A/N: I apologize heavily for the late update, but hopefully you guys get the hectic demands of the holidays and nursing school! I'm back at it now, and will try to update as frequently as I can. I'm really glad you guys enjoyed the last chapter! I spent so much time going through it and editing it and incorporating scenes, and overall I'm pretty happy with your response to this story! You guys are amazing, and this is only the beginning!

As far as the trailer idea I presented last time goes, I am going to get started on that as soon as possible. I'm still looking for appropriate songs to add in it, so that may take a while. I was thinking of using the song "Honeythief" by Halou, but it's not set in stone. Like I said last chapter, should any of you have any song ideas, feel free to suggest them! I'm open to all your ideas!

Without further ado, here is the seventh chapter. Hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or the plot (script) of Criminal Minds, nor do I owe unintentional references to other TV shows.

.

.

The piercing shriek of his phone alarm jerked Morgan out of his slumber, the man grunting through the pounding heart that jumped to his throat from the shock. He slapped a hand out and, after a moment of fumbling his grip around the cell, turned the alarm off. Ahhh, sweet silence.

Morgan huffed out a breath, rubbing his sleep-marred face. Slowly, he shifted onto his back, stretching out his arm to the space beside him. He frowned and peeled his eyes open when he discovered the empty, cold spot on his bed, sheets wrinkled and tossed back, where Reid had resided the previous night. The young doctor was long gone.

Morgan closed his eyes, smacking his lips. It was common for either of them to slip away in the early hours of the morning after one of their nights together, but usually Reid ensured that Morgan knew he was leaving. He tried not to think too much on it as he forced himself to sit up, sighing at the ache and exhaustion of his lower extremities.

Reid had been particularly, and curiously, insatiable last night.

He shivered at his room's biting, cold atmosphere on his naked body, grabbing his shirt from where Reid had dropped it over the side of the bed. He stood up from the worn mattress, eyes crinkling at the now-dried mess of semen on his abdomen and partly on his chest from where they failed to clean it the previous night. The blankets had to be a mess too. Biting his lip, he went into his closet for a towel to wrap around his waist and returned to his bedside. He leaned over and ripped the soiled sheets from the mattress, intent on starting a new load of laundry before work.

After he quickly let Clooney out and placed the dirty sheets and shirt (and, once he retrieved them from off the entrance floor, his pants) in the washer, he headed into his room and pulled out clean attire for work before heading into the shower.

Moments later, Morgan sighed out his satisfaction and contentment as the hot cascade of water beat down on his sore muscles, raining down with a reverence and relaxing his shoulders, his back. He grabbed the loofah from the shelf and started scrubbing his midsection, ridding himself of the crusty reminder of his and Reid's night together.

He had mixed feelings about last night. When Reid showed up on his doorstep, Morgan felt a surplus of emotions: surprise and shock being the most prominent; worry and fear because Reid looked a downright mess of terror and determination and sorrow; anger because Reid wasn't dressed for the October evening chill; and knee-buckling happiness and a vague sense of hope that Reid came to him and maybe he wasn't so mad anymore, that he was willing to talk.

But then Morgan tasted the wine on Reid's tongue and the latter appeared to be less and less viable. It wasn't as though he had taken the true time to mourn that, however, having sunk into Reid just as heavily as Reid sunk into him.

Morgan didn't know where they stood though. He wasn't sure if Reid had forgiven him, or he hadn't and last night was just something he needed following the events of Dowd's case. He'd so like to believe the former, but his heart and brain knew that more than likely, it was not so.

And Morgan jolted as he suddenly remembered one particular detail from last night. He chalked up Reid's overall behavior to be the result of his drinking; normally, if not always, Reid was never one to be as bold as he had been, as take-charge as he portrayed. He hardly ever demanded anything, instead opting to follow Morgan's lead and was still tentative in his approach, regardless of the fact that they had been doing this for the better part of a year. Last night was certainly different, but Morgan also knew that Reid tended to be a bit more impulsive when he's had a drink in him, so everything could be explained from the wine.

But wine or not, Dowd or not, something else was off about Reid last night. Disregarding his drinking and killing Dowd, Reid had been considerably distressed. His persistent begging, his desire for more… Morgan initially thought that Reid meant more comfort, more stimulation, more sex, but that hadn't been it. And Morgan failed to deliver, and Reid grew more and more distressed, begging for more and more and more.

