Disclaimer: I don't own, please don't sue.

Author's notes: Inspired by the Magnificent 7 Little Britches AU. This story is obviously AU, and does NOT contain slash or gay pairings of any kind – also like the Mag 7 AU universe. If you've read the Little Britches AU, you'll understand why I'm warning you all first. The first chapter has been betaed by the wonderful kristanci, but due to some RL problems, she was unable to beta the next few chapters - would anyone like to volunteer?

As usual, if you don't like the drink, don't spoil the pot for others who might enjoy it. Flames will be used to roast marshmallows, and spam will be fed to my dog. I do, however, welcome constructive criticism and comments. Every author should. :)

And yes – I miss Gideon, I truly do. For the series itself, have only watched up to season 3 – but anyway, it's AU, so I don't care if he and Rossi are both here.

Edited to add: Normal text - present day

Italics - past events (or quotes)

Important note: If enough people like this idea, I'm hoping to make this an open AU for other authors to write in, exactly like the Mag 7 Little Britches AU. However, I can only open up my sandbox for others to play in AFTER this, the founding story, is completed. For more info on the Mag 7 LB AU: http : / / www . blackraptor . net / Joy / LB / LBLinks . htm

Feel free to get in touch with me if you're interested! ^.^

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Chapter 1

Wherever a man turns, he can find someone who needs him. ~ Albert Schweitzer

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Aaron Hotchner wasn't very sure why he was here. They'd caught their unsub, packed up, prepared to leave – and something had made him ask his team if they minded making a stop here, at the hospital, before they went home. They hadn't – in fact, he was pretty certain that they understood, far better than he did, the reason why he'd been compelled to come here, to visit... what could he call them? The unsub's last three victims?

This unsub had been a very sick man, who had been rejected many times in life, but more recently by his girlfriend, who had accused him of being a terrible father to his son. She had no way of knowing that Benjamin Harrington's warped ideas of fatherhood came from his own abusive father, who had taught and brainwashed him into thinking that the only way to show love to kids was to discipline them constantly, even when they didn't need it. In Harrington's mind, this had translated to the need to prove that he truly was a good father, and he'd kidnapped several kids to show it. His 'parental methods', however, had left two of the children dead. One was literally beaten to death, one was in a coma, and the rest were badly injured and would be severely scarred, emotionally and mentally. It made the hardened agent cringe inside and think of his own son, Jack, who was with his now ex-wife Haley. He could maybe see Jack every other weekend unless a case they caught was out of state.

He didn't have time for this, he didn't have the energy or resources to care about three more kids now. Didn't he have enough on his mind?

But these last three – they'd captured his heart somehow, and the hearts of his team, and he remembered how he'd first noticed them…

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The Chicago skyline was beautiful to look at, even when cut off here and there by several brick-red buildings along the line, and it would have been something the two FBI agents could have enjoyed if they hadn't been in their department-issued vehicles and in the middle of a stake-out.

"Anything, Prentiss?"

The dark-haired agent looked back at her boss and gave a negating shake of her head. "Nothing, Hotch. Darn it. We know this guy is targeting the schools, and he'll want to find a new child to replace Jodi Benton soon, so where is he?"

"Gideon and Rossi are coming up with nothing on their end as well," sighed Hotch, resisting the urge to drum his fingers on the steering wheel of their nondescript black SUV, which was pretty much standard issue no matter which city they found themselves in.

"Detective Redding says their school has pretty much cleared out for the day," Prentiss informed him, closing her phone. "Do we wait?"

"At least until all the kids are gone," Hotch decided – if they couldn't catch their unsub, they could at least make sure all the kids at this school made it back safely. Prentiss nodded, eyes on the few kids who were still hanging around, around waiting for their parents still under the care of the teachers.

He wasn't sure why, but the sight of the three children who were waiting by some bushes at the other end of the school's front steps caught his attention. Maybe it was their body language; it was strange, different from the other kids who were fidgeting and impatient, or hanging around talking to teachers and friends. These three were held back, striving not to be noticed – and at least two of them were much too young to even be attending this school. Hotch's first thought was that they were the younger siblings of the other students, perhaps looking for their brothers and sisters – but then he realized that they were sticking together, huddling close, and seemed to be waiting for everyone to leave.

Taking out the binoculars from the glove compartment, he trained them on the kids, drawing Emily's attention to them too.

