#wish I could perhaps summon this flood of words on command and not only suffer it randomly as an ambush :) but no such luck

[vaguely-concerned]

to be distressingly earnest for a moment, I cannot applaud sylvia feketekuty enough for how incredibly well she balances comedy and actual emotional impact in emmrich's storyline. it's such a fine line to walk as a writer, and she does it perfectly to my mind. johanna hezenkoss is a wonderfully cartoonish heightened comedy character whose literal stated goal is world domination by means of necromancy and also this giant skeleton mecha monster I built. her main redeeming quality is that she's SO entertaining and perfectly unrepentantly herself at every turn and never ever does she grow anything we might readily recognize as a conscience; she may be a monster but in such a marvellous way you simply cannot begrudge her for it. we are going full tilt into the yzma zone here and never looking back. and yet! emmrich's reactions to her, and the lingering emotional fallout of their friendship ending clinging to everything, are very real and grounded and genuine, and her functionality in the narrative rock solid. it's still funny the whole way through, but also weirdly poignant.

she is a blunt archetype, but her presence causes nuance in other places. it tests emmrich's inherent kindness to show some of the flaws running through it. it shows quirks in his character you couldn't get at otherwise, exposes what the lines of temptation can get their hooks in him even in all his genuine basic well-meaningness way before the lich storyline gets fully unveiled -- that there is something in him that was drawn to her ambition and unceasing intellectual exploration of the world, even when it edged up on ruthless; that it was only when the line was openly crossed he put his foot down for good. it exposes the darker side of nevarra's political life, especially the mortalitasi -- that it would only take a handful of them forsaking their oaths and morals and deciding that ruling from behind the throne isn't enough. in the words of emmrich, how easily it would make them a new tevinter, except with a skeleton army so arguably much more metal. the slope is slippery. watch where you put your feet, watcher.

and johanna's cheerful and unrepentant spider verse doc ock supervillain antics are emblematic of the way that aside from anything else, this storyline is also -- and I must return to it once more, one cannot emphasize this enough -- so so SO entertaining about it along the way. it sets the tone in that it's campy and over the top and hilarious... a levity you really do need to bring to emmrich's arc, revolving as it does around *checks notes scribbled on hand* ah. the desperate crippling all-consuming terror of death. like um. yes. you need some liberal spoonfuls of comedic relief to make that particular theme palatable enough to get through and process, and providing that feels like both a very kind, a very intelligent, and very wise thing to do as a writer. and also ties in so perfectly with the whole thematic structure and conclusion -- the message that perhaps you will always be afraid of this thing. maybe that fear of cessation, of irretrievable loss, will be with you forever. but there is kindness and connection and fascinating things to discover in this world to make it bearable. it's all very elegantly done and I admire it deeply on a craft level as much as I appreciate getting to engage with it as a player. a masterful balancing act of tone. thank you for coming to my ted talk and goodbye

[hydrangeahug]

[ Coffee and Wine ]

Simeon x Lucifer | Chapter 4 out of ? | Angst with a happy ending

Read on Ao3

Chapter 4. Chaos, destruction and tea

The way back was relatively quiet, but that was to be expected considering that it was currently around 5AM. Only a few demons were up at this time, most of which went to their job or back home from a long day of work. Lucifer would have enjoyed this quiet morning walk if it wasn't for the fact that he hadn't slept the night before and that the silence gave him too much time to think about the events of the day once more.

How would he explain to his brothers that Simeon not only fell, but will also be living with them soon? Lucifer had no doubt that some of them would be happy, while others might not have a good reaction towards such a huge change in their life. But even then, he had made up his mind. Simeon will be living with them, if they want him to or not is irrelevant.

Lucifer passed by the Colosseum on his way back and it looked like some demons had started investigating the area on either Diavolo's or Barbatos' command. It was highly unlikely to find something relating to Simeon's fall but it was better than missing some key elements that might help them later on, or that could help Simeon remember what happened.

