Silence. "If I had never gotten involved…"

Survival. "…Henry would have a little…"

Fear. "…what's the word for that, Spence?"

Time. Struggling. Pretending.

Hope. "Am I getting another godson?"

Smiles. "Possibly. Maybe a goddaughter."

JJ ran her hands through her hair and took a moment to breathe, willing away the tears in her eyes. She had work to do. She had cases to sort and file, calls to return, faxes and emails to print; she had a lot to do, and she planned to keep at it until it was done. She was nothing if not dedicated. She had a great work ethic. She—

Stalling. She was stalling.

Because she knew she couldn't make it through the several months without telling Will—without finally unearthing that knot in the pit of her stomach—and she didn't want to think about that. She didn't want to think about explaining, reliving, crying, losing all over again.

Knock, knock.

JJ's head snapped up, and she quickly painted a soft smile onto her features when she saw who was standing in the doorway. "Hey, Spence. What's up?"

Spencer gave her a small smile and stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. He had a large, plastic bag in his hands—it looked like it might have said Kohl's on the side—and he was fidgeting slightly.

"Uh, I…" Spencer offered a weak, nervous laugh. "I, uh, I can never think of a way to start these conversations, so…" He set the bag on her desk and pulled the plastic down to reveal a brightly-colored, folded-up blanket.

JJ was surprised—and definitely confused—but she reached out and took it into her hands. It was wrapped in ribbon, and she could feel the carboard keeping it stiff inside, as if it had come directly from a store. It was microfiber, the material supernaturally soft beneath her fingertips, and according to the label on the front, it depicted a rainbow against a clear, blue sky with fluffy clouds lining the bottom.

"It's really nice, Spence." Befuddling, but nice. "I… don't know what to say."

"It's for the baby," he explained, gesturing to the object in her hands. "I, uh… I did a little research, and when you have a baby after a miscarriage, it's called a Rainbow Baby."

JJ's heart clenched, tears immediately springing up in her eyes. "I can't—"

"I thought it was fitting, because… it's such a beautiful and wonderful thing that comes after a terrible storm." Spencer pressed on, though he had to have heard her attempted interruption, and she could see his hands moving more as he gained confidence. "I like the idea of a Rainbow Baby. It's, uh… it's sort of like when it's fifty degrees inside and ninety degrees outside."

JJ blinked slowly, caught off-guard by the question and spending the pause in silence rather than objecting. Spencer held his hands up in a silent request for her to bear with him, and she found her voice wasn't willing to refuse him.

"If you start to feel hot inside, you go outside for a while, and when you come back in it feels colder. It isn't, actually, but the shifted perspective makes it seem that way." He gestured to the blanket again. "We—people—do this to make things more bearable, and there's nothing wrong with that; and when when the rainbow comes out, and you see it for the first time… you might feel extra excitement or joy, and there's nothing wrong with that, either. Because even though… you held Henry in your arms, and it was like holding sunshine… it was different. Not because Henry isn't as bright or as colorful, and not because you love or need him any less, but because there wasn't any rain in the sky to reflect the light."

JJ hugged the blanket to her chest, heart pounding wildly beneath the layers of fabric, and she tried to swallow around the lump in her throat. She sniffed softly, lips trembling, hot tears falling from her eyes before she could dash them away.

"JJ, admiring the rainbow doesn't mean you've forgotten about the storm or what it did… and it doesn't mean the storm didn't do damage—some of it irreparable—or that all the clouds have cleared away… it just means you choose to focus on the fact that the storm is over."

Tears were rolling freely down her cheeks, but she somehow managed to look him in the eyes. He moved a little closer, leaning on her desk and softening his voice with a smile.

"Rainbows are there to remind us that… even though there's still rain on the ground and clouds in the sky, there's hope. Because the sun is coming out, and light and color are coming back into the world, and things aren't as bad as they used to be, and they're only going to get better as the day goes on." Spencer wet his lips, his own eyes misting slightly as he continued. "It just means you know… your baby changed your world… because you're a mom, and that's what babies are supposed to do to moms."

