Five Word Ficlets... Penelope Garcia (Criminal Minds)
Another set of the bustle ficlets... these are for hiddencait who gave me "Garcia from Criminal Minds , and the words delectable, abashed, frippery, utopia, parsimonious..."
Delectable
In one of her even more playful than usual moods, she had compared them all - her team, her little family - to delicious, delectable chocolate. While taste-testing, naturally...
Morgan of course (sculpted chocolate thunder that he already was) had been a Dark Caramel Embrace, her favourite. Hotch, he had been dark too - a Dark Praline Swirl with a touch of bitter orange. JJ had made her think of Lemon Ganache, and Rossi of Irish Whiskey Truffles; Prentiss had been matched to Hazelnut Praliné, smooth and rich with that hint of pure sweet nuttiness inside.
Reid was special. Super special. After a lot of serious - really serious - thought and testing, she'd decided he was a Mocha Kahlua Triple Cream. Maybe even two. Or ten.
Jason Gideon, she'd never quite connected with, but Espresso Liqueurs seemed to be as close as she had managed. And Elle - difficult, fiery, Elle - had been chilli chocolate with that subtle kick in the back.
Kevin, her Kevin, his chocolate changed every time she found a new one. Lately she had thought of him as Creamy Peanut Butter Ganache, simply because Creamy Peanut Butter Ganache made her happy and so did Kevin.
That was in her more playful moods, though. Sweet.
In the cold light of today's murder - the slow, sweet, sickening poisoning of all those people - play seemed a long way off.
Abashed
Sometimes, a small part of Penelope felt a touch of feathery, feather-light nostalgia for that little online fantasy world. Camelot had been fabulous, her alter ego (Lady Paradise Glittermist) had been every bit as awesome as her name, the quests she and her virtual band of fellow adventurers had been on for all that time had been long and complicated and enthralling and blessedly free of real life hurt and misery, sparkly and exciting and harmless fun. Everything she wanted life to be.
And Sir Kneighf had been the knight errant to die for...
- To die for...
- Quite literally, die for.
And every time that small part of her hit that phrase, felt again the lash of shame, pain and guilt, as fresh as when she had looked into Jason Gideon's eyes and flinched from what she had done.... and it hid away abashed.
And the larger part of her shut the nostalgia away and looked for sparkly and exciting and harmless somewhere... real.
Frippery
{The note was written on homemade pink - and purple - stationary, and wrapped around something}
Dear Fearless and Utterly Fabulous Leader
We all know you are the World's Greatest at Sensible and Seriously Stoic, but even Sensible and Seriously Stoic has to break out sometimes.
Trust me. I am the Oracle of All Things Flippant, Frivolous and Fun, and I know this.
You don't need to put this where anyone might see it, sir, but you need it. Just sometimes, you know?
{He unwrapped it, and gazed at the rainbow coloured 'dancing flower', face as still and emotionless as stone. When he touched it with one finger, a bright, jingly, impossibly cheesy tune tinkled out}
Because it's true, sir.
{'I wanna be happy... but I can't be happy... '}
And because I'm me.
{'Till I make you happy...' he felt that fragment of a smile on his face}
And because I really do.
{'too...'}
Utopia
In my Perfect World, there is sun and smiles and giggles. There are good people everywhere. There are no murderers, no skeevy sickos with their guns and their knives and the other things they use and the ways they use them. There are no rocks we have to pry up in people, and nothing black and icky hidden underneath.
In my Perfect World, there are happy families who just love each other. Not broken and bitter and bleeding ones doing god knows what to each other for god knows how much too long.
In my Perfect World, my loves, you don't have the scars my all-seeing eye can't look away from sometimes, and my all-knowing brain can't pretend aren't there. Morgan wouldn't have had that done to him as a child, Reid wouldn't have seen his mother go mad, Emily wouldn't have had to be 'dead' to survive, Elle wouldn't have gone to the dark side, Hotch wouldn't have lost his Haley. You'd all have what you deserve, because you never deserved what this so imperfect world gave you.
In my Perfect World, my splendid cyber skills would be celebrating people like you, not uncovering and exhibiting people like... them. Because in my Perfect World, they wouldn't be them, which would be so so so much happier and lovelier and better for everyone. Including them.
We wouldn't even be needed in my Perfect World. We may never even have met...
Parsimonious
In the end, Hotch didn't ask about the 'thing'.... whatever the thing was that Garcia had done to get them all those shiny new computer tablets. He knew that - for the sake of the budget and the Quantico bean-counters and the headaches he would have when the budget came due and Strauss's parsimonious vulture's eye was on the spending in his unit.
He also knew Garcia, and well enough to know that he really didn't want to know. Garcia's creative use of 'things' tended to make him wish occasionally that someone else, anyone else, was her team leader.
(Not, even in his most anti-'thing' moments, did they make him wish she wasn't on the team. Never, even for a moment. Not even when 'things' were making the budget more hellish than ever. Like each and every one of his people, she was worth any amount of 'things'.)
In the end, Hotch let it go. Because sometimes - like where the odd Dean & DeLuca morning teas came from, and how JJ justified the fifth trashed SUV in that rather explosive bad six month period, and how his team had explained where they got that $50,000 for Reid to play poker (oh, he knew where, but his poker face could beat Reid's any day)... just sometimes...
Garcia was right. Best not talk about - or have to pay for - the 'thing'.