and you don't need any further instructions. Let's see how well you do behind the wheel then. Everyone, outside!" He called out grumpily.
Angie did not like him, not even the tiniest little bit. He was young, cocky, arrogant, his voice made him sound like any self-entitled trust fund idiot, and overall, she already hated this class.
Bryan started laughing, as she had given him the green light to do so. However, she still slapped his shoulder.
"What? Too early?" He gave her a look.
"Save your strength for when I'm actually behind the wheel." She hissed at him and followed the crowd of trainees that were heading to the driving range.
Once outside, she frowned as the instructor tossed her the keys to a huge black SUV, the one actual FBI Agents drive.
"Shit..." She mumbled, climbing on to the driver's seat.
The instructor pointed at a route that had to be done and she sighed. This was not fun, at all.
She started the car and drove off slowly, doing her best to avoid the numerous cones and obstacles, to the point where she drove off the road, just so she would not make any more mess.
When she finished her round and got out of the car, she looked back, only to see cones still rolling on the pavement and sensors beeping uncontrollably.
"Congratulations, Trainee Hunter! You just ran over five innocent bystanders, on your way to the crime scene, which you actually drove by without even noticing, as you were off-road. Also, the enemy had put sensors on the road, to detect any movement. So yeah, you have been made and if this were a real life situation, you and your team would be dead, along with the hostages that were counting on you." The instructor made her feel like a complete failure, much like what she actually was.
"Wow, I thought you were exaggerating when you said you sucked at this." Bryan whispered and, even after giving him permission to joke about it, she took offence.
"My advice to you, if you want to survive the cuts - zip your mouth in class and pay some attention to your instructor. Okay?" The young driver said. "Now, can someone please volunteer? It won't be hard to top...that…her." He pointed at Angie and she shrugged guiltily.
One thing worried her. Cuts? This was not a modeling competition, why on Earth would there be cuts? Or had she simply misunderstood?
Bryan grabbed the keys from her hand and he hopped in the car, instantly maneuvering towards the obstacles that had meanwhile been re-positioned by the teacher's assistant. He avoided every single cone and he also managed to avoid the road sensors. He stopped the car at a secure spot, near the place he noticed had been laid out like a crime scene.
"Okay. Apparently, opposites attract." The instructor rolled his eyes while his statement insulted Angie and complimented Bryan's skills, at the same time.
For the rest of the driving training, she kept quiet, barely saying a word. She tried really hard to fake interest in cars. They were just not her thing. At all. She knew how to drive one, but when it came to make and model, she was clueless. Angie classified cars under the following categories: woooah; kind of nice; meh and atrocious. There was nothing in between.
The class went on for an eternity, as far as she was concerned. She pushed herself to try and get better, but there was no chance in Hell she would ever volunteer to drive, ever again.
"As future FBI Agents, you have to learn how to drive fast, in risky situations, avoiding causing any harm to people and damaging property. You also have to be hyper vigilant when behind the wheel - keep your eyes on the road and keep your mind in the game. You might have to discuss case tactics with your team and you might be asked to report to your superiors, while driving. There is no excuse and no place for any errors. You must be 200 percent confident in your skills, before getting behind the wheel. This takes years of practice and a lot of hard work. I know driving seems like such a given, since we all have a license and, probably even own a vehicle. But driving, the way an FBI Agent is required to, is not as easy as you might think. So, next time I see you, I expect you to have revised the rules of street driving in the United States and you will be tested on a special field for training purposes. This was just a taste of what to expect. And a rude awakening for me, as to what I can expect from you." With his last words, he shot a disapproving glance at Angie and then dismissed the class.
It was only about 9 pm, which gave them plenty of free time in the evening. Some of the trainees suggested going to a bar again, but Angie was not in the mood to celebrate anything. Or to have fun.
Bryan decided to hang out with the others, so Angie grabbed a book and a portable battery-powered LED light with glittery pastel pink tassels hanging from the upper surface. If anyone saw her, she'd look like the most basic, stupid young girl. Well, that was if they didn't notice the title of the book she held in her other hand - Serial Killers: types, characteristics and how to deal with them. It was the second book that Barbara, the librarian, had suggested to Angie, and she was eager to start reading it, even if she was only halfway done with the one on psychopaths.
She skipped through the grass, headed to a very special place. She had spotted it as soon as she had arrived at the Academy and she had been longing for a moment of peace and quiet, when she could go sit and relax there.
She sat down on the broken wooden bench and the crackling sound of the wood made her feel something familiar. She smiled. It reminded her of something from her past. She adjusted the lamp and opened the book, reading the first few words of the introduction.
What seemed like just a minute later, someone walked over to her side, startling her.
"May I sit?" He said.
She looked up and saw a familiar face, so she nodded while closing her book, noticing that she was already at chapter five. Apparently, hours had fled.
"Which class is that for?" The man asked curiously.
"Just...some." She shrugged, because it wasn't like her to go bragging about having taken an extra book, or two. She didn't care about people's appraisal. All she wanted was to be prepared with just enough knowledge for when, one day, she would be out on the field and in need of an escape.
"Behavioral analysis?" He smirked. "Guess I found your weak spot."
"I never hid it. I just don't go talking about it." She said calmly. "Is it even appropriate to talk to you, after class hours? I mean, what's the rule? Because, don't take this personally, but I won't be kicked out of the Academy because of you...in case this is inappropriate."
"You really want to be here, don't you?" To this question Angie really wanted to reply with a simple: are you dumb?
"I don't think any trainee is here against their own will." Vague was the way to go.
"And you know how to avoid replying a direct question." He smirked, wanting to see her worked up.
"Look, Dan, whatever game you're playing, can you choose a different opponent?" She sighed.
"Nope." He said calmly, standing up and walking off.
She opened the book again and decided to forget about the reality, but rather, to learn something new and exciting.