Morgan scrubbed harder, his thoughts darkening with turmoil.

Just what was it?

What the hell was he supposed to give?

.

.

It was only after he had made his hasty retreat from Morgan's home around five that morning, after retrieving his stained shirt and wayward pants and underwear from where they were strewn about Morgan's house, after he had hitched a cab ride back to his apartment, shivering violently and reprimanding himself for not bringing a jacket with him last night, after he stepped into his decently warm entrance hall, locking the door behind him, that he allowed for everything to process and hit him all at once.

He had slapped a hand over his mouth as an obscene whimper erupted past his lips, heart pulsing and sending hot streams of shame running throughout his body. He shook, he quaked, he trembled.

Oh God, he wanted to throw up.

His minor hangover had nothing on the internal agony he was feeling.

What had he done?

That phrase ran through his mind in a repetitive mantra, cutting through his throbbing mind with a fierce vengeance until every thought, every sense, every synapse in his body was screaming it at him.

What had he done?

His breaths shook from him, leaving his lungs with soft gasps. His body was shuddering fiercely from something deeper than the cold. Tiny, betraying keens and tearless sobs vibrated past his quivering lips. But his eyes remained stubbornly dry, unable or unwilling to produce the tears needed, and leaving him a mess of heaving breaths and a bleeding heart as he sunk to the ground, back resting against his front door.

He didn't know how long he remained there, delving deeper into his self-loathing thoughts. It had to have been a long time, probably days. Did he even care at that moment? He stared without seeing, lost in his mind, and he missed the dawn of the day streaming through the windows in his kitchen and living area, filling the room with new light.

Reid only knew how much time had passed when he flinched out of his daze at long last and rapidly glanced at his watch, discovering with a shock that if he didn't start getting ready now, he'd definitely be late for work, and that was excluding the time needed to get the coffee ready.

He cringed, shakily standing up. Walking toward his room, he cringed again as he thought about going into work, where he'd be less able to avoid Morgan and his questions and his presence and the ache of being around him—

Reid slammed his hand on the wall adjacent to the bathroom, the harsh thud penetrating the stiff environment and sending sparks of fire shooting through his brain, causing him to temporarily stumble and moan. He intently focused on the new pain, welcoming it if only to serve as a distraction. Inhaling deeply to work through the pulse in his temples, Reid walked into his room, grabbed his prepared clothes from his closet, and quickly stepped into the bathroom, thoroughly unprepared to face this day.

Little more than an hour later, Reid was at his desk at the bureau, nursing a headache that was a mixture of caffeine withdrawal and a miniature hangover. Blearily, he leaned into the index finger and thumb rubbing at his eyes' inner corners, struggling to maintain conscious composure. He shifted his bag closer to his desk on the floor and stood up, nearly trudging toward the break room. He needed strong coffee, and he needed it now.

Reid sighed blissfully when he discovered the break room empty of agents, relishing in the solitude as he headed for the coffee pot. Pouring the steaming, bitter liquid into his signature black mug, he pulled out the canister of sugar. He paused after placing the pot back into the machine, closing his eyes as a particularly nasty stab flashed throughout his brain. He opened his eyes, and had to blink multiple times as black dotted across his vision. Shaking his head, he quickly poured his sugar into his coffee and stirred it in, desperate for the rush of caffeine to enter his system.

Once prepared, he took a tentative sip of the scalding drink, sighing deeply through his nostrils at the overly sweet taste, and turned to walk out of the break room and back to his desk.

He inaudibly gasped and stopped short at the sudden appearance of JJ right in front of him, feeling the coffee slosh around slightly within his mug but thankfully didn't spill over the lip.

"Oh!" JJ exclaimed, just as surprised to nearly run into Reid. Her look of shock rapidly sunk into a sheepish smile. "Sorry, Reid."

"I-It's okay," Reid said, a nervous grin tugging at his lips, feeling his jostled heart rate return back to normal rhythm.

For a moment, he had been worried that it had been Morgan who he'd see, coming in for the opportunity to speak to Reid and confront him about last night. To Reid's immense relief, the older man hadn't been the one to walk in; however, the relief was gone just as quickly as it came, replaced with impending worry, for JJ was another person that he was apprehensive of meeting.

