CHAPTER TEN:
PAST, PRESENT, FUTURE
( aka 03x14: damaged )

■ ■ ■ ■ ■

IT WAS JUST ANOTHER day in the office. Dallis spent the better part of her morning going over paperwork until her head started to pound with a headache. Glancing around the office cautiously, she found no one from her team. Hotch and Reid were interviewing an inmate scheduled for execution the following week, JJ was in her office and everyone else was yet to show their faces. Deciding it was time to take a break, she grabbed something out of her drawer and slid her chair across the aisle towards Reid's desk. Placing it right where he would see it, she grabbed a post-it note and used one of his pens to write on it.

You've read the first book, you're reading the rest. Give it up, Boy Genius.

For a week, she and Reid had been in a stand-off over whether or not he should read the last two books in the Fifty Shades series. Reid, for once, was willing to ignore the fact he hadn't read all the books for the sake of never having to 'expose his eyes to that kind of literature' again. Dallis was stubborn and knew deep down he liked it, and she liked giving him shit, so she'd been placing the book everywhere he looked since their disagreement began. He'd cave, she knew he would, but this time she'd gone the extra mile and taken his well-worn copy of War and Peace hostage. His bookmark was towards the end. Dallis knew not finishing this book in particular would pain him.

Someone cleared their throat behind her.

Dallis, still hovering around Reid's desk with a stack of sticky notes in her hand, grinned over her shoulder at Emily. "Good morning."

"It is," Emily said. "What are you doing?"

"Giving Reid a gift."

Emily scoffed, immediately recognising the name on the cover. "Generous."

"That's me," Dallis winked.

"You know, this will start a war," Emily gestured to War and Peace on Dallis' lap. "That's Reid's equivalent of a baby. He loves his reading."

"Oh, yeah?" Dallis hummed. "Well, so do I."

"Okay," Emily popped her shoulders, taking a seat in front of her computer. "It's your funeral."

Eventually, Dallis returned to her desk where she locked War and Peace in her drawer. She even went the extra mile of adding the key onto the necklace she wore, as if that would stop Reid from searching to the ends of the Earth for it when he got back. Resigning herself back to her files, it wasn't long before Emily broke the silence.

"Hey, where's Rossi?" She was staring upstairs at his office door. It was open for once and he wasn't inside. Dallis hadn't noticed.

"That's weird..." she frowned.

Where had he gone?

They went upstairs to investigate, reminding Dallis of the last time they entered his office without his permission, but this was different. His desk was covered in paperwork that he'd thrown to the ground in a fit of rage. There were several drawers ripped open. The unattended door spoke for itself. Something was seriously bothering him.

"I'm going to get JJ and Morgan," Emily said, sounding just as concerned as Dallis felt. The three of them returned a few minutes later, finding Dallis closing the drawers and trying her best to straighten some of the paperwork. Emily turned to JJ. "Hotch is in Connecticut, right?"

"With Reid," she nodded. "They left last night. They're doing a custodial interview with Chester Hardwick."

"Oh, damn," Emily winced.

"He doesn't need anything else on his mind when he's dealing with a guy like Hardwick," Morgan said.

"So what do we do?"

"Well, do you have any idea what Rossi was working on?"

Dallis froze, dropping the file she was about to pick up. She knew. She'd been waiting for Rossi to approach her about it ever since Fredericksburg but he'd remained stubbornly tight-lipped. Part of her wondered if he'd changed his mind, but they'd been so busy with other cases that she also suspected he just hadn't thought about it until the anniversary came around once more.

The others didn't seem to notice her hesitation.

"I think Garcia might know," JJ said. "He stopped by her place last night."

"Why?" Dallis quickly stood up.

"I'm really not supposed to say," came Garcia's voice from out in the hallway. "He said he wanted to keep it between us, but something tells me you might also know, Dallis."

"What, me?" Dallis scoffed from where she was hovering behind the others. "No, I know nothing. Nada. Zilch." Garcia raised an eyebrow. "How'd you figure it out?"

"You're blushing," Morgan commented, tapping his index finger against one of her burning cheeks.

"Dallis Cohen doesn't blush," Garcia added.

"He might need our help, Dallis," Emily beseeched her when Dallis shook her head. "Rossi is a guy who colour codes his handwritten notes in his notebooks. Blue pens for evidentiary items, red pen for supposition and theory--"

"I know," Dallis sighed, shoulders slumping.

