A/N: I don't know how I feel about this. It didn't turn out the way I had intended at all... and I'm not sure how to go about fixing it. Let me know your thoughts and critiques, if any. Also, if there's something specific you'd like to see delved into, certain events or scenes, let me know. I'll see what I can do. Hope this isn't too bad and you enjoy it. Apologies for the long wait!

What's in a Word

It said a lot that Spencer's first word after so much trauma was Derek's name, or a portion of his name anyway; just as much could be said that no one was surprised. Whatever barrier had blocked the child's tongue had loosened with that one, small, mispronounced name. Afterward, names and words flowed out the thin-lipped mouth as is if he had never stopped speaking.

In the several months that Spencer had been living with the Morgan's, doctors and specialists alike had assessed him, until Spencer stopped cooperating with them. Everyday seemed to be a learning experience in dealing with the child, but the entire household adapted to the needed changes. Sometimes the kids made sacrifices willingly, other times they were made begrudgingly under a stern eye and a firm hand. Coping came easier with progression.

Physically, Spencer would always be on the thinner side, but his body was beginning to look healthy again with the Fran's home cooked meals and generous portions. His cheeks had a healthy, almost cherubic appearance, and his atrophied muscles filled out into a lean and lithe form. He was gaining on Derek in height, too.

All the reports that Fran and Hank were given stated that Spencer was bright, quite intelligent given his circumstances. Both parents were thrilled that their youngest would be able to reach his fullest potential, that there weren't any permanent injuries that would stand in his way. Unfortunately, Spencer realized his restricted for the time being and would often become angry, bordering on rebellious, when faced with said limitations. It frustrated him daily. He was passing milestones faster than expected, but nothing came quick enough in Spencer's opinion. He'd been locked away for half of his life, he was determined that nothing would ever hold him back again.

"Whoa. Slow down there, little man," Derek grabbed at his brother's shoulders, preventing him from crossing the street.

Spencer pulled at the grasp, grunting in protest. "Der, stop!"

Derek restrained the smaller boy, hugging him against his body, holding tight to the protesting upper limbs. "Chill out, Spencer. What's wrong?" He loosened his grip when the struggling form sagged in defeat.

"Nothing, I just want to get home." Spencer chewed at his lips and scratched at his left forearm.

Derek quirked a brow and gave the boy a once over. He reached out and pulled the offending hand away from his arm. "Then what's with the bad lips?" At Spencer's silence, he tried again, "Come on kid, you can tell me now, or let momma interrogate you when you get home, which is it going to be?"

Blonde hair fell to mask his face, lips pursed tight. His shoulders sagged low with a heavy sigh and he glanced through his bangs to glare at his brother. "I'm stupid, okay?" The defiant tone did little cover the misery.

"Who told you that," Derek demanded, eyes scrunched in anger.

"Nobody had to say it, I just know."

Derek's face softened at the pitiful self-loathing. "You're not stupid, far from it in fact. What makes you think that you're not smart?"

Spencer sighed and sat down on the schoolyard curb. "I hear the other kids whispering and giggling when I try to read out loud. The teachers look at me with pity when I have to ask how to say a word or what it means, such simple, stupid words. And the other kids get mad at me when I get math problems right, like I'm some sort of idiot freak."

"First off, don't ever let me hear you talk about yourself that way ever again, you got me?" At Spencer's timid nod, he continued. "Secondly, you can read just fine, you're just a little behind for obvious reasons. Screw those other kids. They've had a lot longer to practice and still aren't that far ahead. And if you want to go by those measures, then you're way smarter than them if they don't know how to do the advanced math you do."

"Math's just easy, Der. It is what it is and means what it says."

"There you go, proof that they are dumber than you. They can't understand something that should be easy." He stuck his tongue out at the younger boy, teasing, and ruffled his sandy locks. "Come on, let's get home and I'll help you practice reading if you want."

"Yeah, ok." He still seemed discouraged, but at least a little bit of light had returned to his eyes, and a hard-earned smile lit up his face.

The two boys set about making their way home, discussing what they were learning in school. Derek left out the bits where school was hard for him, not academically, but socially. All the kids seemed to be aware of the incident that had led Spencer to live with him, and they treated a bit like a freak, too.

