"You don't like me, do you?"
"Wow. Nothing gets past you, Sherlock. Do you keep one of those magnifying glasses tucked away in that little vest of yours?"
•••
Lydia Beowulf works for the Hostage Response T...
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Lydia couldn't look at them any longer. As soon as she drifted in through the doors to the BAU, they still sat in their pristine vase on her desk. Untouched since she left them hours before. They hadn't wilted, but they weren't as beautiful as they once were.
Usually, she'd want to scream and rip her hair out. With how much that was wrong in her life at that point, it was the appropriate response in her opinion. But she was pensive, melancholic at best. She felt like she was ten feet above herself and watching herself walk below.
She knew things had to change. She had to change. The fact she let it get that far was eating her alive and clawing through to her heartstrings. She couldn't live closed off any longer, it clearly didn't benefit her.
When she reached her desk, she dropped her bag on the floor. She picked up the vase, lingering on it for a second, and then dropped it in the trash can beside the L-shaped table. Before she could sit down and gather her bearings, she heard a gasp come from a very energetic Penelope who just so happened to be walking by. Lydia assumed she was going up to get Hotch to start debriefing.
"Oh no. Trouble in paradise already?" Penelope came closer and rested her bejeweled hand on Lydia's shoulder.
"No—I, Um—it's a long story, I guess." Lydia stumbled over her words. An uncommon feat that anyone who knew her would recognize.
"This is the part where I say I have time, and we really don't, but I will make the time for you just say the word—" Penelope started to ramble and Lydia raised her hand.
"I really don't want to talk about it right now, I'm sorry." Lydia looked down at her feet, unable to meet Penelope's eyes. She couldn't even tell Penelope if she wanted to without filling her in on the entire story, and that was the worst part.
Penelope looked a bit defeated, but ultimately decided to not push any further. "Well wolfie, if you ever need to talk, you know where to find me."
Lydia nodded with a tight lip smile that didn't meet her eyes as Penelope walked away toward Hotch's office. Lydia's eyes went back to the bin and glazed over the once beloved snapped stems.
As she looked down, she saw a familiar pair of converse enter her line of sight. How was he always there in times like those? It was as though he was thirsty for the shedding of her tears.
"Lyl," He said in a hushed tone. One that was serious. It was unfamiliar and sent a chill down her spine.
She didn't answer. There was absolutely nothing she wanted to say to him. She quickly wiped her hands down her face to try and gather her composure. Her eyes drifted up to meet his, which burned holes into her. Whatever facade they played behind had disappeared.