"What is it, Hotch?"

"I'm not sure," he replied, distractedly. "Something's off."

The oldest of the trio, a boy of perhaps eight or nine years, was chocolate-skinned and brown eyed, with very short but thick black hair. He was scanning the crowd, eyes intense as he watched the kids and teachers. The other two were a boy and a girl, both blonde, though the boy's hair was leaning towards a light brown shade. This boy was younger, perhaps six years old, and the girl looked around the same age.

Who were they, why were they here, and what or who were they waiting for?

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"Excuse me?" Pausing for a moment at the nurses' station, he got their attention and asked for the room he'd last seen them in. The woman behind the desk shook her head.

"The little boy is out of surgery now, sir," she informed him. "He's been moved to the children's wing, since he's out of danger, and one of our pediatricians is keeping an eye on him."

"And his friends?" Hotch hadn't seen Gideon approaching, but he heard the intensity of the other man's question. "The other little boy, and the girl?"

The nurse smiled. "Oh, those two. They're with their friend, trying and failing to stay quiet and well-behaved. They refused to leave him, and in the end it just became easier to keep them together. Something about a promise they made."

Hotch smiled. He knew all about that promise…

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They didn't scatter when he approached them, and he saw a glint of sharp intelligence in the oldest boy's eyes that gave him an idea why. Only those who didn't belong would run when approached, so if they wanted to appear as if they did, they couldn't run. He watched with interest as the younger two quietly moved behind the brown-skinned boy, who eyed him warily, standing straight and tall. Up close, he looked rather grubby, but was otherwise unafraid.

"Hey there," Emily addressed them first. "May I ask who you are?"

"You may," blurted the brown-haired boy at the very back, and now they could see he was very skinny and small, with thick, half-broken glasses and hair that was a bit on the long side. The oldest boy scowled.

"Don't say anything else," he said, and the little boy fell silent, his eyes dropping to the ground as he scuffed his worn-looking shoes in the dirt.

"Well, she asked," he mumbled, and the little girl giggled.

"He's right," Emily amended quickly, "I should have been more careful with my grammar. What I meant was – what are your names?"

The boy eyed her, and shrugged. The younger two looked at him, but this time, didn't seem inclined to speak since the other boy wasn't saying anything.

"We gotta go. Our parents are waiting around the corner," mumbled the boy at last. "Mine – and theirs. See ya."

They left together, none of them looking back, and though they didn't realize it, their voices trailed back, carrying on the wind.

"They won't take us back, will they, Derek?"

"No. They can't. They don't know who we are. That's why I said not to tell anyone anything unless I said it's okay."

"That man sure was scary. He didn't smile even once."

"Don't worry guys. I promised you I'd take care of you, and that we'll stick together."

"Promise?"

"Until forever?"

"I promise. C'mon, let's go back."

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They'd figured by then that the kids had been lying about having parents right around the corner, but then Gideon had called saying that all the kids at the other schools had gone home and they should reconvene at the station. With nothing else to do, they'd agreed and headed back. Later, after finding out that the unsub had been listening to the police scanners and had known they would be watching the schools, they'd worked together on a geographical profile and located a possible nest where Harrington might be hiding with the children.

"This must be the room," Gideon broke in, as they came to a stop outside the room they'd been directed to. Hotch nodded. There was a strange dread in his stomach, and he both wanted to enter… but was afraid to. Unbidden, memories came again, slightly fragmented yet clear, and he went back to yesterday evening, in Chicago's warehouse district…

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"On my signal, we go in. If that bastard is in there somewhere, or the children, we get them out and take him down. Understood?"

The men nodded to Redding, who was leading the SWAT team into the warehouses where they suspected that the unsub was hiding. If the unsub himself was not present, they believed they would at least find the childen. Rossi and Prentiss were preparing to follow them, and Gideon was backing up Hotch today. They were ready.

Then Prentiss stopped. "Hotch. Look."

It was the boy from yesterday, and the little girl was with him. The girl was crying, and the older child had his arm around her and was gently hugging her, saying something to her. They were right in front of the warehouse, and hadn't seen the police yet.

Hotchner didn't hesitate. Handing his gun to Gideon, who was giving him a look that clearly had a question in it, he said, "I'm going to get them out of there. Cover me."