It wasn't long until Lucifer arrived at the house. It was… weirdly quiet from the outside. You wouldn't even be able to guess just how much chaos happens inside every single day if you just walked by. Part of Lucifer wanted to go back and ask if the castle perhaps had a room for him, he was tired, had a headache and needed sleep. And he knew all too well that he wasn't going to get any sleep for a few more hours with the brothers nearby.

And a small part of him wanted to stay with Simeon for just a short while longer.

Lucifer put his hand on the doorknob, ready to open the door. And as if on command, there was a loud scream heard from the inside. Based on the high pitched ringing in Lucifer's ears, it was most likely Asmodeus. Of course he couldn't just get back home without anything happening, how could he even believe that it would be any different.

Oh how he wished to be back at the castle right now, but there was no use in standing there hoping things would get better on their own, they never did with the brothers, after all. So he took the small amount of willpower he still had left and went inside, but nothing that he was mentally prepared for could have prepared him for the flood that came out of their house the moment he opened the door.

So <em>that's</em> why Asmodeus had screamed.

The water had now mostly gone outside while Lucifer stood there, and if Lucifer wasn't drenched, tired and ready to murder the next demon in his sight, then maybe he would even joke about the plants outside finally getting some water. But right now he wanted to know who was at fault for the entire House of Lamentation being turned into a bathtub. So he finally made his way towards the entrance while trying his best not to slip on the stairs that could now be used as a slide.

"Lucifer! Look at what they've done to the house! My makeup and clothes are completely ruined..." Asmodeus was the first to 'greet' Lucifer back home. He was standing inside next to the door, most likely in an attempt to escape once things got bad, but he seemingly didn't expect things to end up this bad either.

"Who do you mean by <em>they</em>?" Lucifer took a few steps inside, hoping to see whoever was at fault for this still in the area. But it seemed like they took the opportunity when Lucifer was still in shock to run.

"Mammon and Levi! Levi was screaming at Mammon to give him his money back when I went out of my room, then Mammon ran downstairs in an attempt to get away but Levi catched up to him! And then at some point Levi summoned Lotan…" 

Of course it was Mammon! Who else would dare to cause such destruction at such an hour? "Did you see where they went?" Oh how Lucifer hoped that he had gotten far enough away so he couldn't catch up, unless he wanted to find out just how done Lucifer was with the day. But knowing these two, they were probably still fighting somewhere in the house.

"I think I saw Levi running upstairs, maybe he was running after Mammon again…? Maybe Mammon ran to his room?" That was to be expected. Mammon usually barricaded himself into his room when Leviathan wanted his money back. But this time it seems like Leviathan somehow got Mammon out of his room at first so he tried running outside instead. Which, as Lucifer could both see and feel, ended up in utter chaos and destruction.

Without saying anything else, Lucifer made his way towards the stairs. At first he couldn't hear anything that could indicate Mammon or Leviathan on the upper floor, but then he heard it. There was one voice coming from the direction of Mammon's room. Leviathan's, Lucifer assumed.

"MAMMON GET OUT OF YOUR ROOM!" with the sound of someone banging against a door with almost enough strength to punch the door in.

"Leviathan, do you mind explaining to me why the lower floor has been turned into a swimming pool?" Leviathan slowly turned around towards the voice until he realized that it was, indeed, Lucifer's, and that he didn't just imagine that.

"I'm… sorry… I truly didn't mean too! I was just so mad at Mammon because he-"

Lucifer made his way towards Mammon's door and interrupted Leviathan's speech to get Mammon out of his room, after all, it wasn't fair to only scream at Leviathan, right? "Mammon, if you do not come out of this room in the next second then giving anyone their money back will be the least of your problems."

Mammon opened the door right after Lucifer had finished his sentence and immediately started talking in an attempt at getting away, Lucifer wondered how he still hadn't noticed that no matter what he would say, none of his words could get him out of trouble, no matter how often he tried. "He was the one to summon Lotan! Not me! I don't see why you'd need me for this! And I have a modeling job in a few minutes-"

"Oh? At 5:30AM? That's quite early for you, don't you think? I don't remember you ever taking a job so early in the morning. But even if so, I'm sure they'll understand if I give them a call to let them know that you will be a <em>bit</em> late. Actually, how about you give me their number right now?" Lucifer knew that it was a lie, Mammon wasn't a morning person and it was surprising that he was awake at this hour at all.

