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Lavender, lemon, eucalyptus - the scents of Penelope’s cleansing essential oils she had used during her visit with Voit lingered in her own nose long after she’d left the hospital. The strong smells were sharp to her nose and mind, but if she was honest with herself, they hadn’t seemed to do much.
Well, maybe it’s working, she’d offered to Voit after his declaration that he felt like he could be a good person. Maybe it was working.. for him, she thought. He was always making progress, always making steps forward. Every time she talked to him, he seemed further from Lee Duval the serial killer, and closer to Elias Voit, the human being.
Still, Voit’s actions had led - however inadvertently - to Tate Andrews’ death, and Penelope knew she shared in that. No amount of eucalyptus was going to erase that weight from her psyche.
At the end of their visit, Voit had awkwardly patted her on the shoulder and tried to tell her it wasn’t her fault. Penelope just shook her head and wished him a good night. She knew it wasn’t her fault fault, but it was still her fault. She spent the whole drive home running the events in her mind over and over and couldn’t come to any other conclusion.
How could she have been so stupid? She should have seen it - she should have seen that cutting off the signals would trigger the charges. She should have seen that she was about to kill an innocent man. She turned it every which way in her mind, but no matter what, she came up as the weak link in the equation. She missed something important, and now somebody was dead.
The astringent smell of the lingering essential oils could do nothing against the fresh wave of guilt that had swallowed her by the time she got home. She felt the wetness pooling in her eyes from the assault of emotions, and sighed at herself. It was going to be a long night, and she doubted she’d get a wink of sleep.
Penelope had shed her heels in the elevator up to her floor, and was walking in nothing more than her stocking-clad feet down her hallway when she was greeted by a sight that startled her so much she nearly slipped and fell.
“Luke!” she said, surprised.
He was sitting on the floor, back against her door, eyes closed. He hadn’t heard her coming, what with her lack of shoes quieting her footsteps. His eyes popped up and he jumped up when he saw her.
“Hey,” he said. He tried crossing his arms, an attempt at nonchalance, but then abandoned that and shoved his hands in his pockets.
“What are you doing here?” Penelope asked softly, trying not to speak too loudly lest he hear the tremor of lurking tears in her voice. He’d already held her while she cried once today, she didn’t really want to burden him with it again. She just had to hold it together enough to get in the door.. then maybe a bubble bath would calm her nerves.
“I texted you,” he said, his voice with a questioning tone. “You didn’t reply. I was.. I was just worried.”
Penelope blinked and pulled out her phone. She’d put it on silent while she was at the hospital with Voit, and forgotten to take it off afterwards. There they were, three texts from Luke, among a whole other array of notifications. Penelope bit her lip, more guilt lapping at the shores of her mind. She hadn’t meant to worry him. Fortunately a quick check showed her none of the other notifications were urgent. She took the phone off silent mode before slipping it back into her purse, wanting to avoid any more missed messages.
“Sorry,” she said. “I’ve just been.. discombobulated.”
Penelope realized they were still standing in the hall and she waved at her door; Luke stepped back to allow her to unlock it. He watched her, hovering closely behind her. He wouldn’t normally be so concerned that Penelope hadn’t replied to his texts, but after what she’d been through earlier in the day, her suddenly being unreachable made warning bells ring. He’d talked himself off the metaphorical ledge of calling up another tech at the FBI and getting a trace on her phone, and instead went to her place. That seemed slightly less overreaction-y. But she wasn’t home and her car wasn’t in its spot, so he decided to just wait her out, to see if she'd come home. He'd given her a mental time limit of an hour, and if she hadn't shown, he planned to rally the troops to find her.
Now, with Penelope whole and in front of him, he was glad he hadn’t gone into full investigative mode right away. He knew she wouldn’t have appreciated the fuss. Even if he had had to physically sit on his own hands to keep from making the call before his self imposed time limit.
His relief at seeing her fine and mere feet away faded quickly back to worry. It seemed that was his main mode of being lately, especially when it came to Penelope. He wondered where she had been, what she was up to, and why she would silence her phone - something she almost never did.
Penelope opened the door and held it for him, wordlessly letting him into her apartment. He didn’t ask to come in, but it didn’t matter, because over the years, they had become so comfortable with each other that they barely had to use formalities like that. How many times had Penelope let herself into Luke's place to look after Roxy while he was gone, or to bring in his mail, or whatever else? They were as close as friends could be in Penelope’s mind, and he had a de facto open invitation to her place. And, frankly, Penelope was glad Luke was there, even if he was only there because she’d accidentally worried him. She realized she wasn’t ready to be alone with her thoughts yet. The silent car ride home alone that left her stewing in her own thoughts was enough to make her happy for the company and distraction.
