#she really said 'not rebecca without her work colleague with whom she is friendly'

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do you ever WEEP!!!!!! (interview link)

[okimargarvez]

ABYSS- the Supreme sacrifice - Chapter 1

Original title: Abisso- il supremo sacrificio.

Prompt: mother’s love, kidnapping, distress, tragedy.

Warnings: mention of Character’ Death and rape, O.C..

Genre: angst, drama, action, romantic, family, friendship.

Characters: Penelope Garcia, Luke Alvez, Derek Morgan, Savannah Hayes, O.C.

Pairing: Garvez, Morcia.

Note: multichapter.

Legend: 😘👓🔦🎈⚰.

Song mentioned: none.

Abyss- Masterlist

GARVEZ STORIES

Note: this is my real first Garvez (but even Morcia) fanfic. The song Slipped away by Avril Lavigne inspired me for the plot and the final. It’s a hard story, I talked about weighty topics, it’s not fluffy at all. If you think it’s better if I don’t post it here, please, tell me.

Chapter 1

The heart of a mother is a deep abyss at the bottom of which you will always find forgiveness. (Honoré de Balzac)

1- The germ

Every fiber of her body vibrates to that tenuous thought, but the woman is expert in pushing it away.

-Someone is very thoughtful tonight.- a voice says behind her, that causes a slight jolt.

-Ha ha, very funny.- she turns to him and smiles. It still seems impossible to think that only a few months before (well, a year now) she couldn’t even look at him in the face, because the calienti Latin traits were replaced by equally fascinating features, but much more painful. Too many similarities, if one was busy to see them. Both were handsome men, for whom all women dizzy and immediately stopped doing what occupied them at the time of the apparition, regardless of the importance of it. Both had something exotic and tasty.

And both (but this she can’t know) are attracted to her, an attraction that must be understood in the absolute sense of the term: an interest that, for someone, can lead to a deeper bond.

Something very similar is passing into the mind of the special agent Luke Alvez as he examines every detail of the woman in front of him. Blonde hair, slightly wavy, glasses that cover those spheres that are a direct mirror of her soul.

Derek is what he can read, printed in indelible characters. Derek Morgan, still present as a shadow that oppresses him, hides him. And he feels exactly like the second wife told by Hitchcock in Rebecca, so crushed by the first that she can’t even afford her own name, nor own personality. It wasn’t the first time he had to replace someone, indeed. Since he was a child he had been used to constant change, to the impossibility of making real friends, knowing full well that it would not last. Yet this had allowed him to have an elastic character, had developed in him an innate ability to forge relationships with people, at first glance, without too many turns of words and this had returned very useful in his work. So he had drawn the best from an unfavorable circumstance, which very often created children, then boys and then adults, unable to forge ties, to the constant search for a fixed point, which at the time when they lost it went into crisis and could become (also) serial killers like those who had to chase.

All this explained perfectly his attitude when, a year ago, he had been easily received by the whole team, consisting of a mix of different members, a super smart young boy, a blonde and a brunette (both not bad) that knows what they’re doing in more senses, a veteran and writer, a man with a severe appearance (it still hurts to think of him, although he has hardly had time to become attached to the big boss) which was then added an old acquaintance, a brunette also  interesting… in short, a beautiful variety that seemed to work as a Swiss mechanism, each had own place and made available their qualities and skills for the success of the mission, everyone seemed aware of the value of each other… yet despite having just lost a gear, they hadn’t shown particular anxiety in welcoming a new member. Everybody but one, the one that had immediately been more apart (although later, soon enough, he would have discovered that it was not a typical attitude of the girl in question): a shapely blonde in all the right places, quite eccentric in the way of dressing and also to furnish her own den. The computer technician Penelope Garcia. When he showed up she had barely looked at him and he, slightly aware of his charm, was disappointed. Even the other blonde, JJ, who wears wedding ring and as he would have learned later was busy, didn’t miss the opportunity to give him a look not really friendly, even if Luke had appeared more like a kind of verification to admission. Penelope had shaken his hand with difficulty and then had run out; during the discussion of the cases she did everything (in a way too obvious) to avoid being near him and when she was sending information while they were outside, never called his number.

