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SSA David Rossi, stamped his feet to rid them of the newly fallen snow and entered the welcoming light and warmth of the diner. The delicious smells of grilled and fried foods assaulted his nostrils as he pulled off his gloves and took a moment to look around.

Several people perched on round stools in front of a long counter that split the rectangle shape of the building, into two halves. They drank coffee and applied themselves to food on white ceramic plates sitting atop paper place settings. He noticed a pie under a glass dome and wondered if it were Anna's special peach pie. The clink of silverware and the hum of conversation served as a counterpoint to the music from the old-fashioned jukebox that sat at the south end of the diner. He recognized the tune, but couldn't remember the title. He began to smile as he made his way to the north end of the building.

"Agent Rossi," said a voice that stopped him in his tracks.

He glanced left and found Penelope Garcia sitting in a booth with red, white, and blue striped upholstery. She held a cup of something he thought might be green tea. A slice of Anna's apple pie sat next to her right arm.

Her blond curls fell around her shoulders, and she smiled broadly. Her clothes, always a shield against the world, seemed to excel in their job. She wore a yellow sweater over a dress patterned with yellow, white, and black geometric shapes. Her dark eyes smiled at him through the lens of her green framed glasses.

"Hello, Kitten," he greeted.

"Hello, Dave."

He smiled and turned his attention to the approaching waitress. "Coffee black, Maria, and if that's Anna's peach pie," he indicated the offering under glass. "I'd like a large slice with vanilla ice cream."

"You got it, Agent Rossi," said the black-haired woman, who wore a grey uniform and a brilliant smile that made her dark eyes sparkle and emphasized the laugh lines around her generous mouth. "Good to see you."

"You too."

"So," Garcia continued. "You only call me Kitten, and you only come here at two in the morning for pie, when something's bothering you."

"True," Rossi admitted. "Why are you here so late?"

"I couldn't sleep."

"I sense it's more than not sleeping. You have the look of triumph rather than stress."

"I won this time. I beat that lousy creep at his game."

"I never had doubt," Rossi responded.

"I did," Garcia whispered and her bravado failed. "I kept thinking, What if I fail, again?"

"You've never failed us, Penelope."

"Not true."

"That was an extraordinary situation that you had no control over," Rossi reminded her. "You did the best you could."

"I know, and I'm okay with it, but it was nice to win this time."

"You are amazing, Penelope Garcia."

"Yes, I am," she agreed and made him laugh. "Now, are you going to tell me what's bothering you, Dave."

"I sometimes wonder if our society's collapsing under the weight of all our narcissism."

Garcia stopped stirring her tea. "Why?"

"Sandra Madsen. After we arrested Mr. Whitfield, I spoke with her. She mentioned that she always thought about victims of violent crimes and how frightened they must be."

"Makes sense."

"Not really, which is why I can't sleep. She said she wasn't frightened, but exhilarated."

Garcia's eyebrows went into her bangs. "Seriously?"

"That's what I thought. At first, I thought that she was in shock, and I reminded her that he nearly killed her. We were standing at the door looking at all the press, and she was thrilled they were there for her. I told her it wasn't real, but she said. "Yes, it is." She said she was grateful to Whitfield and would I thank him for her. She had something in her eyes that chilled me to the bone. I thought I was in the middle of a dream. Then she stepped out into the media storm and started talking like she was completely divorced from the violence."

"Wow," Garcia said. "Do you think she was in shock like you said or –"

"She's a rampant narcissist. She had rewards and articles and photos on her wall, like trophies. Whitfield fed her ego, and because of him, she'll win back her position with the network."

"But that's no reason to thank a serial killer."

"As you say," Rossi agreed and took a bite of his pie.

"Maybe you're right about the downfall of society."

Rossi shrugged. "I only know that working with people like you, and the rest of the team keeps me from believing that people like Whitfield and Madsen are the new norm."

"There are more of us than them," Garcia said resolutely.

"I hope you're right, kitten."

"Hey, what are you guys doing here?"

Rossi and Garcia looked around to see Reid hurry towards them, dressed in an old blue coat with his trusty purple scarf and scuffed running shoes. His cheeks were red from the cold and his hair tousled from the wind, but he wore a big smile that made them both grin back.

"Hey Reid, sit," Rossi slid over and made room for their friend.

"Hi, sweet cheeks. What are you doing here?"

"I was too keyed up and couldn't sleep."

"Let me guess," Rossi began after another sip of coffee. "Your teaching is going better than expected."

"Yeah, I mean I was nervous, and I didn't know if the students would pay attention, but it was great."

"No jokes," Rossi said and grinned.

Reid rolled his eyes. "No jokes. I listened to your advice, and you were right. At first, I couldn't remember anything I prepared, but when I finally started, it was easy. I guess I must have done something right because some of the students came up after class to say how much they enjoyed the lecture."

"These admirers wouldn't happen to be female," David asked and smirked when Reid blushed.

"Oh," Garcia cooed. "I think we know the answer to that question."

"It wasn't like that," Reid said loudly."

"Ah hm… Rossi commented. "Are you sure about that?"

Maria approached, and a desperate Reid turned to her and ordered coffee. "You want pie, honey."

"Ah, I don't think –"

"He'll have some of the peach pie."

"Dave!"

"Now that you've ordered tell us about these female cadets." Garcia pushed after Maria winked at Reid and hurried away.

Reid put his head on the table. "I don't want to."

Rossi nearly laughed, and for a moment his equilibrium restored, he thought it might just be possible that Garcia had a point. The good did outweigh the bad, at least, for now.