JJ's smile thinned and she nodded slowly. She gestured toward the space behind Reid and said, "I just… wanted to get some coffee before—"

"Oh yeah! Of course, go ahead, sorry," Reid said, moving out of the way as JJ stepped around him to get to the cupboard above the coffee machine. Reid pressed his lips together and took a step toward the door, ready to leave behind the tense atmosphere that just being in a room with JJ created…

"Hey, JJ?" he suddenly said, turning back around.

Internally, he balked at his behavior. As soon as the words left his mouth, he twitched with the intention of squeaking out a "never mind" and leaving the room as quickly as his lead-like legs would take him. He fleetingly regarded the unlikely option that JJ hadn't heard him, but it was a wasted thought; JJ turned around, doe eyes meeting Reid's curiously.

"Yeah?"

"You've, uh…" Reid licked his lips, his abrupt surge of courage diminishing. "You've been avoiding me."

JJ froze for a second before returning her gaze back to the cupboard, reaching for the powder cream.

"You've been avoiding me too, Reid," she murmured.

Reid nodded, hardly feeling the sting of pain from hearing her utter his surname rather than Spence. The dread and worry he felt slowly fading into guilt at the sight of her apparent sadness. He hadn't meant to make her sad… But how was he supposed to tell her the truth of why he hadn't truly spoken to her since the Redskins game? How was he supposed to tell her anything, without revealing everything?

He thought of Morgan and how he hadn't been able to keep their arrangement between himself and Reid, telling Garcia every detail that he had sworn was just between the two men. He reminisced the revelation and the arguments the followed afterward with bitterness tainting the edges of his memory, but at the same time, he felt so envious of Morgan. Garcia was certainly an excellent confidant, comforting and maternal and witty, and even if she didn't have the answers, she'd be the first to tell you so, and you always left her with a lighter heart anyway. She made you feel better.

Reid had Gideon in his corner, sure, but he didn't feel right going to Gideon the way Morgan could go to Garcia. Gideon was a mentor, a somewhat father-figure if anything, in Reid's life, and Garcia was like that friend in school you could tell anything to, things you couldn't tell your father.

Lack of friends and lack of a father in Reid's life certainly made it that much more difficult to find someone he trusted enough to talk to.

As he buried himself deep into his thoughts, Reid became aware that JJ had turned back around to look at him over her shoulder, and that her brows were lowered.

"Reid?" JJ asked, placing the powder container onto the counter as she turned to face him. Concern shined through her blue irises. "Are you okay?"

Reid took in her question with a start, and instantly he nodded his head, smiling tightly in a vain attempt to quell her worry.

"Yeah! Yeah, it's just… It's been a rough couple of days, that's all," Reid shrugged, taking another sip of his drink.

The corner of JJ's mouth twitched, but she still looked unconvinced. He could feel the momentary break in the tension slipping away, the awkwardness of their encounter gradually returning. Reid swallowed his sip, clearing his throat with a shaky breath.

"… Look, JJ," Reid started, his voice a tired croak from his usual level of enthusiasm. "I'm not sure what you expected, or what you weren't expecting, at the end of the Redskins game. I feel like you left that night believing that I was of the mind that it was a date between us, or that I wanted something different, and—and I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable for any reason or…"

"You didn't."

Reid's smile returned briefly and ducked his head, swirling the coffee around the mug mindlessly. He didn't believe her.

"No, really," JJ interjected, shaking her head. She paused, and then laughed quietly to herself, muttering something that sounded like assumptions are the mother of all screw-ups. Reid didn't have the time to frown and ask her what she meant by that before she continued, "I had a role in the way things ended that night… and how things progressed since then. I should be saying that I'm sorry. So… I'm sorry, Spence."

Reid smiled again, this time a little fuller at the return of his nickname. "You didn't really do anything wrong, but apology accepted. And, well… I just wanted to let you know, and hopefully you truly take my word for it, that I really did just want to get to know you better, JJ. I didn't have a lot of friends growing up, as you can imagine… M-Morgan is… He's great and all, and so is Garcia. But I seeing as I work with you too, I just thought—"

"We can be friends."

Reid glanced up again, trying and failing to hide his shock. JJ was facing him completely, posture much more relaxed now than it had been before, and her smile was genuine and soft, reaching her bright eyes easier. Reid's eyes didn't reduce from their sudden widening, his surprise punching through his lungs. Could it really have been that easy?

"Really?" he asked, a small level of uncertainty still fluttering inside his chest.