If she had seemed a shy girl, he might have thought the opposite of what had been ruminating for months, or rather that the tech had a crush to the new guy. But he was not so stupid and then he had seen her with the others, even if almost practically hidden and the attitude was quite different from what she had with him. She laughed, joked, always smiled, made fun of them by calling them with affectionate nicknames and others that probably only they knew. Even Hotch didn’t seem to be immune to the rite and was called “boss” with militaristic meaning. In addition, avoid him didn’t consist in keeping her eyes down when they crossed mistakenly in the corridor together, indeed, the few times that their eyes met, Penelope was never the one who lowered gaze first, but her expression suggested a kind of hate, what hate couldn’t be because this feeling takes time to bloom like love, rather we could talk about unjustified antipathy.

Or at least it remained until he had decided to ask the remaining members of the profiler section of the BAU. Unexpectedly, it was the last arrival, Emily, to put an end to his “sufferings”, explaining that she wasn’t angry with him, that he could also be the pope, the president of the United States or even David Bowie (he would have understood those things only later), in any case Penelope hated his role or rather the fact that he had taken that role, that place, or that which was until recently of Derek Morgan. From here she had begun to tell a series of memories, interspersed with anecdotes of others, who in the meantime had added since there were no cases to examine. Fortunately, Agent Garcia was home sick. From the various fragments, Luke had painstakingly made a global picture and finally understood everything. Agent Morgan had been “the hero” par excellence, especially for Penelope. He had climbed into an ambulance and risked blow up to save the lives of many people, including his colleagues; he was able to overcome a personal trauma not unimportant (but what kind they hadn’t absolutely wanted to tell him) and derive the strength to continue his work. But above all, he had always worried about his “baby girl” (epithet that first made him turn up his nose), he had tried to protect from the evils that they fought together. At this point it had seemed obvious to him asking how long they had been together and everyone had looked at him with shocked faces, before bursting out laughing. -Never.- JJ had finally answered, and then she had added more quietly -at least not officially.- he had thus come to know the epilogue of the idyll: Morgan had found a woman who had put an end to his being a playboy, a wife and he had settled down, creating a new life, then his wife had been kidnapped and he had decided that his family would no more be been put at risk by his job. End.

From that moment it was him who had stopped try to have a friendly relationship with Penelope, because now that he knew, he had absolutely no idea how to exploit the information in his possession. In other words, the thought that she had avoided him through no fault of his own, but because she was obsessed with the idea of ​​someone who was no longer, it was something too difficult to overcome. The Fate, however, was put in the middle and so, to make it short, they had found themselves in a situation where there was no way to avoid each other and in the end, after spending an hour exchanging secret and challenging looks, Luke had exploded and told her that he had never intended to replace her marvelous Derek Morgan, so he had headed for the exit, contravening Prentiss’s orders, which became after the death of Hotch the new chief of the unit, since Rossi had refused and JJ or Spencer didn’t seem suitable. Penelope had taken a little too many seconds to get out of the catalepsy she had fallen into, but then, just in time, she had managed to come back to life to stop him. And she had simply apologized for behaving so unjustly with him. She hadn’t cried, nor begged him. In a calm voice, she limited himself to explaining the situation to him (unaware that he already knew the plot) and then she had kept silent, probably waiting for him to let off steam, telling her who knows what. Instead, Luke gave her a quiet smile and gently touched her shoulder in a friendly gesture, and then said, -Let’s do what we came here to do.-

From that time there were no more real problems between them. Their relationship had grown to the point of turning in mutual trust, even though she always seemed distant when they met out of work context, as if she were afraid of going too far … without either of them really knowing where they wanted to go. Every now and then, Luke had the impression that Penelope didn’t see him but his predecessor because it was painting on her face a strange expression of joyous melancholy, where the sad component eventually prevailed. And he couldn’t help but wait for her to return to the real world.

As in this exact moment.

-Penelope… are you there ?- he doesn’t call her with any particular appellation, even if sometimes he would like to. He’s afraid of what might happen, although they’ve known each other for over a year, and she once told him she’d talked to Derek, about his life in Chicago, his baby, apparently as if she had overcome her “problem”. But the reality is very different, and Luke knows it.