"Nononono it's alright! I'm sure they'll understand if I'm a bit late!!"

"Mammon, your lies are embarrassing…" Leviathan said, who was seemingly not all too happy about seeing the man who had taken his money once again, or perhaps he still hadn't returned the money he last 'borrowed'.

"Oi! What do ya mean by lies??"

Lucifer caught into his hand to catch the two bickering demons' attention. "Now that we have that settled, how about we talk about the mess in the entire first floor? Mammon…?"

"Why are ya lookin' at me like that! It wasn't me!" Mammon put his hand up to point at Leviathan and continued, " It was this weirdo! He got all mad at me for something we already discussed and chased me around the house until he suddenly summoned Lotan!"

"DISCUSSED?! YOU TOLD ME YOU'D GIVE ME MY MONEY BACK YESTERDAY!"

"AND I TOLD YOU I DIDN'T HAVE ANY RIGHT NOW! WE TALKED ABOUT THIS!"

"YOU-"

"Are you two done now? I was going to only hang you two from the chandelier for half a day if you cleaned the mess you made but it seems like you'd rather have a whole day all to yourself."

"NONONO I'LL CLEAN I'LL CLEAN!"

"I'LL CLEAN EVEN BETTER THAN MAMMON!"

And they were gone before Lucifer could say another word. Oh well, Lucifer could worry about how well they actually cleaned once he woke up.

___

[ The House of Lamentation ]

Lucifer: if I find any of you just <em>looking</em> at my room anywhere before 12 then they will spend the next few days hanging from the chandelier until Simeon arrives here.

Satan: Well someone sure sounds like they didn't catch enough sleep tonight…

Beelzebub: Is Simeon visiting us?

Belphegor: Now that you mention it, Satan, I didn't see Lucifer anywhere in the last few hours.

Asmodeus: He came home just a short while ago! I wonder where he was, maybe on a date? ♡

Belphegor: Probably on a date with Diavolo, if anything.

Belphegor: But what does Simeon want from us? Hopefully not another exchange program…

___

Simeon couldn't sleep. No matter how hard he tried. Each time he closed his eyes they immediately opened up again, fearing the images he might see in his sleep, the nightmares he most definitely would have. The only reason he didn't have them earlier was because he passed out from the pain and blood loss. And while he didn't wish to feel the pain from then again, he did wish that he could have slept long enough for him to actually feel energized. It was now 6AM, Simeon noted after looking at the small alarm clock on the bedside table next to him for what felt like the 50th time.

But the moments that his mind couldn't rest also felt like torture. He repeatedly thought about the incident of the day, the pain, the fear. And if his mind wasn't busy with the past then it thought about the future, which part of him also feared.

Simeon wasn't one to be too afraid of uncertainty, or what people thought of him. But knowing that he would soon live with the people who he once saw as family, until he left them to their own fate, was frightening.

They didn't seem to hold a grudge against him, or at least they didn't when he was an exchange student. But back then he also didn't directly live with them. Perhaps they actually all hated him?

And then his mind once again found another way to make him suffer. Luke. What was with Luke? Who would take care of him now that Simeon was gone? And how would they tell him that Simeon was now no longer welcome in the Celestial Realm? And not only that, but that the person who had teached him how to be a proper angel was now no longer an angel himself? He had to ask Diavolo if he could find a way to contact Luke. He needed to talk to him.

There was a gentle knock on the door, taking Simeon out of thoughts. Simeon didn't expect anyone to come by so early - or should he say late? - but he wouldn't mind some company, especially not with the way his mind was wandering now, so he let the person in.

"I apologise for the intrusion, I'm just here to bring some clothes you can wear for the next few days." It was Barbatos. He had a few neatly folded clothes in his hands and made his way towards the closet.

"It's alright, I wasn't sleeping anyway. Thank you."

While putting the clothes into the closet Barbatos spoke up again. "Is there anything troubling you? I could make you some tea, I'm sure I have something that could help you sleep."