JJ rolled her eyes good-naturedly, her smile growing until she was beaming, and then she chuckled, "Of course! I'd love to be your friend, Doctor Reid."

Reid huffed out a laugh, hiding how close he was to sagging with the overwhelming, crushing sensation of elation and happiness he felt crashing upon his wounded heart. "Please. Call me Spence."

He smiled even wider at the sound of her twinkling laughter.

.

.

"Hey, Garcia."

"Oh! Dear Jesus! Morgan!"

A large puff of air, and then the room was flooded with light with a small click. Morgan blinked slightly at the sudden brightness, and turned his eyes from the ceiling to the doorway, where Garcia was standing, hand on her chest, firm glare fixated on him. He almost laughed. Almost. But he just turned his eyes back toward the ceiling, sinking deeper into the comfort of the couch with a sigh.

"When did you get in here? How did you get in here?" Garcia questioned, a snarky bite to her words as she stalked to the opposite end of the office with the monitors.

This time Morgan did allow a small chuckle to rumble from his throat. In reply, he held up single key on a small keyring, twirling it around his index finger.

"You are a genius when hiding your tracks online, sweetness," he smirked. "But I can still figure out that you hide your spare key under the pink welcome mat that you, for some reason, have in front of your door."

"Oooogh!"

Garcia came over, swiping her key from Morgan's grasp and simultaneously grabbing a fluffy throw pillow from the couch, only to launch it straight at Morgan's face. The man jumped as the pillow made contact with his face, his arms flailing slightly. Morgan cried out in appalled shock, muffled behind the fabric. Scandalized, he wrenched the pillow from his face and mock-glared at the woman returning back to her desk chair.

"Damn, woman!" Morgan exclaimed.

"Sorry, sugar, but no breaking into my humble abode without my prior knowledge goes unpunished," she said frankly, sinking into her chair and grasping onto her coffee thermos with both hands, raising it up to her mouth to take a sip.

"Pshh… Sneaky Morgan, 1. Oracle, zip."

"I'll throw my coffee at you."

"You wouldn't waste your precious supply like that."

"You know you'll always be my only exception."

Morgan snorted, laughing quietly to himself as he returned his stare up to the ceiling, unconsciously hugging the pillow close to his chest.

Garcia had been smiling despite her prior irritation, but the smile was gone from her voice as she said, "But seriously, you broke into my space at an ungodly hour—"

"It's only 9:30."

"—and you're lying on my couch like this is your own personal therapist's office… What happened?"

Morgan's face smoothed back down into a resigned soberness, and he turned his eyes back up toward the ceiling. He still felt the conflict rise within him at the prospect of talking to Garcia about what happened, the feeling swelling up even more now that Reid was aware of Garcia's involvement. But now that he had let the cat out of the bag, so to speak, he found it difficult to keep things away from Garcia.

"I think I made an even bigger mess out of things," Morgan mumbled, running a hand over his face.

"What are you talking about? What makes you say that?" Garcia said, and Morgan could hear the soft rumble of wheels rolling on carpet as Garcia glided over.

Morgan bit his lips, unsure whether he should reveal the next bit of information. "Reid, he… He shot someone last night. Killed someone. First time."

"… Oh."

At Garcia's small reply, Morgan deflated even further, chewing on his bottom lip. "Yeah," he whispered. "And…"

"And what? Morgan?"

"I slept with him," Morgan said simply, finding it pointless to beat around the bush. "Afterwards. He came over, and… I slept with him."

There was a beat of silence.

And then—

"You stupid, stupid, idiotic, moronic-!" Morgan was still reeling from the impossible speed in which Garcia stood up, yanked the pillow from underneath Morgan's arms, and begin smacking him with him. Hard. He yelped, hands raised in defense against the raging scorn of the woman above him.

"Garcia—ah! – Hang on, stop!"

Garcia sent one last, well-aimed smack to Morgan's face before launching the pillow at his chest, plopping back down on her seat, arms crossed with a harsh sigh. Morgan wrenched the pillow away from his body and tossed it toward his feet, away from Garcia's reach in case of further assault.

"Talk," Garcia all but growled, and if Morgan at first had no clear indication of just how frightening an angry Penelope Garcia could be, he knew first-hand now. Morgan swallowed roughly, affected by a combination of cowering before the seething woman and the shame that flooded through his veins.

"It wasn't supposed to happen," he mumbled.

Garcia scoffed.

