CHAPTER SEVEN:
WAITING ROOM
( aka 03x09: penelope )

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THE HARD BENCH WAS unforgiving in the sterile emergency room. Dallis wanted to move but she was rooted in place. Her feet were glued to the floor, the soles of her boots leaving horrible red stains whenever she moved. Dallis was terrified for them to spread. The irrational sense of fear continued to eat away at her stomach until she swore her insides had rotted, threatening to upend its contents across those shiny tiles.

There was an alarm ringing somewhere. Nobody moved to answer it. What if it was urgent? Dallis couldn't begin to comprehend how these doctors and nurses seemed so unaffected. If something happened, did they not feel the crushing weight of knowing they could've done something, changed that person's fate?

Dallis let her head hang. She squeezed her eyes shut. The white reflection of the room bounced off the insides of her eyelids. She couldn't escape it. It made her head spin, her stomach dancing with violence once again. She let out a frustrated cry, rocking back to press her head against the chair.

Suddenly, there was a hand on her shoulder. Someone was saying her name. She knew she needed to answer, but her voice had been stolen along with Garcia's body when they took her away in that ambulance, abandoning Dallis on the steps of her apartment building, painfully alone, the flashing red and blue lights swallowed by shadows.

"Dallis," the voice said again.

She realised it was Hotch. He hadn't hesitated to come to her when she made that call. She couldn't remember what she said, how she managed to find the words Garcia has been shot and put them together in a sentence. Now, he and JJ waited with her for everybody else to arrive. JJ had tried to hold Dallis' hand but she was quickly and firmly rejected. (She couldn't pass that red stain onto her, too. It would be Dallis' burden to bear. It had to be.) Instead, JJ settled for sitting beside her, as close as Dallis would allow, sniffling into the space between them. Hotch had started pacing the length of the room and was yet to stop, learning the steps from one end to the other.

"Prentiss and Dave are outside," he was holding his phone.

Dallis hadn't heard it ring.

Where was her phone? It wasn't in her pocket.

Her thoughts were thoroughly scattered. Inhaling deeply, she encouraged herself to just keep breathing, one after the other. Her lungs would relearn the familiar pattern sooner or later.

"Prentiss has a change of clothes for you," Hotch continued when Dallis merely blinked at him.

Shock was an alarming thing. She knew the symptoms of it -- knew she had it -- but it had consumed her without remorse. There seemed to be no light waiting at the end of the tunnel.

No reprieve.

"Dallis, did you hear me?"

"Yes," she muttered, nodding. "Thank you."

He hesitated, squeezing her shoulder once before letting go. As he moved back, Dallis caught a glimpse of a pale-faced Reid emerging from the elevator. His eyes were red-rimmed, mirroring their own. He stood motionless a few feet away, shoving his shaking hands into his pockets when JJ rushed over to him.

"She's still in surgery," she said. "There's no word."

"This is crazy," was all that he managed in response.

Rossi and Emily were the next to arrive. Emily went straight past Hotch towards Dallis, discarding her duffle bag on the floor before kneeling down to wrap her arms around Dallis' shoulders.

"Are you alright?" she asked, then just as quickly said, "God, why did I say that? Of course you're not. The bag's for you, okay?"

Rossi caught Dallis' attention when Emily released her. He was already looking at her and it took him another moment to tear his eyes away, but they shone with kindness that the stern furrow of his brows failed to portray. He looked at ease, unlike the rest of the team. He must've been the only person to make it home before they found out about Garcia. The green dress shirt was replaced with a dark grey long-sleeved shirt. The dress pants and polished shoes had been traded for jeans and runners. He looked damnably human.

"What do we know?" he asked.

"Police think it's a botched robbery," Hotch said, but both him and Dallis weren't so sure.

"Where's Morgan?" Emily scanned the room and quickly came up empty.

"He's not answering his cell," JJ sighed.

Reid was quick to reach for his own phone. "I'll call him again."

With everyone distracted, Dallis searched through the duffle bag Emily had left for her. She found a pair of black yoga pants, a baby blue quarter-zip and sneakers. She carried the bag into the nearby bathroom, locking the first cubicle door behind her. Shaky fingers unbuttoned her blouse. She shed her clothes like a snake shedding its skin, but she found no comfort in the new materials. The quarter-zip was a bit loose, the yoga pants tight, the shoes a size too small, but she was innately thankful for Emily thinking of her. She said as much when she crept out of the bathroom, stubbornly angling her head away from the mirror as she went.