He'd told her he needed her. So why hadn't he come to her?

"The guy is a fussy, anal-retentive neat freak who never leaves anything out of its place," Emily said, looking between Dallis and Garcia to see who she'd manage to break first. "I would say this--" She pointed over her shoulder. "Is a scream for help."

"He's in Indianapolis," Garcia blurted. "On a twenty-year-old double homicide. He said it's time someone pays for it and he was upset."

"He worked the original case," Dallis mumbled.

The others were stunned into silence for a moment. It was clear they expected anything but this.

"Indianapolis?" Morgan repeated at last, wondering if he'd heard Garcia right.

"Yeah, he took a commercial flight this morning. He picked up a Bureau SUV half an hour ago."

Dallis pulled out her phone, fully prepared to start searching for the next available flight, but JJ stopped her with a hand on her wrist. "The jet's available."

"Then let's go," Morgan decided.

"Way ahead of you," mumbled Dallis, leading the way down the stairs.

■ ■ ■ ■ ■

AS THE JET WAS landing, Garcia texted Dallis the name of the hotel Rossi was staying in. It was a half an hour's drive in the SUV they hired. By the time they arrived, Rossi was halfway through a scotch in the hotel bar. Dallis openly admired the décor as they made their way through the lobby. Fine oak walls, black-and-white tiled floors, dim lights and soft piano music. Every drop of alcohol behind the bar looked like it costed more than Dallis paid in rent each month.

"If you're buying, I'm drinking," Emily announced as she sat on one side of Rossi, leaving Dallis to take the other stool.

"I don't think any of us could afford this place otherwise," Morgan commented.

"Yeah, I know I can't," JJ chuckled.

For the first time since he joined the team, Rossi refused to indulge them. He stared daggers into the brown liquor in his glass. "Go home."

"We thought you might need some help," Emily's smile faded.

"You're wrong."

"Well, why did you ask me for help?"

Rossi had no answer. He still wouldn't look at Dallis. Whatever he'd found in Indianapolis had taken the fight out of him. She didn't like to see it.

"Come on now, Rossi," Morgan sighed. "Bounce some theories off us. Fresh eyes can't hurt."

"This isn't even a BAU case," he mumbled.

"Maybe not yet, but I can make anything a BAU case if I want to," JJ hummed. "It's about paperwork and I know the paperwork."

Finally, he turned in his chair to face them, levelling each of them with a deadpan stare that Dallis knew, deep down, dared them to ignore him and stay. "Why do you care?"

"Because you do," said Dallis, earning nods of agreement from the others. "When are you going to realise, Dave? This team's like family. Push us away as much as you want, but when you need us we'll be here."

For a long moment, he looked at her like he was seeing her for the first time, every truth laid bare. All Dallis could do was smile, and something in that blank expression faltered. He reached for his drink, downing the rest of it, searching for the surge of alcohol that would return him to the Rossi she knew. A few minutes later, they had drinks of their own and Dallis was sitting beside him with the others around them, ready to do what they did best.

"I was here on a serial rapist in '88," Rossi divulged. "It was pretty short work. The guy wasn't going to win any IQ contests. The day after we collared him, the local detective was driving me to the airport and heard a call on his walkie of kids screaming in a house not far from where we were. He asked if I minded taking the job with him. We were first on the scene. Inside, we found..."

Morgan reached into his bag, handing Rossi the file. "Found this."

Rossi nodded. He didn't need to look. "The axe had been left behind, but it had been wiped clean. Turns out it belonged to the family. The oldest daughter, Connie, told me her father bought it for Christmas Eve a few months earlier to cut down the Christmas tree. Now, I always associate the whole thing with Christmas. Never been able to put a tree up myself again."

Dallis' heart panged. She thought about reaching for his hand as she would've one of the others, but somehow it felt different. Too intimate. Like she'd learn how his fingers felt intertwined with hers and resent the thought of letting go. Dallis was a romantic at heart, she knew that. Sometimes, she searched for emotions in moments that were out of place. She didn't want to hold his hand and find it made her feel any different than if he was Hotch, Morgan or Reid.

"So he never hurt the kids at all?" JJ questioned, interrupting Dallis' quickly spiralling thoughts. She had more important things to think about.

"Not physically," he said.

"But he would've known that the kids were in the house," Morgan pointed out.

"He only hurt the parents and then left."