“So, uh,” Luke started hesitantly as he closed the door behind them. Penelope tossed her heels on the floor and set her bag on the entryway table before turning to face him. “Where were you?”
Luke winced as he said it, knowing how it sounded, and that it wasn’t really his right to ask her where she’d been. But he wanted to make sure she was okay, and his mind was running through a hundred bad possibilities of trouble an upset Penelope Garcia could have gotten herself into.
“I was -” Penelope couldn’t make herself get the words out. She knew everyone thought she was crazy for continuing to spend time with Voit, and even if Luke had assured her he didn't think she was crazy, and even though he never said it aloud, she knew he was still bothered by it. Her unwillingness to answer made it click for him, though, and she didn’t even need to say the words to know.
“You were with Voit,” Luke answered his own question. Penelope watched the muscles in his jaw flex as he clenched it, and she held her breath, waiting for a reproach, but none came. Instead, his voice was soft as he asked a question. “Did it help?”
Penelope felt a lump forming in her throat. Why did Luke have to be so.. so understanding all the time? She loved it and hated it all at once. To be listened to and - and heard by him - was something so new for her. But right now, with the guilt weighing on her, and the image of Tate Andrews dying in the dirt swimming in her mind’s eye, she almost wanted to be yelled at. It would feel deserved, a mental flagellation for all the sins she worried she’d committed.
“For a little bit,” she said thickly. Talking with him had helped. And then she had packed up her stuff and walked out of the hospital, and the warm night air hit her and brought her back to reality.
Luke sighed and stepped closer to her. He could see it in the set of her shoulders and hear it in the tremble of her voice - she was close to crying again. Penelope was going to struggle with this for a long time, and he wished he could just take it all away. Or that he could help her to understand that it really was not her fault - that she had helped the best she could, and no matter the outcome, that was all anyone could ask of her. But that kind of acceptance never came easy to her. That was why she quit the BAU in the first place.
“I promise, one day.. it won’t hurt as much,” Luke offered. He couldn’t think up anything to say that would help her right now, but he wanted to give her some hope, and he knew from experience that at least that was true. That kind of pain never fully went away, but it dulled and grew a patina, one that buried the fresh edges of hurt.
Penelope met his eyes - dark amber made even darker in the dim light of her apartment, the only illumination coming from the kitchen. But there was enough light that she could read his expression, and see his sincerity. She nodded, accepting his words as true, even if it didn’t particularly feel that way at the moment. Luke took another step closer to her, slowly, and Penelope guessed he thought at any moment the tears might come again and they would need to do a repeat of earlier events in her office. Not that she would have minded, really - she felt safe in his embrace, safe to feel her pain, knowing he would keep it from swallowing her whole. Her tether. But she didn't want to keep burdening him.
“I’m okay,” she said, trying to assure him that she wouldn’t have another spectacular breakdown. Trying to let him know that he didn’t need to treat her with kid gloves. That he didn’t need to do.. whatever he was doing. What exactly was he doing?
Luke had ignored her statement and came even closer to her, close enough that she had to angle her head up to look at him. He made a movement towards her, and out of the corner of her vision she saw him reaching up towards.. her hair. He was undoing the clips in her hair. Penelope’s breath hitched as she felt him unclipping one barrette, then another. He took the clips out and set them down on the nearby table. Penelope thought that was the end of it, but Luke returned his attention to her hair, running his fingers lightly through the area that was clipped, loosening the coils there, and fluffing it out.
The feeling of his fingers through her hair was relaxing, and she felt the tension in her shoulders start to lessen. Penelope watched Luke’s face, and his rapt attention focused on her as he fluffed out her hair caused something to shift inside of her. The anxieties and guilt she’d been nursing all day suddenly took a step back as something else took its place - a deep want. A need.
Penelope’s gaze shifted to Luke’s lips. Full, and slightly open as he concentrated on his task of fixing her hair. She licked her own lips unintentionally, wondering not for the first time in her life what it would be like to kiss him. A thought she'd entertained in her fantasies but had never let come to fruition. But he was standing in front of her now, hands in her hair, parting his lips as he leaned ever closer to her, and it was so easy to imagine tiptoeing across the invisible line between friendship and something more.
