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The soft spring breeze slipped through the tiny crack in the window, rustling the white and yellow curtains of her apartment. The sun was slowly disappearing into the orange sky as the moon awoke from its brief slumber.
Impatient, Derek Morgan bounced his left leg and stared at the bathroom door, where Penelope had been getting ready for over an hour. He raised his right hand and checked the time — 7 p.m. — and of course, they were already late for dinner with the team.
He ran his hands over his head, trying to push away the insistent thoughts — he wanted to pull Penelope out of the bathroom and get going. He took a deep breath and gazed out at the orange sky.
He had offered to drive her to the restaurant a few weeks ago since her car had broken down earlier that month, and this way he'd have company on the ride. She'd accepted immediately.
He stood from the chair and walked toward the bathroom door. The sweet scent of her perfume filled his nostrils and softened his impatience. He knocked three times on the oak door and called:
"Garcia, baby girl, are you ready yet?" he asked, curious, letting his hand slide down the locked door.
No response came, only the unmistakable sound of the lock clicking open.
"We're late. I don't want to hear Reid's snarky comments," he added, rolling his eyes at the thought of the genius teasing them.
The bathroom door opened, and the blonde woman stepped toward him in her long blue dress. The flowing fabric danced with the breeze, and Derek stood mesmerized.
Garcia's hair fell over her shoulders, and her oversized black glasses highlighted the golden shadow on her eyelids.
Penelope smiled and looked at Derek, searching for the impatience she'd heard in his voice.
"Hot Stuff, this woman here needs time to look fabulous," she said with a loud laugh.
He looked away from her sassiness and smiled, still surprised by her response.
The sound of her heels echoed through the house as she walked — the onomatopoeia of confidence, he would say.
Morgan licked his lips and curved a mischievous grin only known to his closest friends — a silent invitation to their usual teasing.
"Oh princess, you really know how to push my buttons," he said in a slow, teasing voice, watching her back.
Penelope spun on her heels and, with an amused look, watched him. The glass cup in her hand swayed as she raised her eyebrows.
"Then tell me, baby girl, how do I look?" Derek whispered, trying to stifle the laugh building in his throat.
Penelope laughed — a contagious laugh that warmed the room, echoing through the walls and transforming the small apartment into a memory.
"Oh!" she gasped between chuckles, pretending to be stunned by "Mr. Muscles'" question.
"So handsome, Derek," she declared loudly, her smile nearly leaping off her face.
The blonde woman walked dramatically toward the tall man, letting her shoes loudly hit the wooden floor. Her performance made him laugh so hard that the neighbors might've heard.
"How do I look?" she asked again, eyes shining as the words left her lips — divine, he wanted to say.
Somehow, his playful expression shifted into pride.
"Perfect," he admitted, smiling more than he planned.
Her laugh still echoed in his ears, sweet and infectious, but gradually faded, as if carried away by the spring breeze of that evening.
The sound became distant, muffled.
The warmth of the room, the light breeze, the perfume — all began to dissolve.
Penelope's home slowly vanished, like mist in the sun.
And then the ground shook.
A jolt cut through the air, followed by the roar of engines and a sharp metallic snap. Derek woke with a start, breath caught in his throat, body still clinging to the memory.
"Derek," a voice called urgently, almost like a distant warning.
He felt the velvety seat beneath him, and bitterly, his brain reconnected to reality.
He was on the jet.
In the present.
"Derek!" the voice called again, louder now, tinged with concern. "Wake up!"
"Yeah?" he responded groggily, startled by the sudden impact, squinting against the light that hurt his eyes.
"Just turbulence. We're landing," Aaron explained, seeing his friend's confusion. "You were having a nightmare"
He blinked slowly, stretching from the uncomfortable nap that had stirred him.
"Okay," he murmured, still half-asleep, looking around for any trace of that memory.
The jet landed smoothly on the dusty runway of the Quantico military base. It was still early — the sky began to tint a lighter blue, announcing the start of a new day.
Outside, the morning wind blew cold and steady, sweeping away engine smoke and the sleepy silence of first steps.
One by one, the agents descended the metal stairs. No comments, only exchanged tired and knowing glances. The mission was over, but the scars of horror still clung to their faces.
The FBI van waited on the tarmac. The ride to the Behavioral Analysis Unit headquarters was brief but long enough for silence to feel familiar.
As they passed through the glass doors of the building, routine embraced them.
Derek walked without thinking, his feet knowing the path. He had memorized every frame, plaque, and crack in those hallways — the white light reflected off the tips of his shoes, and he could swear he had lived this exact moment before.
Despite the exhaustion from the case, he had suggested the team go to the park together before heading home. They agreed, maybe out of his insistence or to drown out the bloody memories of crime scenes.
Normally, he wouldn't suggest a park. He preferred bars and clubs where chaos was welcome. But today was different — special for the team, and especially for Penelope, who, though she loved her noisy, dark room, also loved the sun on her face and the peace that park offered.
They canceled on her all the time due to the usual "unexpected" case calls, and all of them — including her — had to report straight to duty: hunting killers.
Those plans were always just excuses, her way of ensuring her friends stayed together and safe from the dangers of their job. It was time to repay her.
At the door of her office, Derek knocked twice and entered, masking his sleepy face with a smile.
"Hey love, ready?" he called, watching her golden hair bounce at the sound of his voice.
Garcia smiled, turning off her monitors and curving her lips into a playful grin.
"Oh sugar, you know I'm always ready for you," she said, nibbling her pink pen and raising an eyebrow.