When they entered their home, the wondrous scent of baked lemon chicken filled the air. Derek could swear there was an underlying trace of cinnamon apples, that usually mean that Fran had made a homemade apple pie. The older of the two licked his lips in anticipation. With the 'thunk' of the door closing behind them, Fran called out.

"Derek? Spencer? Is that you, babies?"

"Yes, Mrs- momma, we're home," Spencer answered, correcting himself with unease.

The amendment went ignored, it was an improvement from Mr. and Mrs. Morgan and Mr. Hank and Mrs. Fran. The exuberant woman hustled into the living room to greet her children, using a handcloth to dry her hands as she walked. She smiled at the boys and caressed their cheeks when she leant down to lay a kiss on each forehead. "Did you boys have a good day at school?"

Spencer shrugged his assent and lowered his head. Derek gave his mother a significant look and shook his head. "Yeah, momma, it was fine." He gave a pointed sniff and asked, "When's dinner?"

Fran laughed at her son's antics and swatted the side of his head with the towel in her hands. "As soon as you wash up and seat your hindquarters at the table, mister." She laughed again at the thunderous footsteps heading up the stairs to do her bidding. She called out once more, "Tell your sisters to clean up and come down, too."

Another click of the front door alerted Fran that her husband was home from work. He walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his head on her shoulder. He breathed in deeply before letting it out slowly, relaxing in their pseudo embrace. His breath caused a stray curl of hair to dance about her ear. "Long day, dear?"

"A bit, no more than usual. How about you?" He swayed them to a song only he could hear.

"Productive," she hummed in return as she snuggled closer into his larger frame. Four pairs of feet shuffling down the stair interrupted their quiet moment. Raised voices and the occasional knock against the wall broke them apart. Hank went to settle the kids while Fran moved dinner to the table. "Hank, you better have clean hands before you sit down at my table!"

Derek grinned cheekily at his father as he shoved his sister down the last stair, "Yeah, Pops, or no dinner for you." He stuck his tongue out before he launched into his father's waiting arms. "Momma made apple pie," he mumbled into Hank's neck, eyes closed and content. His father's chuckle reverberated through his entire being and his grin grew.

Hank set his son back down in front of a waiting Spencer and proceeded to hug the quiet boy to him, too. Spencer was reticent, but returned the embrace nonetheless. Afterward he pat both boys' heads and started up the stairs. "Go on to the table, now, before your momma gets after me. I'll be there in a minute."

At the table, after grace was said, food was passed around. Chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans filled each plate, and each party was given a slice of homemade bread. Chatter mixed with the heavenly scent, each child vying for attention. Even Spencer was eager to inform the parents of his advanced placement in math.

When the conversations tempered and the food no more than a game or art project on their plates, Fran took charge. "Tomorrow I have a meeting with all your teachers, is there anything I should know that you would rather tell me first?" At their silence, she nodded to herself. "Alright, then please clear the table and get ready for bed. Desiree, it's your turn to do the dishes."

In bed, tucked safe and warm beneath the comforter, Spencer stared up at the glowing stars on their bedroom ceiling. "Derek," he called to his brother softly.

"Wha'?" came the mumbled askance.

"Is momma going to be mad that I didn't tell her about not being able to read?"

There was a long pause and Spencer felt sure that Derek had fallen asleep. "Momma and pops already know you have trouble with letters and words, they aren't going to be mad. In fact, you'll probably be harassed to let them help you more," he sniggered.

A silent shudder ran down his spine and he giggled lightly. "I don't want them to help me. I just want to do it," he said. The silence took over again. "Derek, she asked though. She asked and I didn't say anything."

"Because it's nothing new. Pretty boy, listen, it's okay. She's not going to be upset; pops' isn't going to be upset. It's fine; you're fine."

Derek had been swept into a doze when the younger boy spoke up once more, "Der, I don't want to go back…" The slight hitch in his breathing, the tremble in his words, had Derek up and over at the other bed in an instant. He crawled up under the blankets and curled around his little brother, providing the only comfort he knew to give. He wasn't sure if there was a deeper meaning to Spencer's words or to just take them at face value, either way they would haunt for quite some time.

"It's going to be alright, little brother. You'll see."

A/N: Let me know your thoughts and critiques, if any. Also, if there's something specific you'd like to see delved into, certain events or scenes, let me know. I'll see what I can do.