𝗗𝗢𝗡'𝗧 𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗚𝗘𝗧 𝗠𝗘 | 𝘼. 𝙃𝙊𝙏𝘾𝙃𝙉𝙀𝙍

twenty nine

Having Rossi pay for your last supper felt shameful; the least you could do was pay for the evening out as a final farewell. But you didn't. Nor did you get the opportunity to spend any sole moments with Aaron, the person you were most anxious to say goodbye to.

Every single body was inching as close to yours as possible. They all wanted to surround you, engulf you so that you could never leave- which in turn made you want to run a little more. In all sincerity, they meant it with good intentions, but sometimes they could be a little overbearing.

'A toast,' began Rossi, 'To our beloved Gene Beckett, whom we have shared some of our most violent, adventurous & interesting cases with. I applaud you, kid, you're going up in the world,' he smiled, raising a glass in your honour. The team did the same. Smiles plastered on their faces with some tears in their eyes; Hotch, however, stared at you with reason. He seemed to be the only one to understand.

'Thank you. You've made this job so much better than I could've possibly dreamed of. I'll miss you. All of you,' you thanked, pausing between your penultimate and last sentence, directing it to Aaron in particular. As of course, it was your night (oh what a privilege you had) you made them go to your favourite restaurant not three blocks away from your apartment. To begin, you wolfed down a Steak Rossini & side of chips- which was scrumptious to say the least- and everyone else had the most common Italian dishes, pasta, lasagne, pizza. The only thing heard that night was Dave's consistent complaining of how, 'This isn't authentic Italian! You're supposed to leave it for moment, not just bang it on a plate!' he scolded to the rest of the table.

'Then why don't you go and cook it?' you chimed in. Silence burst across you all. Taking a sip of his wine, Derek looked over the brim of his glass and snorted, wine nearly going everywhere. Laughs that had risen from the tummy were belting out, many of you held napkins up to your faces in embarrassment.

After the profiteroles, cakes and strawberries with chocolate had been laid upon the table, the bill was paid and Rossi was least than satisfied, you were supposed to go home- finish packing and what not but no. It was late & yet the night was still young, so leading them down a dimly lit alley way, they appeared before a small coffee shop, to which you had reserved a table. Unbeknown to them, they were inclined to have coffee before you departed in the morning, or that's what you wanted at least.

Ah, tomorrow. The grand finale.

               Empty. Both you and your apartment felt this way. It looked as though it had been robbed. Salem cried in his cat carrier all the way to the airport, and all the way inside, and all the way around it. Waiting just before your gate which had about half an hour to go before opened, the team stood, holding homemade banners and signs. Penelope wafted a large pink & very glittery sign about, your name slathered in the middle, collaged between pictures of all of you.

'You didn't think we were going to let you go without saying a proper goodbye did you?' she sang, cheerily & sadly. They all hugged you. One large family.

Spencer was silent for the most part, and you still had plenty of time to spare. 'Come on you. Let's go get a drink before I board.'

Standing before a Starbucks, you wobbled back and forth from toe to heel. 'You know I'm only a phone call away right?' you assured, but Reid remained silent.

'And you know that I'm not really leaving. I'll always be here in spirit,' you scoffed some spiritual crap at him, despite the fact he was the most logical person you knew, ;You know the ghost that haunts the archive room downstairs?' and Spencer resisted a smile.

'You don't have to make me feel better, you know. I'll come to terms with it at my own pace,' he uttered, not once making eye contact. He can barely look at me.