"It wasn't," Morgan bit out, quickly gaining his defense. "It really wasn't, I went home after we got back, and I had a little to drink. Not too much, but enough. And then… And then Reid just shows up, and he had been drinking too, I guess, and-and I swear, I wasn't planning on it! He shows up and… it just happened."

Morgan was a little surprised that Garcia didn't immediately cut in after he finished speaking; rather, the woman sat still and quiet, absorbing all the new information. Morgan cupped a hand over his eyes, fingers rubbing at brows.

"I know I messed up. I know," Morgan said. "But this is what we've always done. I guess, or maybe I know, he needed it, and I… We've always done it this way! But now everything's all messed up and different and now I just… Well now, I just don't know what's going to happen. I don't know what to do."

"I don't know what to tell you, Morgan," Garcia spoke up at last, her face now creased with sympathetic concern, anger wiped clean from her expression. She nervously nibbled on her pointer finger, lightly staining the knuckle with her bold, red lipstick. "This… I don't know if this is something I can really help you out with."

"I know," Morgan said, nodding his understanding. He closed his eyes, and sighed. "He probably hates me."

Garcia dropped her hand from her mouth. "He doesn't hate—"

"He freaked out the last time something happened between us, Garcia," Morgan reminded her. "And that time, we hardly did much. This time…"

"But there's a difference, isn't there?" Garcia prodded, resting her elbows on her knees. "He initiated it this time. How can he hate you for something he wanted to happen?"

"He didn't know what he wanted, he was drunk!" Morgan said, a note of plea slipping into his voice. "His judgment was compromised, my judgement was compromised."

Garcia pressed her lips together, casting her gaze down. "He… He had just killed someone, Morgan. You have to remember what that was like for you, at least. He had to have been in a bad place, and you were the one he sought out. Maybe… Maybe that means something. Right? I don't know. God, you'd think after hanging around profilers for a few years, the ability would just rub off on me. Guess not."

The light shot at humor was not missed on Morgan, but he could only offer a weak chuckle in response, his mouth tightening into a half-hearted smirk.

"It might mean something," he murmured, hands folded over his stomach and staring up at the pale ceiling. "Just haven't figured that bit out yet."

Garcia smiled sympathetically.

His visit to Garcia's office didn't last much longer than that. The woman took a studying glance at her computer monitor and stood up from her seat, towering over Morgan with a decision on her face before uttering a clear, "Out."

At Morgan's baffled look, Garcia's smile thinned down to a line of exasperation.

"Gotta face the music sometime, Derek, 'cause you can't continue to hide in here," Garcia said simply, ushering the man out of the couch and toward the exit. "Don't make me whack you with my pillow again."

Morgan left voluntarily after that (because, damn, Garcia had an arm on her), but not before he looked over his shoulder and caught sight of the bullpen security cameras pulled up on Garcia's computer screen right as Garcia shut the door in his face with a urgent gesture. Morgan stood staring at the closed door, not knowing whether to feel appalled at Garcia or thankful or what. He settled for shaking his head, a huff of amused air leaving his lungs before he turned and walked in the direction of the bullpen.

When he arrived, Reid's desk was void of the genius, chair rolled out from the alcove. Morgan's eyes flickered up to the break room just in time to catch Reid's form disappearing behind the door, mug in hand. He hesitated before easing into his own seat, pulling forth the abandoned paperwork from his inbox. It would do no good to try and catch Reid alone; the young man was clearly vulnerable (for what reason, Morgan begged to know) and Morgan cornering him would only serve for Reid to withdraw into himself even more than he already had. So Morgan ducked into his work, slowly sifting through the reports.

He frowned at the case report of one Lionel Gill as a distinct sound reached his ears. A sound of amusement. A chuckle. More specifically, Reid's chuckle. Morgan glanced up and immediately found the source: Reid and JJ were emerging from the break room, a mug of coffee in each of their hands, and both were sporting easy grins as they chattered quietly among themselves, both heading over to JJ's office on the top landing.

A startled smile pulled at Morgan's lips. Relief coursed throughout his chest as he observed the fortunate lack of tension between his colleagues; he was happy that they finally appeared to have worked things out. The rigid stance JJ adopted whenever Reid neared was gone, replaced with the more relaxed waltz Morgan was used to seeing, and Reid, though still endearingly awkward in his movements, released his stiff demeanor and was smiling widely.