"Okay, so using a weapon he found at the scene," surmised Emily. "And not eliminating all the potential witnesses, that makes him disorganised."

"It sounds like an opportunistic kill," Dallis remarked, idly angling her glass back and forth so the ice slid through the dregs of her scotch. "If he went to the Galen house intending to commit murder, why not choose a weapon of his own? The odds of him knowing the father kept an axe in the house are slim."

"But he left no evidence," Morgan countered. "Which suggests he is organised."

"There was a fingerprint..." JJ trailed off.

"But it was behind the bedroom door," said Rossi. "I don't even think he knew it was there. There should have been prints in other places but they were wiped clean. There was an open back door, a drinking glass left in the kitchen, and that one good print was not a match anywhere." Sighing, he hung his head in his hands, shielding the expression of frustration that set his mouth in a trembling line. "I've been over this a million times. I keep thinking, if there was just one more piece, one more thing to go on... the answer was right in front of me!"

"He might be dead," Emily considered.

"I have to be sure."

"Rossi, if he's dead, you may never really know," Morgan said.

Rossi's shoulders slackened. He held out the gold bracelet. Connie, George, Alicia. "When we arrived on the scene, before any of the other units got there. I could hear them. Before I even got out of the car. It was a warm morning and the windows were open in the upstairs bedroom, and their voices floated out into the street. They were crying and calling for their mummy and daddy. Three terrified children screaming for their murdered parents. I've seen so much death and pain, but that sound... It's been twenty years, and I can still hear them screaming every night. If I can't tell them for sure that whoever is responsible will never do it again, that screaming might never stop."

■ ■ ■ ■ ■

DALLIS KNEW THE SECOND she laid eyes on Connie Galen that life had not been kind to her. She was only in her late twenties, yet she wore the expression of someone whose anger at the world was constant and vicious. You didn't need to hear her story to know she was haunted. Connie stormed down the steps towards them, glaring at Rossi as he climbed out of the SUV with the rest of the team in tow.

"Hi, Connie, I brought the team with me--"

"Okay, you need to stop this," she snapped.

Standing behind him, Dallis didn't see his face drop, but Rossi's cordial greeting faltered as she stood toe-to-toe with him. "Excuse me?"

"Look, we thought if we didn't call you back the last couple of times, you would just give up and leave us alone."

The front door to Connie's house cracked open and two other people -- a man and woman who Dallis assumed were George and Alicia -- came out to watch their sister explode. They didn't seem surprised. They barely even blinked. George stood with his arms crossed, several days worth of stubble lining his jaw. Alicia fiddled with the fraying end of her black mini skirt, idly glancing at her watch as if she was counting down the seconds before they could go back inside. Despite the defensive wall they'd built up around them, Dallis could easily picture three young children forced to grow up too quickly.

"I know it hurts, but I'm only trying to make sure someone pays for your parent's deaths..."

"We don't care anymore," Connie yelled. "It's been twenty years. We need to be able to move past it. Please."

Rossi swallowed down whatever he wanted to say, hanging his head in the face of his first real exposure to failure. "I won't bother you kids again."

Connie said nothing at first, watching him return to the team she'd paid no real attention to, and then, "And you'll stop it with the gifts, too?"

"Gifts?"

"What are we supposed to do with a bunch of toys that remind us of the worst day of our lives?"

Slowly, Rossi turned back, eyes wide and confused. "I never sent you any gifts."

■ ■ ■ ■ ■

"THIS IS IT?" ROSSI asked, staring at the small pile of children's toys the Galen siblings had gathered and dumped on their dining table. Stuffed teddy bears, dolls, light-up trinkets. All typical things you'd find not in the kids aisle at the shopping centre, but at a carnival.

"It's all we could find," George confirmed, watching warily as Dallis and Emily put on their gloves and searched through each item carefully. There were no significant markings to indicate where they were purchased from. No wonder the Galens assumed they were from Rossi, the only person they knew who was this dedicated to the children they once were.

"We threw a lot of them away," Alicia explained, standing close to her elder brother's side.

As subtle as it was, Dallis presumed there was some kind of divide between the three siblings. Connie and Alicia made sure to keep distance between themselves, as if close proximity would start a fight. Alicia was the youngest. She wore her rebellion in her fitted clothes and smudged eyeliner. Connie looked tired. Her curly hair was messy, her clothes comfortable like she'd only just gotten home from work. George seemed to buffer the two of them.

