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Garcia stood on the porch and rang the doorbell, gift bag hanging precariously off of her wrist. Bright blue and yellow balloons were tethered to the railing, all of them depicting the same message; Happy Birthday!
She didn’t have to wait long for JJ to open the door, casual in a pair of jeans and a pink button down, but with a smile fastened onto her face.
“I’m so glad you could make it,” JJ said earnestly, and Garcia tried not to stare. She looked different since she had left the BAU – happier. “Do you want to come in?”
Garcia hesitated, wanting badly to say yes, and at the same time wishing she had never rang the doorbell in the first place. She could see past JJ into the house full of people; Reid with Henry on his lap, Emily engaged in conversation with someone she’d never met before. And then there was Will.
He was lighting the candle on a sheet cake, a large number one with a wick. A candle for a first birthday.
The scene struck a sudden raw chord of pain in Garcia’s chest, highlighting all of the things she wanted but couldn’t have.
“Ah,” she said, not meeting JJ’s eyes – clear blue eyes that had urged her on late at night after work. “I wish I could, but I’m leading group tonight.”
JJ’s face fell, lips pulled into a soft frown, and Garcia tried not to think about all the times those lips had ghosted over her skin, made her hot and needy and lost.
“That’s too bad. I would’ve liked to catch up; I miss you, Penelope.”
Garcia’s stomach dropped out, even as she could hear everyone singing happy birthday in the background; Will’s voice loudest of them all. The voice JJ had chosen, instead of hers.
“I brought Henry a gift,” Garcia said, ignoring JJ’s words. She had to, or else her heart would break all over again. “Tell him I love him, and wish him a happy birthday for me.”
“I’ll tell him. Thank you,” JJ took the gift bag, and their fingers brushed together gently, making Garcia’s heart flutter. But she knew it would be easier to walk away now, rather than go inside and pretend that everything was okay.
Even as she sat alone in her apartment that night, hours later, wishing she had gone inside; wishing she had said something more.