There was, a lot. But Simeon didn't want to dump the mess that was his mind onto someone else, even if he knew that Barbatos was trustworthy. "I think that everything that happened in the last few hours was just...a lot." And he didn't lie with that. He did feel overwhelmed by the events of the last day, he just left out a few other things.

"Of course, what happened wasn't something you could just get used to in such a short while. I still remember how the brothers were when they had to get used to living here." Barbatos turned around and gently smiled at Simeon, seemingly in an attempt to make him feel better and more at ease. "If you'd like then I could tell you some stories about that time that I know off while we relax with some tea?"

"That sounds great. Thank you Barbatos."

[brywrites]

The Political Abyss

[1st | 2nd ]

Author’s Note: A number of people have messaged/commented about the political AU! You can read it here on FFN, but if that’s not your jam, I figured I may as well post it here. Be warned it is a WIP and with my schedule, I can’t make any promises about when it’ll be updated, but I’ll give you what I’ve got so far!

Number One Observatory Circle, Washington DC May 3rd, 3:01 AM

Aaron Hotchner was not unfamiliar with phone calls at odd hours of the night. It's just that he usually had an inkling that they would be coming. This one was wholly unexpected.

"Mr. Vice President, I'm sorry to wake you." It was the voice of Grant Anderson, one of the heads of secret-service. "But there's something you need to see, and it's urgent. I'll be outside the house to escort you to the Situation Room in five minutes." This wasn't a suggestion or a request, but a non-negotiable order. He had five minutes to throw on some appropriate clothing and gather his things, bracing himself all the while for whatever might be waiting for him.

Gideon preferred to use the Situation Room sparingly, even in the state of paranoia he suffered after the bombing in Boston. It took a truly clandestine crisis to receive such a summons. The last time he remembered being called there was for a briefing after Frank Brietkopf had resurfaced in the DC area. Hotch shuddered at the thought.

That was a night he never wanted to relive.

In the room, he found the Cabinet all waiting, looking expectantly at him, evidently the last to arrive. Jennifer Jareau was at the head of the room, managing the others as any good Chief of Staff knows how to do. Correction – perhaps he wasn't the last to arrive. The President's chair was open. And yet, the doors were being closed. What was happening?

JJ cleared her throat, shifting uncomfortably. "I'm afraid we have a crisis. Late last night, a letter was discovered in the Library. A letter from President Gideon stating that he felt he could no longer perform his duties as President of the United States, and has henceforth resigned." Gasps of disbelief and anxious chatter flooded the room, which JJ quickly shut down, commanding attention once more. "Upon examining the Oval Office, we found two additional letters, formal resignations to be delivered to both the Speaker of the House and the president pro tempore, as called for by official procedure. Gideon however, has vanished."

The cacophony of sound rose again, this time louder and more panicked. Hotch sat there in the midst of it all, trying to process exactly what this meant. "Who found this letter?" he asked.

"That would Secretary Reid," answered JJ. The young, awkward Secretary meekly raised his hand.

"And how did you find it?"

Reid swallowed hard, the picture of uncertainty. Despite his youth, the man was brilliant, Hotch knew that. He'd been a mentor to the Secretary, tried to impart what wisdom he could; but now was not the time for niceties. It was a matter of national safety.

"I was looking for the President. He hadn't been around all day, and we were going to meet and review suggested policies over a game of chess, but he never showed up. I thought he might be in the library, and when I went there… well, I found it. It had my name on it," he added, his voice a little quieter. "It said he knew I would be the one to find it."

For a brief second, Hotch felt something akin to jealousy, that the youngest member of the administration should be the one Gideon chose to address; but then he reminded himself it made the most sense. Despite having worked with Gideon for years, he shared a special with Reid. He was father and mentor and friend at once, and while Hotch had long since learned to see the flaws in the President's ways, Reid practically worshipped the man. Besides, Hotch had a wife and a son to go home to at the end of the day, a life of his own. Reid had no friends outside of work and no family of his own.

Of course he would go looking for Gideon, late after hours. Of course he would be the one to find the letter. It was nothing personal. Merely Gideon running the odds and predicting which one of them would be most likely to be in a particular place at a particular time.