Rossi let out a sigh. "I wish you would've told me about this."

"We thought you were sending them," Connie said again. "At first, we kind of liked it, but then it just became a bad reminder."

Dallis picked up a large pink bear, grimacing as most of the synthetic fur stuck to her gloves. "These are incredibly cheap." She held up the bear for JJ to photograph on her phone, as she had with the purple monkey before that.

"Where would you even buy toys like that?" Morgan frowned.

"Or why?" JJ added, lowering her phone.

"How did you receive them?" Rossi asked the Galens.

"They're usually left on the front porch at night," said Connie. "But mine was found in my car this time."

Dallis blinked, sharing a look with Emily. They seriously thought that kind of obsessive behaviour was normal for Rossi? He was determined, yes, but definitely not the type to break into Connie's car and creep around in the shadows.

"So he's following you," Rossi said, seemingly deciding to ignore the insult concealed in their naivety.

Connie gasped. "There was a pickup outside the... where I work. I just -- I always thought it was you."

"Well, what do you remember about the pick-up?"

"All I saw was the shape and the headlights."

"Morgan, obsessional crimes are your speciality," Rossi turned to the man in question, who'd taken up residence in the doorway.

The dining room was on the smaller side, barely big enough to fit the four-seater table let alone the eight adults standing around it. Most of the house looked in need of renovation. There were patches of wallpaper missing, an old water stain on the ceiling in the living room. The lace curtains were moth-eaten and torn in places. Stuffing poured from the cushioned armrest of a brown leather armchair. One of the kitchen cabinets was open and Dallis spied empty shelves. She lowered her gaze back to the toys once George coughed and crossed his arms again.

"So there's two kinds of obsessional offenders that would send gifts to survivors," Morgan was saying. "Sadists, who want to make the families keep reliving the crime, or guilt-laden offenders desperately trying to find some type of way to apologise."

"Does this look like an apology to you?" Dallis arched an eyebrow while holding up a frog with beady black eyes and gangly green limbs. She waved it in the direction of Connie, George and Alicia. "Do any of these toys hold sentimental value to you? Anything you might've played with as kids?"

They shook their heads.

"Sadists usually use something they know will remind the family of the person or the crime," said Rossi. "Jewellery, newspaper clippings..."

"These don't look like the kind of things you would send to inflict pain on someone," Emily commented.

"So it's guilt-laden," Dallis said. "But why toys?"

"They actually look like the kind of thing a child would send."

"Well, it's rare," Morgan said. "But an unsub who feels this much guilt sometimes commits the crime unintentionally. They tend to be developmentally disabled, extremely low-IQ offenders and generally, well, they're physically large and very strong. Strong to hurt somebody accidentally."

"Like Lennie in Of Mice and Men."

"Exactly."

"He needed help then," Rossi insisted. "There wasn't a fragment of evidence left at the scene. That's not low-IQ."

"Well, usually, they're assisted by an older relative and it's almost always a parent," Morgan continued.

The three siblings looked back and forth from each of them, struggling to keep up as the team fell into a seamless flow of theorising. Bouncing ideas off each other, Morgan had told Rossi. It was what made them thrive.

"And this parent rationalises that the unsub would never try to hurt anybody. See, in a lot of ways, this type of unsub, they're sort of overgrown children. JJ, when you get Garcia on the phone, tell her we're not looking for other homicides here. Get her to look into a string of less serious offences in this area involving children, but not necessarily children that have been injured or abused."

"Okay, so if the unsub was developmentally incapacitated, what made them choose this particular family? And where did the violence come from?" Dallis questioned as JJ left the room dialling Garcia's number.

Morgan sighed. "An unsub like this, when they seek out children, they want to play with them. They don't really want to hurt them, but it's their size that frightens people."

Emily turned to Rossi. "This could be that piece you were looking for."

It only took Garcia a few minutes to work her magic.

"Okay, crime fighters, I've got the information you were looking for but it may lead to more questions than answers."

"Isn't that always the way?" Dallis scoffed, moving to stand beside JJ.

"There are scads of open petty crimes as described in the very area of Indiana in the last twenty years, but here's the rub," she said. "A large portion of them only occur in the last week of January and the first week of February every year. And then it gets weirder, because the same kind of crimes crop up in Springfield, Illinois for the next two weeks. And then Des Moines, Iowa in the couple of weeks after that."