"You're welcome," Emily soothed, gazing down at Dallis' hands as they set aside the duffle bag now holding her dirty clothes. "Did you not want to clean yourself up?"

"No," said Dallis.

In truth, she doubted the blood would ever come off.

"Guys, Morgan's phone just keeps going straight to voicemail," Reid announced as he returned to the group.

"Where the hell is he?" Emily asked but no one had an answer.

"Just keep trying him," Dallis said. She returned to the chair she'd previously inhabited, curling up on it with her knees drawn to her chest. "That's all you can do."

About half an hour later, with no word from theatres, Morgan came sprinting up the stairs, his breathing erratic. He scanned their familiar faces for Garcia's, turning to JJ when she stood up to approach him.

"She's been in surgery for a couple hours."

"I was in church," he said in explanation to their silent questions. "My phone was off."

"There's nothing you could've been doing here," Reid promised him.

"Well, do the police have any leads?"

"I spoke to the lead detective," Hotch said. "He doesn't think we'll get anything from the scene."

"That's probably on me," Dallis mumbled. The dip of her legs from the chair to the ground made Morgan turn to her, finally seeing the state she was in. She swallowed as his face crumbled. He drew her up into a hug in seconds. "I did what I could, I promise."

"I'm sure you did," he held a hand to the back of her head. Dallis let herself sink into the touch for a moment before retreating.

Before Morgan could say anything else, a doctor in scrubs appeared calling Garcia's name. Morgan lead the charge over to him.

"The bullet went into her chest and ricocheted into her abdomen. She lost a lot of blood. It was touch and go for a while, but we were able to repair the injuries."

Dallis started to sway, feeling the swell of dangerous hope pushing the weight of the world off her shoulders. Rossi reached out to steady her with a hand on her back but Dallis couldn't afford to miss a word the doctor said.

"So, what are you saying?" JJ asked.

"One centimetre over and it would have torn right through her heart. Instead, she could actually walk out of here in a couple of days, and I'd say that's a minor miracle."

There were tears trailing down Dallis' cheeks but a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

"She needs her rest," the doctor concluded, closing the file holding Garcia's lifeline in it. "You can see her in the morning."

The second he was out of earshot, everyone turned to Hotch. Botched robbery or not, good news paved the way to vengeance. Dallis could feel the fog starting to clear in her mind.

"David and I will go to the scene," Hotch said. "I think the rest of you should be here when she wakes up. I don't care about protocol. I don't care whether we're working this officially or not. We don't touch any new cases until we find out who did this."

Dallis watched the two men prepare to leave. Just before they could disappear down the stairs, she forced her feet to follow them. Hotch was the first to notice her approach. He already had words ready to dispute her possibly going with them but he didn't have to worry about that. Dallis still dreaded the thought of seeing the apartment courtyard. She needed to see Garcia first, to see her eyes open, her smile. To know it in herself that their brush with Death would not be a repeat occurrence.

"Hey, could you do me a favour?" she asked, turning to Rossi. "I left my phone by Garcia's stairs. Could you find it for me? I think it's destroyed, but just in case."

"Of course," Rossi nodded.

"Get one of the others to call us if there's any updates," Hotch added, not that Dallis needed reminding.

He turned to leave but Rossi hung back. "Go on ahead of me, Aaron. I'll meet you downstairs."

Hotch looked between the two of them. Whatever he saw on Rossi's face made him nod.

"Dave--" Dallis began tiredly.

Without a word, he hooked his fingers around her wrist in a gentle but commanding touch and lead her back to the bathroom. He bypassed the women's toilets, entering the unisex one with only a lone cubicle. Pushing up his sleeves, he had the water running warm, a soft haze of steam billowing up to fog the glass of the mirror. Dallis couldn't stop herself from looking this time. Rossi hadn't let her go.

"I can do this on my own," she mumbled.

The Dallis in the mirror had frizzy hair and smudged makeup. If she was anywhere and anyone else, it might've simply looked like she'd had a late night out with friends.

Rossi blinked at her. "Then why haven't you done it already?"

She gulped.

"The doctor said she's going to be okay, Dallis. You don't have to punish yourself anymore."