"So where do we go from here?" Hotch wasted no time on other questions, just got to work.

"The President left very specific instructions. He doesn't want to be disturbed or found. We're to tell the country he's dead."

His eyebrows knit together in confusion at JJ's words. "That would mean holding a funeral. A televised one. Not to mention notifying Stephen and-"

"I'll take care of it, Hotch." Blue eyes stared into him, unwavering. The Chief of Staff has never faltered in her promises. Work that was done with the utmost precision and perfection, that is what he'd come to expect from her. "All you need to worry about right now is fulfilling your duty as President of the United States. The inauguration will take place as soon as possible."

There were a million things weighing on his mind after the Cabinet was dismissed. What would he say to the country? How would he choose a new administration? Who would be his Vice President? Hundreds of choices to be made.

The very first of which was deciding what to do next. Hotch instructed Anderson to take him back to Observatory Circle, to the old, white Victorian house that was designated as the official residence of the VP. Walked up one flight of stairs and into the bedroom where he gently woke Haley.

"Aaron? What time is it?"

"5 AM." That seemed to shake most of the sleepiness from her senses, and she sat upright.

"What is it? What's happened?"

"It's Gideon," he told her. Paused. Then said, "He's dead." The truth was strictly need-to-know, and Haley didn't need to know. Every day things happened that he had to lie to her about, because the truth was too dangerous. Or was absolutely confidential. So he lied, no matter how much he wished he could tell her. At times he wondered whether or not she could tell that the information he gave was false. Did she know, instinctively, that he knew more than he was allowed to say?

This was one of those times, when her eyes searched his face before she murmured, "Oh, God. Aaron. That means…" Things had been tense between them lately, but she held him close, arms flung tight around his neck. "Our life is never going to be the same, is it?"

This time, he didn't have to lie. He simply returned his wife's embrace "No. No it won't."

The White House Cabinet Room, Washington DC May 3rd, 11:30 AM

Only eight hours later, an inauguration was put together. Eight hours wasn't enough time to process it all. Derek Morgan went to sleep the previous night sure of his status and his job, knowing that the President was a little unsteady (but then, he'd been before, and had come out of it mostly intact), and believing that Jason Gideon would be president for another two and a half years. When he was awoken that morning, the world was turned upside down, like a junk drawer, all of its contents shook loose and spilled out on the floor.

A mess, that's what it was. They were all just trying to make sense of things. The Cabinet had been through so many changes already. Not even a year ago had Emily Prentiss replaced Elle Greenaway as Secretary of State, after Elle suffered a nervous breakdown and resigned. Now Gideon was gone, too.

There were four members of the Cabinet who were exceptionally close, both with each other and with the President and Vice President. Emily, Reid, JJ, and Morgan. Along with the Director of the Office of Public Engagement, Penelope Garcia, they had a close-knit group that supported each other in the daily challenges of government work. Now Gideon was missing-in-action and Hotch was the President. That left Morgan feeling uncertain about the future, as he stood and watched the swearing in ceremony. It had been thrown together as soon as possible, almost immediately after announcing to the press that the President had passed away.

Chief Justice Jack Garrett recited the oath of office, which Hotch faithfully repeated. "I, Aaron Hotchner, do solemnly swear that will faithfully execute the office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States." Haley stood by his side, their two year old son, Jack, sleeping in her arms.

The new VP was to be an old associate of both Gideon and Hotch, the former Chairman of the Senate Appropriations Committee, David Rossi. Rossi was a bit of a bureaucratic legend, having authored several books since his days in the Senate, and wasn't known for being a team player. If Hotch trusted him though, they all had to trust him.

"Reid, what do you think about this guy?"

Reid barely glanced away from the scene at the front of the room, where Hotch was now speaking intently with the new VP. "Well, Rossi has decades of experience to offer. He changed the game in the Senate during his time in Congress, and was instrumental in putting through crucial legislation. He's respected, but I don't know if he's well-liked."

"You don't get to be where he is by being well-liked," he said.