Morgan's smile faltered ever so slightly, his jaw wobbling in its effort as he became aware of the sudden, negative shift inside him, and he snapped his gaze back down at his incomplete report. Yes, he was happy for Reid and JJ working things out between them at last, but Morgan knew that Reid's smile wouldn't remain genuine for long, not when Morgan was in his vicinity. The thought of his close friend being less than happy to see him stung. And made Morgan that much more determined to find out what was up with him.

Elle collapsed loudly onto her chair with a large, aggravated sigh, her purse thudding heavily where she dropped it on her desk. Morgan glanced up, bemused at her actions. Elle jutted out her lower lip in an exaggerated pout as she twisted her chair around to face him, arms crossed tightly over her arms.

"See, that right there was the equivalent to your behavior these past few days," Elle said in way if explanation, ridding herself of the comical posture with a smirk.

Morgan snorted, the darkening thoughts swirling around his mind evaporating in light of his friend's antics. "Don't you think you overplayed that a bit?"

"Maybe a little bit," Elle replied, white teeth glowing past her plum lips as she widened her smirk.

Derek chuckled, shaking his hand fondly.

"But seriously, Derek, what's been up lately?" Elle said, tilting her head. She raised her hands defensively as he looked up at her. "I'm not trying to pry too deeply. Just want to know what's wrong is all."

Derek hummed without amusement. "Nothing I can't handle," he answered, softening his expression as an indicator of his lack of offense toward her concern. "Really. Thanks."

Seemingly satisfied, Elle nodded. "Okay. Good," she said, and then proceeded to take a third of her files from her inbox and slip it into Reid's pile with casual indifference.

Morgan laughed.

He came to realize that Reid had taken a page out of his book, for he failed to see more than a glimpse of the genius all day. After bathroom and coffee breaks, Morgan would return to the bullpen and notice that Reid's pile would progressively be getting smaller. His suspicions as to where Reid was were solidified as he witnessed Reid's messenger bag disappear around the corner of JJ's office entrance multiple times throughout the day. Again, he quelled down the sting, forcing himself to try and be happy for the younger man for reconciling with JJ, despite the apparent fact that Reid would much rather utilize his time with the woman he had just yesterday been skittish around than with Morgan.

He grit his teeth, stretching a jovial smile across his face as he returned to the bullpen with Elle's demanded coffee later that afternoon.

.

.

Reid reveled in the relaxation of the day, sipping his coffee and thumbing quickly through the last of his reports. He quickly learned something about JJ: you didn't need to fill in the silence with words to be comfortable around her. When the desire arose, either of them would look up and strike a conversation, whether it be about work, what led them to the BAU, books and movies (Reid held back the majority of what he wanted to say so as to now frighten her away for the second time), though they never touched upon their personal lives except for the general topics. Reid was perfectly content with that.

But those conversations didn't need to last for hours or even for long minutes; a companionable silence settled over the two colleagues as they continued their work, each comfortable in their own way.

He had just reached his twentieth file in little over five minutes when he heard an awed, "How do you do that?"

Reid snatched his gaze away from Chelsea Rosen's report to look up at JJ, who was leaning her chin into her palm, elbow propped on her desk as she flicked her eyes in disbelief between Reid and the steadily growing pile of completed folder beside him. Amusement blossomed in the pit of his chest as he grinned, and he opened his mouth to formulate some sort of response when there was a knock on JJ's open door.

"JJ, I was wondering if y—" Garcia said as she strolled in, coming to a screeching halt in both words and movement when she noticed Reid occupying the chair in front of JJ's desk. Reid stiffened as well, eyes caught onto the frozen stature of Penelope Garcia.

JJ, not sensing the sudden tension in the room, removed her chin from her hand and lowered her brows in question. "Yeah, Garcia? What's up?"

"Uhhh." Garcia shook herself out of it, abruptly turning to face JJ, but taking rapid, occasional glances at Reid. "Sorry, um. Sorry! I didn't—I didn't know you had… company. I'll just—"

"Garcia, it's alright!" JJ called as Garcia twisted around to leave.

"No, no, it's fine! It was nothing, uh, okay," Garcia insisted, waving off JJ's confusion as she whirled out of the room, her heels thudding rhythmically on the carpet landing as she stalked away.

Perplexed, JJ looked over at Reid, who quickly schooled his expression to be one of (hopefully) mild confusion. "What do you suppose that was all about?" she asked.