"So he's travelling," said Morgan.

"On a specific schedule for years?" Emily frowned. "Maybe he's a salesman."

"Who takes a developmentally disabled partner on a sales call?"

Dallis glanced Rossi's way, wanting to gauge what he was thinking, but he'd wandered back over to the stack of toys. Without much thought, she moved to stand beside him, nudging her elbow into his arm. The sight of these toys had bothered Dallis ever since they walked through the door. What was it she had thought? That they weren't the type of thing you'd find in a shopping aisle, but a carnival...

"Is there a carnival that stops through here at the same time every year?" she asked.

Alicia's eyes widened. "Carnival?"

"We went to a carnival the day before," said Connie, making the others pause. "It's the last thing we did as a family."

"Did anything happen?" Emily asked.

George shook his head. "No."

"But we did have to leave early," Connie recalled, grimacing. "There was this clown that made me a balloon animal. It didn't even look right, but then he kind of followed me around. He didn't really do anything, but my mum got afraid so we left."

Both her siblings rounded on her. "You never told us that."

She shrugged. "I didn't even remember it until now."

"Penelope, pull permits," Rossi ordered. Everything he had wanted was so close. "Find out if this carnival is still in business."

"This Betty is ready!"

■ ■ ■ ■ ■

SO THE CARNIVAL NEVER stopped coming to Indiana, and it happened to be in town once again. The team watched from the other side of the road as various workers pulled apart rides and stalls, packing their livelihoods away into cars and trucks to move onto the next place. If they had been just a few days late, this carnival and their potential unsub might've slipped through their fingers.

"You guys take a look around," Rossi told Morgan, Emily and JJ. "Dallis, come with me."

They entered through the open chain-link fence, watching as one man barked orders at another a few yards away. "Get more tie-downs over that Ferris hauler! I don't want to have to slow down halfway across Illinois because that moron left pieces hanging off again!"

Dallis slid her Raybans down her nose, raising her eyebrows at Rossi. The commotion caught the attention of the others, who looked back at them but continued after a dismissive wave of Rossi's hand. He and Dallis could handle it.

"You look like you're in charge," he said.

"I am," the man grunted, hoisting a plastic red crate into the back of his Ute. Dozens of metal bottles clattered inside it. Dallis wondered what kind of game they were for.

"You pulling out in a hurry?" she asked, casually popping her hands in the pockets.

"That's the way this business works. Got to be set up where the money is! Right now, that ain't here."

"Where are you headed to next? Springfield?" Rossi pried. Suddenly, the man froze, which didn't go unnoticed. The knowing tone in Rossi's voice pricked at something in his brain, bringing forth secrets threatening to spill. "We'd like to talk to you about one of your clowns."

"Clown? This ain't a circus," he laughed, rubbing at the bald spot on his head with trembling fingers. His skin was pink from exposure to the sun. "Clowns are for the circus."

"So you're saying you don't have any clowns in your carnival?" He hesitated, looking Dallis up and down. She smirked.

"How about a guy who makes balloon animals?" Rossi asked.

"We might..."

"Might?"

"At times."

"How long has he been with you?" Dallis hummed. "Twenty years?"

"Look, what is this?" he snapped, backing up until his knees pressed against the edge of the truck-bed.

Rossi followed him step-for-step. "This guy would've been complained about. Kids are uncomfortable around him. You'd have gotten reports from parents."

"I can't remember every complaint I get, mister."

"It's not 'mister,'" Rossi's smile was sharp and impatient. "It's Agent Rossi. FBI."

Almost in unison, he and Dallis flashed their badges. The man looked ready to collapse.

"Do you have a son, sir?" Dallis asked.

"A son?"

"Well, the guy we want to talk to, he'd have been a big problem for you," said Rossi. "You'd have gotten rid of him a long time ago, unless--"

"I really ain't got time for this."

"Make time," Rossi's sudden grip on his elbow stopped him from turning away again.

At last, the man nodded. Every bit of resistance he had crumbled. "He didn't mean to hurt those people. It was my fault as much as his. I got busy with one of the rides breaking down and he wandered off. He just wanted to see the little girl again... he liked her... he wanted to play. He would never hurt anyone--"

Dallis could see the scene unfolding in front of them. The boy, Joey, entering the room of the parents on accident, being caught on the receiving end of the father's axe, the incomprehensible anger that consumed him. So he lashed out, punishing the people keeping him from Connie. That was why he never harmed the kids, why the father cleaned up his mess and fled.