Luke had started this innocently enough - he’d simply felt drawn by the urge to take care of Penelope - somehow - any way he could. But as he realized their positions - inches apart, with his fingers threaded through her hair, and Penelope staring brazenly at his mouth - he felt the atmosphere shift. He dipped his head a bit to look into her eyes and saw her tears had dried and her pupils were blown wide as she raked her gaze across his face. Luke was surprised at her reaction, but it was like an arc of electricity zapping between them, and it electrified him.
Luke abandoned his ministrations in her hair and moved his hands down, framing her face. He stroked his thumbs lightly over her cheeks, a questioning in his touch. Is this what you want? Is this what you need?
Luke knew what he wanted, which was to tell her so many things. He wanted to tell her to quit the BAU again - to not even give notice, just tell Emily she was done and wouldn’t be back. He wanted to tell her none of this was her fault, again. Luke knew she knew that, and that knowledge had never stopped her guilt before, but he wanted to say it over and over until it struck the magic chord and sunk in.
But most of all Luke wanted to tell her he was sorry - so fucking sorry for ever bringing her back to this job.
He opened his mouth to say any of those things, but he snapped it shut again once he saw the expression in Penelope’s face. Her eyes were boring into his, as if attempting to mentally communicate with him. She was wordlessly begging him for something, something she couldn’t articulate, but she could feel thrumming through her body. A part of her mind heralded one word - want - and she couldn’t have said exactly what it was she wanted, but she knew she wanted it from Luke. Luke, who had been her support - her rock - for years. Who had never let her down before.
Luke tilted his head in a questioning move, raising his eyebrows a little. Penelope nodded at him. Maybe she squeaked; she had registered some sort of high pitched noise that she thought she had made, but she wasn’t really paying that close attention and it didn’t seem to matter. She was lost in Luke’s eyes, the feeling of his warm hands on her cheeks, the puff of his breath as his face inched closer to hers.
Penelope felt her eyes flutter closed, even as much as she didn’t want to break eye contact, but the feeling of anticipation overwhelmed her. Her inner voice was running a mile a minute - oh God, finally, it’s going to happen, he’s going to -
*ding*
*ding*
Twin chimes from their phones, alerts coming through at the same time, cut through the silence of the room. They had both received a text at the same time. That could only mean one thing - it was work related. What was the opposite of saved by the bell?
Luke stifled a groan as Penelope pulled back a little. He moved his hands to her shoulders. She opened her eyes and caught his gaze - and he saw the same frustration there as he felt. Why did it feel like their timing was always just.. off? Luke swallowed, pushing down the irritation, and looked at her lips briefly before stepping back, creating distance.
Penelope felt the inrush of cold air in his absence as he pulled away. She could have cried - the feeling hitting her hard, crawling up the back of the throat, far from the first time that day. But at least it was for a different reason, which was almost a relief. She took a shuddery breath, trying to regain her composure, as Luke checked his phone. Penelope didn’t bother checking her own, waiting instead for Luke to share whatever the news was.
“Fuck!” he exclaimed, staring at his phone.
“What is it?” Penelope asked, feeling a chill go up her spine at Luke’s tone. “What’s wrong?”
“Tara was shot,” he said, disbelief lacing his words.
“Wh - what? How - what happened?” Penelope was overtaken with confusion and worry. The tension between her and Luke from moments ago fizzled into nothingness, gone even quicker than it had developed.
“I don’t know,” Luke said, shaking his head as he stared at the text on his phone, willing more information to magically appear. “Come on, let’s get to the hospital. I’ll drive.”
“Yeah,” Penelope muttered as she found a pair of sneakers to throw on. She felt tears once again burning her eyes as they hurried out of her apartment. How many times were they going to be called to the hospital? How many of her friends and coworkers were going to hurt - or worse, die? Oh God - was Tara going to die?
Penelope hiccuped back a sob as she turned the final key to lock her door.
“Hey, Penelope,” Luke said, getting her attention, and she turned her watery gaze to him.
Luke grabbed her hand in his, squeezing it just this side of too tightly, but Penelope relished the feeling of strength he telegraphed. My rock, she thought again.
“We’ll get through this,” Luke said. “Okay?”
She looked into his eyes, and let her gaze flicker briefly down to his lips once, thinking of their missed opportunity. But she pushed it out of her mind and nodded. He returned the gesture and pulled her gently along by her hand, into the next crisis that awaited them.