Gideon raised an eyebrow, but nodded and allowed him to move slowly past the police barrier, heading straight for the kids. The boy's head shot up and this time, he looked scared, and made as though he would run, the girl with him. Hotch held up his hands, revealing that he was unarmed, trying to show that he wasn't looking to hurt them – though he had an idea that he should have removed his vest before trying this, with its striking white letters announcing to the world that he was FBI.

"We're leaving, mister, we won't be in your way," the boy said quickly, pulling the girl closer to himself. She looked up tearfully at him and sniffled.

"But – Derek…"

"We're just going," he repeated, and pulled her with him.

"Wait." Hotch couldn't let them leave. "It's not safe around here. How about you come with me and we'll go behind the barrier, and some policemen can take care of you?" He noted a thin line of red spreading across the girl's sleeve, and getting them to safety suddenly became all that much more urgent. Gambling on what little he'd heard of them the day before and what he'd deduced from their behavior, he tried, "Listen. I know you're both homeless, probably runaways from a foster home or group home where you were treated badly. You've been through a lot and come this far together, taking care of each other. Now, I don't see your other friend from yesterday, so I'm guessing that something very bad has happened to him, and if I'm right, you live nearby here and had a run-in with a very bad man… so please, just trust me, just this once. I might represent everything you no longer believe in, but Derek -" he stressed the boy's name, "- I promise you, I swear, that I'll do my very best not to let them split you up. All right? Just come with me to where you'll be safe while we try and find this man, and the children he's been taking from their homes and parents. All right?"

The two children looked at each other. The little girl had stopped crying, but still she looked to Derek for guidance as to what to do next. Derek was sizing Hotch up, but though wariness burned at the back of his gaze, it was clouded over with a very understandable sort of desperation, and Hotch knew he'd guessed right. This was a child who had had to bear the burden of looking after both himself and his two young friends, and though he didn't trust adults, likely because of something that had happened in his past, he wanted to. Oh, how he wanted to… but he couldn't, because somewhere along the way, when he'd trusted an adult or authority figure, he'd been hurt or betrayed.

Hotch had to help him to make that step, and there wasn't much time. Gambling again, he held out his hand to the boy. There was a minute of hesitation, but then Derek sighed and nodded. "We'll follow you." He refused to take Hotch's hand, but it was a compromise, a starting point, and Hotch felt his lips turn up in a small smile as he led them both back behind the barrier.

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"Hotch? Aaron?" Gideon gave him an unexpectedly compassionate look, and Hotch sighed. He hadn't really expected to be able to hide his thoughts from the older, more experienced profiler. Jason Gideon was one of the best, and the BAU was lucky to have him.

"They're safe now, Aaron. And Social Services has promised that they'll do everything they can to honor that promise you made them, and keep them together, even if they have to go to a group home."

That wasn't exactly a comfort. He was sure most of the people who ran them genuinely cared for the welfare of the children they took in, but in all these years on this job, he'd seen enough to know that there were also others who just wanted the checks that the children brought in, or who didn't care because they were too busy handling all the other children. And these three – were special.

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"We lived in there," the little girl informed Emily, seated safely in the back of the SUV with Derek, under the gaze of one of the cops while the others listened to them being questioned. The boy was fiercely protecting her, even now, so they didn't move too close or attempt to separate them – it was enough that they were answering questions.

"We came back the other day, after school, the three of us," the girl went on. "But there was already some other kids there, and a weird man. Derek didn't like him." She looked with wide blue eyes at Derek, who nodded reluctantly and began to talk.

"The kids were all beat up pretty bad, and I just knew the guy had been hurting them," he said, a slightly defiant edge to his tone. "I tried to get JJ and Spencer out of there, but I wasn't fast enough -" his voice cracked slightly, and they saw his eyes widen and his breathing increase slightly, signs of emotional distress that Hotch sought to rectify.He gently squeezed one brown shoulder and gave an almost imperceptible nod of his head towards JJ, knowing the boy would understand. Derek straightened slightly, the only sign of acknowledgment that Hotch got, and cleared his throat a little, finishing, "The man grabbed Spencer, but I got JJ and myself out of there. But not before he cut her."

"We were gonna go back," JJ said, her eyes filling with tears again. "Spencer's only little and we want him back. We gotta save him." She sniffed, and Derek patted her rather awkwardly.

"Aw, honey," Prentiss soothed, pulling her into her arms, just for a while. "We're gonna get your friend out, we promise."

