Chapter Text
The BAU bullpen buzzed with its usual hum of activity. Penelope Garcia, their eccentric, glitter-loving technical analyst, was at her desk, her fingers flying over her keyboard. Yet, her usual bubbly demeanor was dimmed. Beside her, a fresh bouquet of roses rested in a vase. It wasn’t the first time this week—or month.
Morgan walked in, his sharp eyes catching the tension etched on her face.
“Hey, Babygirl,” he greeted, leaning casually on her desk. “Another one?”
She nodded, biting her lip. “Same as always. No sender, just a card that says, ‘For my sunshine.’”
Morgan’s brow furrowed. He picked up the card and flipped it over, searching for any hint of identification. “You know you’ve gotta tell Hotch about this, right?”
Penelope sighed, her shoulders slumping. “I don’t want to make a big deal out of it. Maybe it’s just... someone with a misguided crush.”
But Morgan wasn’t convinced. He shot a quick text to Hotch, knowing this wasn’t something to ignore.
Over the next few weeks, the messages intensified. What began as flowers turned into handwritten letters, lengthy emails, and even a small package containing a locket with Garcia’s picture inside. The team had enough to work with, and Hotch put Spencer Reid on the case of deciphering the handwriting and analyzing the emails.
“You’re not just anyone, Garcia,” Hotch said during a team meeting. “This person has crossed a line, and we need to stop them before it escalates.”
Reid spoke up, his voice tinged with concern. “The language in the letters shows signs of obsession. This person believes they’re in a relationship with you. It’s likely they’ll attempt contact in person soon.”
Morgan placed a protective hand on her shoulder. “We’ve got you, Penelope. No one’s getting close.”