"Never doubted it," he replied, watching her put her things in her lilac bag. "We're waiting in the parking lot," he said, but before he could finish, Penelope jumped in.
"I'm so excited. It's been ages since we got together like this," she said warmly, her voice filled with anticipation to be with friends.
"We promised we would, and I keep my promises," he said, looking around.
The messy notes on the desk contrasted with the little toys and perfectly arranged unicorns, and the thin layer of dust over the monitors — gray blending with her colorful office.
"Don't be long!" he said before closing her door, his smile fading slowly.
He reached the building's exit and pushed the door open. July's wind greeted him with a hot, dry gust. For a moment, he paused, eyes shut, as if waiting to hear a laugh in the background — that laugh.
Always late, he thought, trying to hide the chill in his stomach.
The parking lot felt quieter than usual. The team’s cars stood side by side as always. JJ leaned against the black SUV, arms crossed, expression too calm to be casual. When she saw him, she raised a single eyebrow.
"You went by there?" she asked, no names, no need. Her voice was light, but something in it weighed more than the humid air.
Derek nodded, a shadow of a smile on his lips.
"Yeah. She’s coming."
JJ didn’t say anything. She just glanced over his shoulder, expecting someone behind him. No one came.
Still, she turned back to the others and waited in silence.
No one commented. They just got into their cars, one by one, as they always did after a shift. And without a doubt, Derek could say July was a strange month.
He was the last to start the engine, just to be sure Penelope would have a car to follow on the road — she always got lost on these outings. The ignition only turned when he heard the sound of heels hitting uneven concrete.
The radio stayed off. No music, no voices to fill the ride. Just the sound of thoughts and tires on the asphalt, as he casually checked the rearview mirror, searching for her car behind.
That day felt wrong, but somehow so right, like a lost puzzle piece was about to be found, and his heart raced for that reason — to find the one who was lost.
The road to the park was silent for him. Maybe not for the others. Maybe there were quiet conversations and stifled laughs in the cars ahead — as if something in the air called for reverence. The city still seemed asleep, and the empty streets made the trip feel too short.
When he took this job, something inside him broke: his view of the world.
Normal people don’t worry about serial killers or what words to say to victims’ families. But he did.
But that’s who he is. Saving people — or that’s what he was supposed to do.
When the cars parked in the small dirt clearing surrounded by tall, ancient trees, the sun had barely risen. A golden streak painted the sky, casting a soft glow on the treetops.
The park's iron gate stood ajar, creaking slightly with the breeze — as if it knew they would come.
Familiar faces walked together along the uneven stone path, footsteps muffled by dry leaves. No one led, no one asked. Everyone seemed to know exactly where to go.
"It’s so beautiful here," Emily said, listening to the birds chirping from a nearby tree.
Derek didn’t respond — didn’t want to respond — didn’t want to make it real. He observed the moss-covered stones and felt a chill down his neck. Those mossy stones looked like tombs of memories — green, alive, but unchanging.
He was really there.
The breeze that once played with the folds of her dress now touched his face with the same gentleness — only this time, it filled his eyes with tears. And for a moment, he wished to get lost in that wind, just to find her again.
She looked away, and kicked a wilted bouquet of daisies, just like his heart.
"Let’s go," he murmured, following the group’s steps.
JJ adjusted the scarf around her neck like she always did when Penelope mocked her imaginary cold. Her eyes sparkled for a second, expecting the joke... but it never came.
Emily placed a hand on her shoulder, pulling her closer, turning her gaze away to hide the silent tear running down her cheek.
The path ended in a quiet clearing, surrounded by wrinkled-bark trees and cool shade. The group stopped.
Derek felt a tightness in his chest but couldn’t tell if it was from lack of sleep or the heavy presence the place held. He held his breath, as if even the air demanded respect.
Reid opened his backpack and pulled out a small white envelope. He placed it at the base of a tree and stepped back, saying nothing. JJ knelt and replaced old daisies with fresh ones. No one asked where she got them.
Emily took a small keychain from her jacket — a faded glittery blue unicorn — and hung it discreetly on the lowest branch of a nearby tree.
Rossi leaned against a wooden bench and opened a cheap bottle of wine, the kind she liked, and placed two glasses on the cold stone beside him.
No one toasted. No one needed to.
Hotch took a pink pen from his pocket and sat beside Rossi — the same pen she used to sign documents — guarding it like a talisman.
Derek looked around, still half-expecting her to appear from between the trees, laughing, hands raised, saying she got lost.
And it was only then, when his steps faltered, that he saw it: the low, rose-colored stone cutting through the vibrant landscape like a quiet wound.
Her name engraved boldly.
A fresh sunflower beside it.
And beneath the name:
"God given solace"
The silence now felt different. Fuller, heavier, and without his strong-man mask, he wanted her back — his best friend — he wished it were him in that coffin.
"Happy birthday, baby girl," he sobbed, gazing at the pink granite with love.
Derek knelt and ran his fingers over her name slowly, as if trying to remember the texture of her voice.
He felt hands on his shoulder and pressed his lips shut to hold in the violent sobs threatening to escape. Without even looking, he knew — they were all behind him. All together, with a longing too big to bear.
"How do I look, Penelope?" he whispered, voice tight with grief.
The wind blew with a faint scent of lilac and lavender.
In his mind, the answer came as clear as that night:
"So beautiful, Derek."
He smiled, eyes wet.
"How do I look?" her voice echoed in his ears, as if she were right there.
And as if the entire world stopped for a second, Derek let his tears and sobs flow through him — and maybe he wasn’t the only one. The sorrowful chorus of sobs joined his.
"Perfect."