-Sorry…. I was thinking of something that I dreamed the other night…- seeing a strange nuance in the expression of him, she hastens to specify -not of that kind, maniac!- and she lets away a laugh that only some time ago she would never have had the courage to do, as if Derek had taken away from her the right to be happy without him. -It’s a fairly recurring dream, but nothing classic, like falling to infinity… it’s about- and as soon as Luke catches her expression he understands that she’s about to tell him something important, so he becomes more careful and involuntarily even closer. -A sudden awakening, I’m anguished, I feel that there is something wrong, but without knowing what it’s, then a sudden idea illuminates me. Where are my parents? Inside of me I know the answer and yet pass a few but still very long minutes before I can remember that it’s useless to get excited and wait for them, because they are… dead, when I was eighteen… I told you that already, or not?- he, who was absorbed and completely absorbed by her evocative ability, emerges from the water and shakes his head. -Ah…- moment of embarrassment. -There often happens to me to have… this nightmare, the worst thing are those seconds when I haven’t yet realized the truth, because combined with the anxiety of expectation, there is indissolubly a damn and useless hope… sorry, sorry if I have harassed you with this story… you’ll be tired, you just came back from an intense case … – he is about to reply that she has been engaged in it, but then he lets it go.

-Don’t apologize. I’m interested.- he would say I’m interested in you, but for now he only allowed himself to look at her closely, but not too much. Foreshortening.

The acute shrill breaks the apparent quiet of the evening.

-Love, could you go?- what at first glance would seem a classic and quiet phrase, conceals hidden subtests, which only a trained ear can grasp. The man snorts and, knowing he isn’t seen, unleashes his frustration on the cards he was previously filling out, throwing them into the air, while aware that he’ll have to fix everything on his return. But the momentary euphoria in doing a wrong act repays the further future effort. When he reaches the object of the call, it’s visible only a warm smile on his face.

-Hello, little one, Daddy’s love, how are you?- that little creature so defenseless is also his merit, but is still hard to convincing himself. Another cry, this time female, destroys the atmosphere of mild tranquility that had been created. He snorts again, then tries to pretend nothing is happened, but it seems that tonight nothing wants to give him respite.

-Derek! It’s your phone, could you come and pick up the phone?- he goes quickly towards the voice, throwing a last glance at the bundle wrapped in blankets. He doesn’t even imagine that a ghost of the past (yet still so present, although he has tried in vain to deny it) is going to make it shake forcefully. He takes the device from his wife’s hands and responds in his classic way.

-Morgan.- there is a moment of silence before he hears someone speak from the other end of the line.

-Derek, I… I hope not to bother you…- he is about to interrupt her. Emily. It’s not like her call so late, without a reason… And he immediately realizes everything. Even before the woman can pronounce what he fears. -I… I would not ask you if it wasn’t really necessary. You should… be able to come here… to Quantico.-

-Why?- he finally manages to ask.

-Garcia… Penelope was kidnapped.-

Here, exactly what I feared. How did I know it was about her? It’s… it’s been months since I can’t think about how strange it’s not to see her every morning, don’t joke with her on the phone. It’s more than a year that someone doesn’t call me chocolate thunder. I would have needed her so much, few months ago, since… it’s too hard to think about it. She would have helped me, she would have been able to say the right words… He doesn’t need Prentiss to talk to remember everything suddenly. Penelope has been kidnapped. My baby girl is in danger, right now she could be… I can’t even say it in my head. I have to… I have to pack, pack a bag, I have to tell Savannah… Savannah. -I’ll get there as fast as I can.- and put down the phone. The brunette woman stops doing what she was doing and turns to him.

-Derek, where you are going?-

-Savannah, Emily called me… Garcia has been kidnapped and they need me to go to Quantico.- he tries to use a tone as quiet as possible, while the wheels of his brain go to a thousand per hour, thinking about  where it’s going to go.

-But you’re no longer part of the team, you’re not longer a federal. What do you have to do? - already feels the frustration make its way in the body of the woman he should most want.

-I still have some knowledge, I know some things that can help…- he sees anger rise to her eyes and finally explode.

-You don’t really know anything! You are no longer a profiler. Morgan, listen to me. If you go there I…- he has no more time to waste and certainly has no patience to gently convince his half of the need for his intervention. Or perhaps he simply doesn’t have the courage to say what he really feels, and he knows that she is aware, but he is convinced that until it’s pronounced aloud, that reality can’t be materialized.

-Do not say it.- he comes out more like a threat than the supplication he originally intended to express. -Savannah, I have to go.- a significant pause -I love you.- he lays a very quick kiss on her cheek. He feels a pain in his chest as he looks at her, but it’s not because he told a lie. Love is much more complicated than what one would like to believe. Much more stratified and complex.

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