Anote: I started thanking everyone who put this story on story alert but I stopped after ten. You guys make it all worthwhile. Thanks a bunch and hello to all the new people like 'addicted2fic; Kae Gates; Wizard of all Genres, breeners, Queen Narca and all a host of others'. Unfortunately I can't post everyday as I usually do, but I will try to do so everyday. New episode tonight!

Chapter 3-Foolishly optimistic

17 years ago

His appetite had come back with a vengeance as Spencer picked up his fourth slice of pizza and stuffed it into his mouth, much to Kate's dismay. All this worry for nothing, he thought, as he glanced at the framed artwork on the wall. Who would have thought a torn out page from a book would be worth so much?

'Are you sure I can get so much money for the parchment?' he asked again, 'that would cover the mortgage for a whole year!'

The dainty young woman picked up a napkin and wiped the tomato sauce from his cheek, 'I am sure and my uncle would give you a fair price for it. He's nutso for this sort of thing'

Spencer glanced again at the piece that looked down at their mini picnic on the carpet of what was once the study. It was reassuring to know that if his father decided to cut ties with all moral decency and not pay the mortgage, he and his mother wouldn't lose the house. The overlooked artwork was also small and portable and he could easily carry it around if he needed to have it appraised. Not that he would consider selling it unless it was absolutely necessary as it was one of the few objects, other than her precious books, that could stir his mother to any semblance of animation and normal conversation.

'I am really glad you came Kate' he added sincerely, picking up his fifth slice.

Her little nose wrinkled in horror as the bottomless pit aka her best friend Spence, shoveled another piece of pie into his mouth. It was so unfair that he had such an incredible metabolism and she dropped her slice unto his napkin in annoyance.

'Fanks' he said around a mouthful of pineapple.

The little girl drew some of his charts towards her and squinted at her classmate's horrendous handwriting. It took a minute for her to decipher the chicken scratch that past for penmanship in Spencer's book before she realized what she was looking at. The little boy had drawn up schedule after schedule for everything under the sun. He had a timetable for cleaning the house, he had one for his mum's exercise routine, and he even had one for the meals they would eat on what days, charting the progress of the leftovers. She put these aside and looked over the short lists of things to buy and the much longer ones of things that could be sold. It grieved her little heart that the boy had shouldered such responsibilities. Why the only thing she had to worry about when she was ten, was if shoes matched her purse when she went to church on Sunday.

Spencer took the list of things to be sold from her hand and studied it as he finished off his dinner with a burp.

'There are a lot of other antiques in the house' he commented contemplatively, pushing his glasses up his nose, 'can you take a look at them for me?'

She frowned and tried to bring the topic back to what they were discussing earlier, 'Why can't we call your mum's brother? You shouldn't have to be dealing with all this. That's what adults are for'

In some frustration the little boy crossed his arms across his thin chest and glared at her. She immediately copied the action and matched his frown.

How could he tell her that he was afraid that his uncle would take one look at the situation and cart his difficult mother off to the nearest hospital as his father always threatened to do? She wasn't that sick, he could manage it. And besides family should stick together, ALWAYS!

'I already said…' he sighed miserably, 'I have my reasons Kate, please?'

She reached over and scornfully pointed a finger at his mum's activity schedule, 'Do you really think you can make this work? Life doesn't work like that!'

And to illustrate her point the young woman grabbed a slice of pizza and smacked it, sauce side down on the nearest list.

'That's what happens, when you're not looking' she warned him as he yelped and immediately grabbed a fistful of napkins, trying to save his work.

'Being alive is unpredictable Spence, everything is all great and then bang your whole life changes in the blink of an eye.'

The compassionate boy reached over and squeezed her hand as she stared off into the distance. He just knew instinctively she was thinking about her parents who were gunned down by bad guys when she was a little girl.

Present day

'Reid' Morgan asked in some confusion as he looked down at the excel spread sheet in his hands, 'what's this?'

The young agent looked up from where he was neatly packing his underwear in the dresser provided, 'Oh it's a timetable of all the events and activities everyone wants to get done'

He looked over the dark profiler's shoulder pointing out the salient features.

'See that's you in grey, Garcia in pink and Em's in red' he elaborated for his bemused friend, 'and here in this column is the spa, swimming pool, the malls, the club and the concert'

If it was anyone else, Morgan would have already been discretely shuffling out the double occupancy suite but he wasn't alarmed. He knew from first hand experience that his friend's big brain was wired differently from the rest of most people.

'This is incredible' the man praised his colleague, 'when did you…?'

The young doctor cracked a pleased smile, 'On the plane, I couldn't sleep. I knew everyone wanted to do lots of different things so I thought I could give you some options as to how you can make it all work in a two day time frame'

'Where are you?' the man asked distractedly, already mentally booking himself for a massage before the gala dinner as Reid's nifty chart suggested.

Quickly the boy turned around to unpack his socks giving a mumbled answer as a response. From the corner of his eye, he watched gratefully as his colleague sank onto his bed, bald head fully immersed in the colour coded table. The genius profiler crumpled his favourite pair of striped socks in his long fingers, wondering if he wasn't being foolishly optimistic in unpacking his bags for the weekend.