Tearful blue eyes met hers, and JJ sniffled again, but unlike Derek, she was willing to trust the word of an adult. The boy looked almost jealous as Emily passed the little girl back to his side, but then their priority was Spencer, and getting him away from that man.

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It took almost all of his courage to open the door and go into the room, but it was more than worth it. There was a delighted cry, and a little blonde blur leapt off her bed and came running to him, and Hotch gladly caught the little girl in his arms.

"Hi, JJ, boys," he said, smiling down at her and nodding to the two boys. JJ definitely wasn't shy, grinning right back at him and wriggling in his arms until she was comfortable.

Behind her, Derek was slower to get to his feet. There were only two beds in the room, but it seemed that JJ and he were sharing. Gideon nodded to the older boy as he made his way in and headed straight to see Spencer, who was awake, but seemed slightly groggy.

"Hi Agent Gideon," he mumbled, slurred enough that they knew he was under some sort of pain-killing drug.

"Hello, Spencer," Gideon replied softly. "How are you feeling today?"

"Better, sir, thank you," the smaller boy answered, though he barely seemed able to stay awake. "You came to visit us?"

"Yeah, they really came." Seeming embarrassed at his own outburst and surprise, Derek ducked his head a little, refusing to meet Hotch's eyes as the agent approached the bed, JJ propped on his hip.

"We said we would, so we did," Hotch reminded him, smiling, taking a seat at the foot of Spencer's bed, being careful not to dislodge any of the tubes that made the tiny boy look so vulnerable. His shirt was off, and bandages wound around his skinny torso, and his broken glasses were folded neatly on the table beside him. He had the blanket up to cover himself, and despite his grogginess, seemed rather self-conscious about exposing his body completely to the two men.

Hotch frowned a little, hoping it didn't mean that the boy had suffered any form of sexual abuse previously, before escaping to the streets with Derek and JJ. Considering what had happened to him while Harrington had had him… but no, this couldn't be PTSD for that. Harrington had not sexually abused any of the children he'd taken – he'd hurt them in other ways, but not like that.

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The scene inside the warehouse when they'd finally broken in wasn't at all what they expected. Somehow, Harrington was expecting them and waiting, behind a barricade of boxes and old crates, and they could hear the kids crying behind him, the music of fear that was rampant throughout the unsub's nest.

They had to hesitate. They couldn't risk the childrens' lives – that was the priority, not the unsub.

Harrington's head popped up over his makeshift protective wall. "W-who are you people?" he shouted threateningly, gun in one hand, and a little girl in the other who was crying in pain at the grip he had on her hair.

"Harrington," Rossi tried placating him, holding his hands out and gun sideways in an attempt to assure him that he was no threat. "You're Benny Harrington, aren't you? We're with the BAU…"

"What the hell's that?" Harrington demanded, then suddenly pushed the barrel of his gun to the little girl's head, threatening, "Hey, if you take one more step closer…"

Rossi stopped, backing up. The man glared at him one more time, then released the girl, who turned, sobbing, and disappeared behind the barricade.

"Get out," Harrington growled, eyes flashing with fury. "My kids and me, we don't need no cops or BAU or nobody here."

"We're NOT your kids," a small voice piped up, and the police and agents all winced as Harrington struck downwards at something on the floor beside him.

"Shut up, you!"

The child began to sob, and to Hotch's dismay, he saw Prentiss look worriedly at him and knew that she too, had recognized Spencer's wobbly treble. Gideon tilted his head sideways, and before they could stop him, he was taking off his vest and stepping forward. Harrington lifted his gun with a furious yell.

"I said, get back!"

"You're hurting those children," Gideon said, sorrowfully, but sternly, as his team mates and SWAT raced to try and get into a position to cover his back. He ignored them – his focus was on the man before him. "You're not their father, and you're hurting them. You have no right."

Harrington's face turned dark purple with rage. "No right?" he bellowed, bringing his arm up and waving the gun as he ranted. "No right? Their parents weren't like mine! They don't know how to discipline children properly! My father taught me…"

"Benny," Gideon informed him, soft yet clear, "Your father was wrong."