Reid shrugged, shaking his head, though internally he felt himself sinking back into familiar despair.

.

.

It was about an hour before work let out when Reid made a snap decision. JJ had gone out to make an errand inter-building, so he closed the book he was reading in the meantime and laid it on the seat of his chair as he stood, swiftly walking out of the office with a blank mind and determined legs that knew where they were going.

Soon enough, sooner than he'd prefer, Reid was standing in front of the ajar door to Garcia's office, where he had a clear view of the technical analyst typing away at something concerning the monitor in front of her.

Reid nibbled on his bottom lip, hand pulsing to reach up and knock. Garcia's reaction to seeing him earlier that day had hit him hard, harder than he ever thought possible. He sighed quietly to himself, knowing that it was through his own fault that Garcia was borderline terrified to be around him. Chances are Garcia viewed his avoidant behavior to be that of anger toward the woman, and that could not be further from the truth. But Garcia, for all her intelligence, was not a profiler, and likely latched onto the first logical conclusion her mind went to like any normal person not trained to psychoanalyze every tiny detail.

Swallowing past the sick feeling in his gut, he raised his hand and rapped his knuckles gently on the door.

"Afternoon, mortal, how can I be—Reid!"

The cheerful candidness that Garcia usually voiced trailed off into a startled gasp as Garcia spun her chair around to greet the newcomer, only to come to an abrupt halt for the second time that day, bright eyes wide and mouth slack in bafflement. Reid shifted awkwardly in the doorway, the hand used to knock now lowered into his pocket, shoulders hunched inward as he struggled on what to say.

"Um… Hey, Garcia," he started lamely, clearing his throat softly when his voice threatened to crack. "Can I… Can I please come in?"

"Yeah," Garcia replied almost instantly, bolting out of her shock as she shot out of her seat, gesturing frantically toward the other chair. "Sit, sit, come on in!"

Shoving down his discomfort in sight of her fearful display of indulgence, Reid attempted a smile. "Garcia."

The woman ceased in her flailing, watching as Reid slowly walked into the office, sinking into the offered chair.

"Garcia, listen to me," Reid muttered, beckoning the analyst to join him in seated position. The woman snapped to attention, resuming her place in front of her computers, not once taking her eyes away from Reid's face. "I just… I wanted to apologize to you."

Garcia's eyes, if possible, got wider. "What! No, no, honey. If anyone has to apolo—"

"I do have to apologize," Reid cut in gently, feeling the choking sensation of doubt and anxiety slip away as he continued, "I wanted to say that… I don't place any blame on you for anything that's happened the past few weeks. Morgan... You were put into a position that probably caused you to believe that I was angry with you."

Reid took a moment to pause. Garcia recognized the silence for what it was, and responded to Reid's unspoken suggestion with a tentative nod, affirming his suspicions. Reid's smile became warmer.

"I'm not angry with you, Penelope," he said. "I never was. I just avoided you because I wasn't ready for anyone to know about any of this, and I wasn't ready to face you knowing that you found out. That's all it was. I was never mad at you. And—and I'm sorry for making you think I was."

As he spoke, Reid noted with a small pang of horrified fondness that Garcia's eyes were lightly welled up, and her mask of fear finally, finally disappeared as she grinned wobbly at him.

"That's… That's great to hear, Reid," Garcia said, her voice slightly thickened with tears. "Really great."

Reid dipped his head, stretching his smile a little more in spite of the returning awkwardness as Garcia swiped her thumb quickly under her waterline.

"So… are we okay?" Reid asked apprehensively.

Garcia gawked at him.

"Of… Of course we are!" she answered, as if scandalized that Reid would think anything else.

And that alone was enough for heated happiness to swell up in his chest.

Penelope Garcia always did know how to make one feel better.

.

.

Progress, progress! Reid has finally made up with JJ and Garcia! I wanted him to have some happiness after that angst-ridden chapter, because damn it, our Pretty Boy deserves it! I haven't watched the latest episode of season eleven, but Morgan and Reid in the eleventh episode, "Entropy"? Tears and feels, that's all I can say. Mmm mmm.

Hopefully the eighth chapter will come a lot sooner than this one did. I began working on it the instant I finished this one, so at least it's coming along. It should come up soon, and thank you guys so much for staying tuned! Please let me know what you think, as well as some possible song ideas for the trailer!