"Does anybody get anywhere in this field by being well-liked?" Emily asked, leaning in to speak lowly. "I mean, we're politicians for god's sake." Before Morgan could respond, Hotch cleared his throat at the front of the room, and all eyes turned his way.

"I'd like to thank you all for being here," he said, his voice measured and steady. "I realize, circumstances being what they are, that things are going to be chaotic. This won't be an easy transition, and I'm going to need each of you to be at your best. With Gideon gone, there's bound to be media scrutiny and speculation. We've got to present a united front to the country right now, and show them that we're capable. If you wish to leave your post, I ask that you submit your resignation immediately. I have no plans to fire anyone currently in the Cabinet. However, there are a few open positions that will need filling. Things are changing, and this is a difficult time, but I assure you that together we'll get through it."

Morgan could only hope as much. There were so many unanswered questions. Where did Gideon go? Would the press buy their story? Would the funeral go off without any problems? How was this going to work? Hotch had always acted as a de facto leader to the team, as Gideon had a history of going off on his own and overlooking the people who made things happen. It was natural to have him in a position of power, but that didn't mean everyone would accept it.

That evening, a private dinner was held with the closest members of Hotch's Cabinet. After the main course had been served and conversation drew to a lull, Morgan stood with Reid and Emily outside the door, gossiping about David Rossi.

"He's a loner," Morgan said, tossing back a glass of whiskey. "Definitely not the kind to make friends in his work. He's focused on one thing and one thing only. Which means he has to have some sort of motive for accepting the position."

"Yeah, it's called power, and anyone in this swamp would say yes. Even those who say they'd never want the job would say yes," Emily retorted.

Reid shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. "He's a successful politician whose books have sold over a million copies."

"Yeah, so there's a million reasons not to come back, if you know what I'm saying," Morgan said. "He's rich, he's famous, he appears on plenty of talk shows and news programs. The guy could do anything, and he swore off politics when he retired. Gideon disappears and he changes his mind? Seems strange to me."

Morgan wasn't the only member of the Cabinet prone to overanalyzing people and situations. They all did. Politicians had to be good at reading people, their jobs demanded it. He could tell what a person wanted and what they needed to hear after only a few minutes of conversation, and he could determine their background based on their habits and behavior. Who had money, who didn't, who was trying too hard to fake it? Who was there for the right reasons and who was just concerned about reelection? It was all about playing the game, and Derek Morgan was good at playing the game.

"Reid, you've read all his books, right? What do you know about him other than his political record?" The Secretary of the Treasury was brilliant, and his eidetic memory made him one of the most accurate fact-checkers in Washington. On the job, he could calculate just about anything, memorize important documents, and keep facts straight; more often than not though he was utilized as a party trick at government functions.

"I don't feel comfortable speculating on the personal life of the Vice President."

"Come on, Reid," Emily urged, elbowing him. "Give us something."

Reid sighed. "He's from an old Italian family, he's been married and divorced three times, served in the Marine Corps-"

"Okay," Emily interjected. "Italian, so he's probably had strict Catholic upbringing. That coupled with the Marine Corps could make him a bit of a hardass, He's likely to be distant, emotionally detached, perhaps even lonely."

"Which fits with his inability to maintain meaningful relationships," Morgan added. "He's not a team player, and he tends to do things his way. Despite that, he probably has a moral code, being Catholic. Probably believes in redemption."

"Oh, I believe in a lot of things." The three of them turned around, horrified, to see Rossi standing behind them, looking vaguely bemused. "You got the Italian-Catholic bit right, but my upbringing wasn't that strict. As for my relationships and my time in the military, I hardly think you can accurately judge a person's personality by a few brief glimpses of their past. If you have questions, you know you can just ask."

Emily glanced down at the glass of wine she was holding, all of them embarrassed to have been caught in the act. To their surprise, Rossi simply said, "You should probably come join us back inside. They're serving dessert, and Hotch has a few things to say before we head our separate ways."

They obeyed, following the VP back into the dining room. It was still a shock to see Hotch sitting at the head of the table, where Gideon had always been. Things were more calm than the morning had been, but Morgan knew this was only the beginning. They were all still shell-shocked, standing deep in the river and waiting for the current to drag them under. 'It would be then that they would be forced to sink or swim. A thing like this didn't effect everyone equally. It would take time to heal, yes, but it would take time too for wounds to be revealed.

