Finale Drabbles
Title: Finale Drabbles
Rating: PG
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Characters/Pairing: gen and canon pairings, with one R/P
Summary: A series of unconnected drabbles taking place during, after or alternating from the season finale.
Warnings: One drabble contains character death. Sorry.
...
It seems fortunate that she still hadn't quite gotten around to refurnishing her apartment. Maybe that's because she's always known that she wasn't going to stay. The less that has to be shipped overseas the better; anything she needs, she can buy over there.
It is, for all intents and purposes, a new beginning.
Sergio meows from his position atop a pile of boxes. He's clearly confused, but he's amiable, which is more than she'll be able to say after he endures an eight hour flight cooped up in his carrier. Really, she feels a little guilty about dragging him halfway across the world, but her motives are entirely selfish. Things are going to be lonely enough at first, without anyone else.
But hey.
At least she'll have the corner office.
...
They were running back to the station when it exploded in a bright, hot ball of fire.
The shockwave hit Morgan before he even realized what had happened. For the second time in less than six hours, his head was ringing.
Emily.
In front of him, Hotch was staring at the burning building.
Please, God, no.
She hadn't answered their last two calls over the radio, which he'd taken to mean that she was busy trying to defuse the bomb.
Evidently, she had failed.
...
It was past seven when Emily finally got home, kicking the door shut behind her in a huff. She had more Chinese food than was healthy for one person to eat, and a six-pack of Guinness.
There was a very important phone call she had to make.
'Oh, hello darling.'
'I've been stuck in budget meetings all day long, Clyde. Why the hell did you think I'd want this job?'
He laughed. 'Why do you think I wanted to get out of there so much?'
Swearing, she hung up on him, and threw her phone at the sofa.
The situation called for an emergency dose of Kung Pao Chicken.
...
The reception, for lack of a better word, was dying down, when Garcia found Kevin at the long table. Hotch and Beth had said their goodbyes, as had Rossi and Strauss. Jack had to be up early for school tomorrow morning, but she didn't even want to think about what Rossi and Strauss were doing. It was icky.
'Where's Gina?' Garcia asked, her curiosity having got the better of her. He'd been amiable when they danced, to the point where she'd felt that same, happy warmth that had been inside her when they were together.
'We never...we weren't...' Kevin stuttered, apparently having difficulty explaining the situation. 'She's just a friend, Penny. She was helping me out a lot after...'
He trailed off, but she knew what he meant. After she turned him down.
'Anyway,' he shrugged. 'I'm pretty sure she went home with Anderson.'
Garcia bit back a smile. Gina and Anderson had been dancing around each other for the entire time she'd been with the Bureau. It was nice to see that they were as human as everyone else.
The music now was slow and quiet, the dance-floor empty.
'I guess weddings are one event where you have to realize that you really need to think about where you're going in life.' She paused. 'And who you're going there with.'
He gave her a shaky smile, and somehow she knew that it was going to be alright.
...
The song is slow, and Emily finds her hands migrating towards Rossi's shoulders, as they sway gently. It's not a particularly creative dance, but it's a little more intimate than she'd usually share with her male friends.
Tonight is all about intimacy.
It might be the last night for a long time that she spends with them, so she has to make it count.
'When are you leaving?' he asks. Her head is pressed against his shoulder, and she takes a shaky breath.
'That obvious, huh?'
'A little,' he admits. 'But I also overheard your conversation with Morgan.'
She laughs. 'Well if you were listening to the whole conversation, then you'd know I haven't said yes yet.'
'I think you should,' he tells her. 'You'd thrive in a leadership position, and to be honest, your specific skill-set is wasted hunting down serial killers.'
'It's running the office, Rossi. I don't think my specific skill-set would be much use in budget meetings, either.'
'Still,' he says. 'You've got experience in that field, which, quite frankly, is just as important as people management.'
'I guess.' She shrugs, in a way that presses her body right up against his. It feels nice. Warm. 'I've got a few days to decide. If all else fails, I'll weigh out the pros and cons.'
'Let me put it this way,' he says, laughing. 'If you go to London, you won't have to put up with me anymore.'
She smiles, but there's something in the back of her mind that's thinking, Con.
...
'The honeymoon suite of the Ritz-Carlton Georgetown is booked in your name,' Rossi told JJ. 'Don't order too much to room service, or you'll max out my credit card.'
'Rossi, you didn't have to-'
'I didn't,' he interjected. 'Everyone chipped in. I just provided the AmEx Platinum.'
'What about-'
'Reid is taking Henry for the night,' he told her. 'Trust me, JJ. When I plan parties, I plan every detail.'
She gave him a warm smile.
'Thank you.'
'You deserve it,' he said, his own lips curling into a grin. 'Now go. Be with your husband.'
Husband, JJ thought. I like the sound of that.
...
Morgan ran up the stairs of the station. According to Emily, Will had been cuffed to an upstairs railing, with half a dozen transmitters strapped to his chest. Now, the bomb squad were delicately taking apart the explosives.
Emily was fifty feet away, sitting against a wall. Her head was in her hands.
'You alright?' he asked, moving to sit down beside her. 'What happened?'
'Apparently, I defused a bomb,' she told him, in the kind of voice that suggested she was still trying to process that fact.
'Really?' he asked, eyebrows raised in surprise. 'I didn't realize they taught you how to do that kind of thing in Interpol.'
'Well, since we were working with terrorists, I had to take a few courses, but it probably wouldn't have helped. There wasn't enough time left on the clock.'
'How long?'
'One second,' she told him. 'We were a single second away from getting blown to pieces.'
He paused. 'Well, I'm glad you picked the right wire, then.'
Emily laughed. 'Yeah. Me too.'
...
Jack stirs when they walk in the door, and he's so tired that he doesn't protest being put in bed, rather than the fort that's still erected in the living room.
'You know, we could still sleep in there,' Beth suggests. She's grinning wildly, and Hotch doesn't need to be a profiler to know exactly what she has in mind. Somehow, though, he doesn't think that sullying Jack's blanket fort is a very good idea.
He kisses her gently anyway, and takes her to bed; the idea was fairly good in principle. It just needed a slight tweak.