And then, as Harrington lifted his gun to rage again, Gideon lunged for the unsub's gun arm… and they all stared in shock as a pair of little hands reached up first and pulled down –

The gun went off. Gideon gave a cry that was equal parts rage and pain and grief, and Hotch barely had time to remember how his friend always reacted to losing children before Jason breached the barricade, Rossi right behind him as together they wrestled Benjamin Harrington to the ground – and once the man was restrained, and being led away by the detectives, Gideon whirled and scooped the little brown-haired boy into his arms. Spencer's breathing was erratic, and he was crying and holding his bleeding chest, where a bullet hole gaped. He allowed Jason to hold him, but sobbed: "It hurts!"

Swallowing, Gideon whispered, "I know. I know. But it's okay. I'll take care of you, okay? I promise. Shh…"

The sobbing stopped slightly, and Spencer asked, "Did you get him? He won't be able to hurt anyone anymore, will he? I was so scared…"

"We got him, son," the agent assured him, a gentle expression on his face. "Thanks to you, we got him."

Only Hotch was close enough to see the single tear that escaped and trickled down Jason's cheek, and he said nothing.

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None of them had rested until the SOB had confessed and been taken away, and now…

Spencer looked bravely up at Jason through his rather long hair, blinking and squinting a little, making Hotch wonder if he truly needed his glasses to see or if it was just a nervous habit.

"What's gonna happen to us now?" the smaller boy wanted to know, his little face incredibly open and vulnerable and trusting as he looked at Gideon. "Will the social people split us apart?"

"They can't!" burst out JJ, horrified. "Derek promised we'd stay together!"

Derek said nothing. But then, they already knew that he had no love for the system, no more faith in something that was supposed to protect them and all the other children who had no families of their own. Watching him, neither man could bear it.

"Well, for now," a voice announced from the doorway, "The three of you will have to stay with us, since you're material witnesses."

They all turned, to see a grinning David Rossi, and a rather sheepish Emily Prentiss. Hotch glanced at Gideon, then raised an eyebrow.

"Material witnesses?" he wanted to know. "When did that happen?"

"Right around the time I had a chat with Ms Chow of Social Services, and then a chat with my mother," admitted Prentiss, which explained her blush and embarrassment – she didn't like using her mother's status as a diplomat to pull strings, no matter what they might have thought about her at the start. "Who in turn did what she could so that the kids could stay together, at least until we find a way to honor that promise of yours, Hotch."

Derek's head jerked up sharply, and before he could stop himself, he met Hotch's gaze and demanded, "You really meant it? You'll try to keep us together?"

Hotch nodded. "I said I would," he responded, as JJ and Spencer's heads both turned to him with open curiosity and hope. "And I keep my promises."

Derek stared hard at him, and slowly shook his head. "Ain't no one never made that kind of promise to us and been able to keep it, Agent." And if he hadn't been looking, he might have missed the barest hint of challenge in the boy's tone.

He kept his gaze steady, keeping the link with Derek's chocolate eyes. "I plan to, son. I can honestly tell you that we all plan to."

"Why?" The boy was openly disbelieving.

"I'm sorry?"

"Why? Why bother about us? Aren't we just three street rats? That's what everyone says."

"No one's ever cared about us," JJ said, with a glance at Derek, uncertainly trying for her own reassurances – and it gratified Hotch that she was looking to him for it, and not just the older boy.

"Well, sweetpea," Gideon murmured, "Then you're going to have to get used to the idea that someone does care, now."

The arrival of the doctor interrupted any response from any of the children, but the team got the feeling that the message had been sent and successfully received. What each child made of it was a whole different story, but for now the doctor met them outside to discuss their health.

"The social worker assigned to them, Ms Chow, discovered who they are and gave me their files so I could figure out their medical histories and such," Dr Lombard explained. "Derek Morgan, eight years old, is rather underweight and small for a boy of his age range, though he certainly seems tough. He's rather malnourished and dehydrated, but beyond that, I can find no obvious physical injuries."

"The girl, Jennifer Jareau, or JJ as she insists on being called, is also underweight, and she's a little pale – I suspect a lack of proper nutrition and needed vitamins, probably due to her diet since she's been living on the street. You'll find she lacks energy because of this – she's definitely not as active as a seven-year-old girl should be. And Spencer Reid – the youngest at six – you already know that he was shot. The bullet, thankfully, missed any vital organs and went right out the back, and we were able to patch him up without complications – but he'll have to take it easy until his stitches can be taken out. I'd prefer to keep him here, but since Agent Prentiss informed me he's now a material witness, arrangements have been made for him to be brought over to Quantico's general hospital, where a room is ready for him there."