The only thing he was certain about – nothing was ever going to be the same.

Arlington National Cemetery, Washington DC May 6th, 1:49 PM

They buried the President with all the grief they could muster. Reid didn't feel sadness so much as bitterness, anger, but it manifested all the same. He didn't have to fake the tears as they stood on the lawn, somberly dressed in black. Flashbulbs on cameras went off all around them, marking the moment in history. Hotch gave the eulogy, as Stephen has refused to attend.

The words were hollow, fake grief for a fake death. The world wouldn't know that, though. They didn't know the casket was as empty as the things they said that afternoon. Hotch was stoic as always. Garcia and JJ looked genuinely moved, mourning the loss of a friend who would never return. Emily and Morgan stood in a stiff silence, sunglasses on despite the cloudy weather. Reid cried quietly, not caring who saw him. In his heart, he hoped Gideon was watching the mess he made, would realize how many people he'd hurt.

I was not all about him. There were other people whose lives depend on him. And he was just gone.

Everyone has always left him. His father gave up, his mother lost her mind to her illness. He could never make friends outside of work. He even lost himself, after the incident with Tobias Hankel. He was still losing himself, fighting to keep it together and not to give in to the only thing that promised consistency.

Gideon left. Gideon abandoned him. Leaving him only with a letter to remember him by. As if it helped. A piece of paper couldn't fix a heart so broken by loss, or mend what was such a violent severing of ties. Gideon was a coward. He couldn't even step down publicly. Instead, they had to fake his death for him.

I knew it would be you who came to the library to check on me. You must be frightened. I apologize for that. I never meant to cause you any pain.

Then why leave the letter at all? Gideon was one of the few people Reid opened up to, he knew how hard it had been when his father left. Had Gideon ever really been listening to those confessions? Quiet discussions on the lawn or over chess. Maybe that's all it was to him. One big chess game, and Reid was merely another pawn on the board, a piece Gideon could move to get what he wanted.

A president needs to have solid footing to lead a country. I don't think I do anymore. This country confuses me. The world confuses me. The cruelty, the indifference. And the tragedy.

The tragedy? What right did Gideon have to say the senseless tragedies of the world confused him? His head asserted that there was plenty the President had to deal with, so many losses and failures and difficult moments. He'd led the nation through dark days, even when struggling with his own personal losses. He lost Sarah, killed by a radical extremist only because she was connected to the President. He'd lost colleagues and friends, most notably at the bombing in Boston years earlier. And for all of those things, part of Gideon blamed himself.

Yet he took no responsibility for Elle's breakdown, or for allowing Tobias Hankel to get close to Reid.

It was irrational, the anger he felt, but he'd spent his whole life acting rationally. He deserved one moment of rage, to allow all the frustrations he'd compartmentalized to come crashing over him.

Tragedy. That was his life. One tragedy after another. They all had burdens to carry, but how was it that Gideon thought someone who'd been through all he'd been through couldn't understand the tragedies of the world?

As bad as losing faith in humanity seems, losing your faith in happy endings is much worse.

Was this Gideon's way of finding happy endings again? By forcing all of them to sit through an unhappy one?

For once, Reid didn't have answers. Nothing about it made sense. He didn't know why he was standing in an uncomfortable black suit, shedding tears over someone who didn't even have the courtesy to say goodbye. What was the point? What was the point of any of it? He wanted to think his work made a difference, but maybe a the end of the day he was just another bureaucrat in a suit, unable to make the slightest ripple in the world.

The rifle party raised their guns to begin the twenty-one gun salute, and simultaneous shots rang out into the air. Reid wiped his sleeve over his eyes, and a hand touched his arm gently. JJ gave him a cautious look, silently checking in on him. Reid sniffed and nodded, letting her know he could handle this. Not that he had a choice.

Gideon, one way or another, was effectively dead. It was time to let go, and move on. He deserved a happy ending, too. Didn't he?