"Isn't that understandable?" Joey's father pleaded. "He was sorry as soon as he did it. He even put them back in bed. He just got angry and I was too late! I couldn't save them! But every year, I take him back. I make him remember what he did. I even make him pick something from the joints to give them. He never forgets. Never! I make sure of that. He's a good boy..."

From further into the property, someone started to scream. The man took off, recognising the voice begging for his father's help. When Dallis and Rossi caught up, Morgan, Emily and JJ had their guns raised at a man hiding under one of the rides yet to be taken down. He had face paint on, the overdrawn lips of a clown.

"Don't fight, Joe," the man fell to his knees, defeated tears trailing down his cheeks.

Morgan dragged Joey out and forced his hands behind his back, attaching a handcuff to each wrist as he wailed.

"He's a good boy... he's a really good boy..."

■ ■ ■ ■ ■

DALLIS WATCHED FROM THE passenger seat as Rossi said his final goodbye to the Galen siblings. The others had gone on ahead to the jet, but Rossi had asked if Dallis would wait with him. She'd said yes in a heartbeat. This was what she wanted. For him to let her in.

"The title should be delivered in the next few days," Rossi was saying as he handed Connie the key to a house. Their house. Rossi has bought it for this exact purpose, to return it to its rightful owner.

"You're just giving us a house?" Alicia couldn't comprehend it.

"Giving it back," he corrected. "It's been kept clean and maintained. It should sell for a decent price. You could all get a fresh start."

Connie hesitated. She held the keys away from her, but Dallis could see from the glossy sheen of her eyes that it would be hard for her to let them go again if Rossi changed his mind. "You don't have to do this."

"I think your parents would have wanted you to have it."

Grinning from ear-to-ear, Alicia kissed his cheek and George shook his hand. Connie sniffled and clutched the key over her heart, but her tears started to fall when Rossi held out the bracelet. The one Dallis learnt, along with the three siblings, belonged to their mother.

"Your grandmother let me hold onto them until, well... you should have them back now."

With not much else to say, he turned towards the SUV, gazing at Dallis through the open driver-side window. Her smile was soft and patient, understanding that once he drove away, this chapter of his life would be closed.

"Agent Rossi," Connie chased after him. His eyes widened as she pressed the bracelet to his hand. "I'd like you to have these. Is it okay if I call you sometime? Just to let you know how we're doing?"

"Anytime, kiddo," he insisted. "Anytime."

As they drove away, Dallis couldn't help but ask, "How do you feel, Dave?"

"Like I can finally sleep well at night."

■ ■ ■ ■ ■

WHEN THEY ARRIVED BACK at Quantico, Reid had his feet propped up on his desk and Dallis' copy of Fifty Shades Darker laid out across his knees. He was quick to slam the book shut as he caught sight of her, narrowing his eyes as Morgan cackled and ruffled his hair.

"Pretty Boy! How was Connecticut?"

"Ultimately uneventful," he said before pointing a finger at Dallis. "I want War and Peace back or you're buying me a new one."

She tapped her middle and index finger on her temple in a salute. "We've got ourselves an agreement, Boy Genius."

"Yeah, yeah..." he sighed, then noticed Rossi trailing after Dallis. "Oh, sir, there's someone waiting for you in your office."

Dallis couldn't help the snort she let out when she realised it was Kevin Lynch. Garcia hadn't filled her in on the details, but JJ had given her and Emily the gist on the trip back. She couldn't wait to see how this unfolded.

"Agent Rossi, we need to talk," Kevin said from the top of the stairs. "About Penelope... man to man..."

"Oh, Dave, good luck with that," Dallis patted a hand against his chest. "Try not to kill him, though? Pen likes this one."

"Man to man," he sighed, making his way up the stairs.

The second his door was shut, JJ started to sing under her breath, "Garcia and Kevin, sitting in a tree..."

"Get outta here," Morgan gasped, looking ready to tear off and confront Garcia then and there.

"F-u-c-k-i-n-g," Dallis crooned, swaying her hips as she walked past.

"Oh, I need to get to the bottom of this," he darted out of the room with a laughing JJ and Dallis on his heels.

■ ■ ■ ■ ■

A/N: We're going to pretend like I didn't only just remember when Criminal Minds is set vs the release of Fifty Shades of Grey ✌️