Desiderium: longing for something that has been lost

Chapter 32

"there is a magic in that little world, home; it is a mystic circle that surrounds comforts and virtues never known beyond its hallowed limits." — robert southey

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Quantico

February 25, 2008

11:35 pm

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Garcia patted Morgan's arm and walked off the plane and onto the tarmac. Maybe it was just her, but the air in Virginia smelled better than it did in Las Vegas. Morgan followed after her, carrying her bags. 

He laid them down in a pile at her feet and she nudged them with one bejeweled high heel. Rocking back on his heels, he glanced over at her. "So you're going back to your place then?"

Garcia nodded. "Yeah. Emily offered to stay with me for a little." She leaned down to pick up a bag. "I told her only for a few nights." 

Morgan nodded, handing her a bag. "Ok."

Garcia gave him a tight smile, and gestured towards an idling SUV, Emily sitting at the wheel. "I have to go Morgan." She wanted desperately to hug him, to assure him that this awkward tension that was between them wouldn't, couldn't  last forever, but something held her back, and she nodded at him stiffly and turned towards the SUV, feeling her eyes well up with tears. 

Morgan watched her go, the feeling that all that was good and right in his life, had just walked away in a pair orange sparkly heels. 

He let out a deep breath. 

Rossi came up behind him, and gently laid a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, how 'bout you come back with me and the kid? He doesn't really trust me yet, and it'd really help if there was somebody there that he knew."

Morgan could read in between the lines. He picked his bag up from the ground and nodded at Rossi. "Yeah, ok." He looked behind him at the plane. "Where is he?"

"He's coming, I had to wake him up." He didn't mention that Spencer had been stuck in a nightmare, and he had to force him out of it, before he left the cabin of the plane. 

"I'll be in the car." Morgan grabbed the bags and walked off towards the last remaining SUV. 

The other two joined him, a few minutes later, Spencer sliding in quietly in the backseat, and Rossi in the passenger seat, after stowing his and Spencer's bag's in the back. 

It was a long, quiet ride back. Morgan glanced up to check in on Spencer. He had rested his head against the window and held his broken hand closely against his chest. Shifting gingerly in his seat, he caught Morgan's eyes in the mirror and glanced away quickly. 

It was a unwritten rule that Rossi's house, or what he firmly insisted, mansion, would serve as the local meeting place for any team dinner or get together on the rare chance when they had the time. 

It was also an unwritten rule that Rossi would let anyone of the team stay the night, should they drink too much and be unable to drive back to their respective homes. This happened few and far between but it did happen. 

Morgan had been to Rossi's several times, had been celebrated and celebrated there many times. 

But now, as he drove through the stony gates and up the gravely driveway, and as the silent dark house loomed up against the cloudy dark sky, he realized there was going to be no happy celebrations, no laughter, no feeling of wholeness. 

He pulled into the garage, and pulled the keys out. 

Nothing but silence. 

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