Self-Indulgence: The Way To An Aching Heart (Criminal Minds Multi-Fan-Fic)

CHAPTER 2 - I Am Not As Strong As I Pretend

Author's Note: erm, erm, erm, :(.

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"Here."

  Cassie looked down at the torn off edge of a notecard. It had chicken scratch on it. A second, more in-depth glance offered the insight that it was not, in fact, hieroglyphics, but instead a series of numbers.

  "What?"

  "It's... a phone number... ever heard of those?"

  "I'm not that archaic. Why?"

  Morgan's right corner of his bottom lip protruded for a moment. He'd suck the top part between his teeth and bite down. He let it go with an exasperated sigh.

  "We all need to have each other's numbers eventually, call it a safety precaution."

  "Alright, then eventually." She'd push the paper back towards him. Dark hands raised in disinterest. "Keep it." Derek urged. He wasn't going to give her a chance to refuse him directly, and with a swift turn he was gone towards some other end of the parking garage.

  Cassie had half a mind to throw it away. Not because she harbored any ill intentions towards Morgan. Mostly the opposite, she just didn't deem it necessary. She hardly answered her phone. Didn't like it all that much. The countless missed calls and unread messages that clogged the tiny blue screen were a testament to that nature.

Though, she weighed the option of telling him she had blatantly thrown out the piece of paper when it came time for all numbers to be exchanged. Which wasn't high on her want-to-do list, so she'd keep it. Stuff it in the back back pocket of dark blue jeans and call it a day.

The parking garage being so full wasn't surprising, three government buildings sat just a few yards away, what was surprising was the fact she was staying. Actually, she was walking towards her car. It had a weird ring to it. It wasn't a rental, or from work. Her car. Technically someone else's given to her. Cassie fought off the urge to spend a few more moments meandering the cold and green-hued structure. She knew where the car was, she didn't want to go home yet.

Yeah, she had one of those too now. A home, a car, pretty soon she'd be registered as a functioning member of society. What a horrible feeling, really. Dark boots kicked up loose concrete just outside the car's driver's side door. The black forester wasn't her style. It stood out too much in her opinion. She hadn't peeled the decals off of the back window. It had been eight months. She should do that.

She got in the car anyways and didn't think about it for the next two weeks.

  The drive wasn't too far, only thirty minutes if you pretended to avoid traffic. Thirty-five if you didn't. Cassie lived in the suburbs of a neighboring city with a white picket fence and a perfectly mundane neighborhood. The house was blue with white accents and a brown roof. The lawn was taken care of, freshly mowed by some teenage boy looking to fund his future mustang. Cass didn't know how far he'd get with that, especially as she watched a gaggle of boys his age rush down the dark streets with bags full of convenience store items.

  The garage had two tall metal shelves on either side. Clutter covered every inch of open space. Holiday decorations, yard work tools, paint supplies, and more that was covered by the former. The forester slowed to a stop, then relaxed forward and jolted her in her seat. The nylon seats didn't offer much cushioning.

  Above her head was a blinding white light with a motion sensor on the fritz. It blinked on and off, and then on again. The door to the garage led to the washing room, and from there the kitchen. Cold white and black quartz was accompanied by walnut cabinets. Unlike the garage, the rest of the home lacked any sort of decoration. Instead of a couch she had a chair, and instead of a grand dining table, she had one found off the side of the road. The decor didn't match the rest of the home. Then again, neither did Cassie.