Disclaimer: I do not own the team. Title and quotes from Tennyson's In Memoriam.

Summary: Mourning is never linear. Gideon's death, viewed through an ongoing series of drabbles.

Our Father's Dust

1

"For by the heart the children sit/ Cold in that atmosphere of death,/

And scarce endure to draw the breath,/ or like to noiseless phantom's flit;"

*

They're discussing where to go for drinks when JJ enters the room, face pale. "Get Hotch and Garcia in here," she says quietly; Rossi and Morgan disappear briefly and return with the final members of the team. Six sets on eyes turn on the trembling blonde and wait for her words. This wasn't a case. No case could faze her like this anymore.

"I just got off the phone with Gideon's son," JJ announces. The look on her face answers their questions before they can ask them. "Gideon passed away last night."

No one says anything. No one tries to.