JJ barely held back a sob, but once the first one escaped, there was no point in trying to hold in the rest. She dropped her chin to the blanket and reached out with one hand, feeling around blindly for her box of tissues.

Spencer pushed the box into her hands and walked around the desk, hesitating for a moment before pulling her into a hug. He pressed her head against his stomach, putting a hand in her hair and moving it slightly, as if trying to stroke it.

JJ wrapped one arm around his waist, the other repeatedly bringing fresh tissues to her nose so she could blow it. She wiped her tears away, new ones always reclaiming the skin as soon as her fingers were gone.

"…am I doing this right?" Spencer whispered.

JJ laughed. Despite it all, she laughed, and she nodded her head against his stomach. "Yes, this is a very good and comforting hug. You…" She screwed her eyes shut and tried to swallow the burn in her chest and throat. "I really needed this today, Spence. You don't know… how much I needed this."

There was a smile in Spencer's voice when he replied. "I'm glad. I… I didn't know how to make you feel better, but… I hated seeing you so sad. I'm glad it worked."

JJ dug her fingers into his shirt and wiped her face with another tissue, sparing a brief thought for the miserable state her makeup must have been in. "I—"

She sniffed hard and pulled away slightly, smiling when he quickly dropped his end of the hug; physical contact had never been his favorite thing, and it spoke volumes of how much he had wanted her to feel better.

"I, uh, I need to go home and… and tell Will. I've been stalling… but he needs to know, and I think… I think I can tell him. I think…" She looked at the blanket again and smiled through her tears. "I think this will help."

Spencer smiled softly at her, hands shoved awkwardly into his pockets, as they often were. "It'll be okay, JJ. You and Will are a great team—great parents."

JJ stood up and grabbed her purse, tucking the blanket under one arm. "Thank you." She stopped to lean up and give him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Thank you so much, Spence. You'll—you'll never know what that meant to me. No one will."

"You will, and that's all that matters," was all he said, that tiny smile still lingering on his lips. "Go home, be with Will, and take care of yourself."

JJ moved to leave but stopped to give him one, final hug before rushing toward the elevator. She reached with her free hand to feel the soft fabric again, feeling a genuine smile part her lips. She was still soaked from the rain, and flood had washed away things she could never get back, but it was over. It was over, and the sun was coming out, and she was ready.

She was so ready for her rainbow.

Spencer dropped into JJ's chair and waited for the phone to connect, unable to keep himself from smiling. He pushed the chair from side to side, occasionally letting it twirl all the way around, a giddy feeling rising in his chest.

"Spencer?"

"Yeah, it's me." His cheeks were starting to hurt from all the smiling. "It worked, Mom. I told her everything you told me, just like you said it, and it helped. It made her feel better, Mom."

Diane chuckled on the other end, clucking her tongue a few times. "Did you doubt me, Spencer? Mother knows best." She paused briefly. "You take care of her."

"I will. She's taken care of me so many times, and… I just will, Mom. Promise." Spencer wet his lips and turned his chair a few more times, his voice dropping a few decibels as he approached a slight shift in topic. "Did you name him?"

Diane sighed, but it wasn't necessarily one of grief or irritation or fatigue. It was something almost wistful; it was a reverent, reflective sigh. "Michael Elliot Reid."

Spencer smiled again and reached into his pocket, pulling out the keychain he had bought on impulse after their last conversation. "Thank you so much, Mom. For telling me, I mean." He pressed his lips together, but that didn't keep the rainbow from making him smile. "Thank you for… always seeing the good in me… for loving me before you even got to hold me…"

"Of course, Spencer." Diane laughed softly. "You'll have to apologize on my behalf. Hopefully, your friend can have a close second, but the most spectacular rainbow came to me years ago."

Spencer laughed, blinking away what felt like the beginning of a tear as he got to his feet. "I guess I have to keep you updated now, huh?"

"Of course." Diane said it as if it were the simplest thing in the world. "I'm emotionally involved now."

"Well, then, let me get you up to date." Spencer threw his bag over his shoulder and made his way to the elevators, turning out the lights in the bullpen as he went. "You know all about Henry, but the last update you got was at Halloween. So, since then…"