"Thanks." Hotch hesitated, then asked, "I don't suppose we could take a look at the other information on those files?"

The doctor shrugged. "Why not? You're FBI, aren't you? And the children are under your care now…" He handed the folder to Hotchner, who thanked him. He didn't need Jason to ask, just handed Spencer's file to him, while he opened Derek's and JJ's.

Yes, Derek Morgan, eight years old, son of a Chicago cop and a housewife, of mixed racial heritage due to his father being African American and his mother, Caucasian. His father had been killed in a grocery store robbery, which Derek had witnessed at the tender age of five – and his mother and sisters had been killed when the rest of the gang that had robbed the store had come to pick up their friends afterwards, taking out what witnesses remained in a drive-by shooting. Derek had been badly injured, but he'd survived, and been placed in foster care. He'd spent a few years moving from home to home, from state to state, never able to settle anywhere, until finally a year ago he had disappeared from the system entirely – and taken two children with him. The files were filled with reports of fights and anger and disobedience – how was it, Hotch wondered, that no one had seen the damage that the constant upheaval and unfair pre-judgment had done to the already hurting little boy?

Seven-year-old JJ's file was different – her parents had died in a boating accident, and she and her three brothers had been separated and placed in the system as well. Her brothers were all older than her, and Hotch suspected that if he asked, JJ wouldn't know where they were now, or even remember much of their faces – she had been four when the accident had happened. The children did have one grandmother still living – but she had refused to take the kids in, claiming that she was too old and feeble to raise even one child, let alone four, and three of them active boys at that. JJ had ended up in the home with Derek – and for whatever reason had bonded strongly with him, strongly enough to leave with him when he'd run away. There was no mention of abuse in the file, but why else would Derek have run? Hotch paused – no, best not to judge prematurely, he would ask the boy later, if Derek would trust them enough to tell them.

Gideon read out the basics of Spencer's file to him – Spencer was six, and from all accounts he was a gifted child, with an eidetic memory and incredible learning skills. At his young age, apparently he had a high IQ and was at the level of an average eight-year-old child, not a six-year-old. His father William Reid had abandoned Spencer and his mother Diana, who had been deemed unfit to raise her son due to her schizophrenia – she had serious episodes, and had come close to hurting Spencer once, though she hadn't meant to and truly seemed to love her son. Spencer had been placed in foster care by the court, and had somehow ended up with Derek and JJ. There was only one fight recorded in his file, an incident involving Derek, and from there they could all guess how it was that the boys' paths had crossed. The older boy must have stepped in to protect his smaller, less physically imposing friend, and they'd both gotten into trouble for it.

Well, Hotch already knew they were special. The files merely served to confirm it. Gideon seemed lost in thought, gazing towards the room where the other two members of their team were entertaining the kids. He looked up when Hotch moved.

"We'll find out more about them when we get back," Hotch said, softly. "For now, let's let Spencer rest and help Derek learn to trust us, all right?"

"Why are we doing this, Hotch?" Gideon looked up, seeming genuinely unable to understand. "We've had other cases with children before. Why these kids? Why now?"

Why. It was an important question for them to ask, especially while profiling. But though usually Hotch had the answer waiting, the children weren't unsubs, and anyway, he wasn't sure himself. He only knew what his heart was telling him – that he had formed a bond with those kids, and Gideon had too, and well – they would have to see where things went from there.

"They've left footprints on our hearts, haven't they?"

Hotch looked at the older profiler, whose smile had turned contemplative and wistful. He wasn't sure how to respond, wasn't sure he wanted to… because it would acknowledge that Gideon was right, that what his friend said was true.

It might not be a bad thing, but it seemed so illogical and fast and unreal that right now, it just scared Hotch. But he knew it was true. Somewhere on his heart were little Derek, JJ and Spencer-sized footprints, and Hotch was going to have to figure out what to do about that.

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"Some people come into our lives and quickly go.
Some move our souls to dance.
They awaken us to new understanding
with the passing whisper of their wisdom.
Some people make the sky more beautiful to gaze upon.
They stay in our lives for awhile,
leave footprints on our hearts
and we are never, ever the same."
~ Anonymous

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Please review.

RK9.