The water ran pink over both their fists as, slowly, he guided her open palms underneath the faucet. The cheap liquid soap made her skin feel dry, but the peeling blood left her raw, like a phoenix reborn in ashes. Dallis stared at Rossi's working hands but the blood never found a home there. It disappeared down the drain as if it'd never been there.

A few minutes later, when he was satisfied that the bright red hue of her skin was just from the heat, he drew out her hands and dried them with a heap of paper towel.

"You should get some sleep," he said, discarding the soiled paper in the already overflowing bin.

Dallis huffed out a laugh. "I don't think that's possible."

"Just try."

When she returned to the others, they'd all taken seats around the room, prepared to wait out the early hours of the morning. With heavy eyes, Dallis dropped into the seat between Morgan and Emily, quickly accepting Morgan's silent offer of his shoulder to rest her head on.

Somehow, she managed what felt like a second's worth of sleep, but her mind remained active with memories on repeat.

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"DALLIS," MORGAN GENTLY NUDGED her chin with his arm. "Hey, wake up. Man, she's a heavy sleeper..."

For a second, Dallis lingered in a state of semi-consciousness. Then the ache in her back kicked in, and she realised she was still in the hospital emergency room, and why she was there, and the cold dawn washed over her.

"Is everything okay?" she asked, warily taking in Morgan's expression.

"Yeah, Dallis, everything's okay," he was grinning from ear to ear. "Garcia's awake. Thought you might like to see her."

Dallis was up on her feet before he fully got the words out. A nurse was waiting to show them the way to the right room. She pretended not to notice the few extra people tagging along than was typically accepted.

Dallis knew Garcia would not be in a pretty state when they saw her, but her eyes still glossed over when she truly took in all the wires attached to her friend. She managed a soft, out-of-it smile as Dallis stumbled to lean over her, trying her best not to crush her in a hug but still desperate to feel the warmth of her.

"Hi, no tears," Garcia whispered as JJ crowded in on her other side. "I'm afraid if I start crying, I'll come unstapled."

"I can't help it," Dallis choked out as JJ desperately swiped at her cheeks. "I thought... that would be the last time I saw you, Pen."

In spite of what she said, Garcia's eyes filled with tears. She pressed her forehead to Dallis' and set her mouth into a thin line, withholding the sob that threatened to spill over. "You'll never know just how much I appreciate you, Dallis. Thank--"

"Don't you dare thank me," Dallis cut her off with a glare.

Garcia coughed out a laugh, letting her head flatten back against the pillow. Dallis stepped aside to let Morgan into the space with her. He clutched Garcia's clammy fingers in a tight fist.

"How are you feeling?"

"Confused, stupid and in pain," she mumbled.

Whatever the tension between them, it was gone now. Life had shown them what really mattered.

"Are you up for some questions?" JJ asked.

Garcia sighed. "I never saw it coming. He seemed deliciously normal."

Dallis froze.

"You know him?" Reid frowned.

Garcia's chin dipped in a small nod. She smiled sadly at Morgan. "You were right. I shouldn't have trusted it."

No.

It struck Dallis all at once. The man who she'd seen with Garcia, the one who took her on a date. He had shot her friend. He had tried to take her from them. Fury lit a fire in her veins.

"It was that guy I told you about," Garcia voiced her thoughts. "The one I met at the coffee shop."

"You never told me his name, Pen," Dallis commented, a muscle in her jaw twitching from the harsh grit of her teeth.

Garcia hesitated. "I wanted to believe he was interested in me."

"Forget that," Morgan said.

Dallis' anger was spreading fast. A wildfire in the making.

"I let my guard down," Garcia continued.

"No," Dallis snapped. "This isn't on you."

Sending a cautious glance her way, Emily tried to keep her voice calm, "Do you have any idea why he would have done this?"

Garcia shook her head, her lower lip trembling as Reid went on to add, "Did he threaten you? Did he want something?"

"I just thought he liked me."

"Okay, why don't we come back in a little while?" JJ suggested.

But Dallis wasn't leaving until she knew who did it. Until she had a name to match his deceptively charming face.

"Pen, please," she said. "Who was he?"

"James Colby Baylor."

The second they were out the door, Morgan struck his fist into the wall, leaving a dent in the whiteboard beside the nurse's desk. Shaking the pain out of his fingers, he looked ready to do it again but Reid stopped him.

"You need to stay calm."

"Don't," Morgan exclaimed. "Don't tell me how to be."

Dallis wanted to do more than punch a hole in the wall. She forced herself to turn away from Garcia's room where Garcia had asked JJ to stay back a second. She glared down at her taut fingers. It was instinctive, familiar, an anger her mother often said came from her father. Not Anthony, who'd married Hope Larrsson when Dallis was nine and given her kids his surname. But the man who Dallis shared half her DNA with. He gave Dallis nothing but memories and a bite that could scar.

"Do either of you remember anything she said about him?" Reid asked, refusing to take Morgan's frustration to heart.

"No," Morgan mumbled.

"I know what he looks like," Dallis said and both their heads snapped towards her.

"Do you think you could identify him?" Reid asked; then, in a gentler tone, seemingly remembering that Dallis wasn't just any witness, "Would you be up for that? You've had a difficult few hours."

"What's a few more?" Dallis popped her shoulders in a shrug. "I don't remember everything about him, but I'll know him again if I see him."

Emily returned with her phone pressed to her ear. She drew it away as her call ended, telling them, "I just talked to Hotch. They think he used a revolver."

Morgan scoffed. "Who the hell uses a revolver?"

"Someone who doesn't want to leave shell casings behind as evidence," Reid pointed out.

"What about witnesses?"

"None so far," Emily sighed. "And he's staged it to look like a robbery."

"Which means if he's smart enough to use forensic countermeasures, the odds are the name he gave Garcia is probably bogus." JJ approached them then and Reid forgot whatever else he was going to add. "Hey, what did she say?"

JJ's smile was thin. "She made me promise not to talk about her like a victim."

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DALLIS LET THE SMOKE drift from the end of her cigarette as she watched the idle comings-and-goings of the hospital car park. She'd decided to get some air after JJ's revelation of Garcia's promise. There wasn't much more to do as they waited for the sketch artist to arrive along with Hotch and Rossi, who were finishing up at the crime scene. After fishing her wallet out of the duffle bag where she'd left it in her pants, she made the short trip down the road for a packet of cigarettes from the gas station, finding herself an empty bench outside the main entry to light one up.

Dallis didn't smoke often -- at least, not anymore. When she was younger, she'd picked up the habit of partying with her college friends, but her mother's scathing disapproval every time she returned home either smelling of smoke or cheap perfume in a poor attempt to conceal her actions was enough for her to give it up. Now, she only turned to it on days like today, when she needed something to untwist the knot in her gut.

"Never took you to be a nicotine kind of woman," Rossi remarked as he approached with his hands in his pockets. Hotch wasn't with him but Dallis didn't bother to ask where he was. Instead, she shuffled over so Rossi could sit next to her, wordlessly offering him her cigarette. "No, thank you. I don't smoke unless it's a cigar."

Dallis smiled. "So black coffee and cigars. Maybe I am starting to figure you out."

"Maybe," Rossi said, then held his hand out to her. "Your phone, as requested. It's been buzzing like crazy, so with any luck it's repairable."

The screen flickered beneath a spider-web of cracks, but she managed to make out that she had several missed calls from Austin. Sighing, she resigned to call him later off a payphone and pocketed the device, grateful for the familiar weight of it in her pocket.

"What's this?" Dallis raised her eyebrows, reaching for Rossi's wrist as he went to withdraw it.

Tucked beneath the sleeve of his shirt was a gold-link bracelet with three charms hanging off it. Each had a word etched on them, but Dallis didn't get a chance to read them and she had the sinking feeling she wasn't meant to see it. Quicker than she could blink, Rossi seemed to remember himself and he snatched it off his wrist, hiding it away from view.

"Well, I didn't take you for a charm bracelet kind of man," she frowned.

"I'm not," he grunted. When Dallis merely hummed and turned away, letting the silence settle in, some of the tension dropped away. He sighed. "I know what it's like to punish yourself over something out of your control, Dallis."

She nodded, squashing the end of her cigarette beneath the toe of her shoe. "Wanna talk about it?"

"No," he left no room for her to argue, not that she would have. "But I made a promise a long time ago and I don't plan to break it."

Dallis considered this. "Well, if you ever decide you need help with whatever it is you're doing, you just let me know."

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A/N: So this is my shortest chapter so far and I kind of hate it, but what do we think?? I tried to make Dallis' reaction as realistic as possible, but I also didn't want to take away from the others' reactions and make it all about her. I hope it came across this way. Let me know what y'all thought? <3