A/N: Wow, passed 100 reviews! I love you all. This chapter brings special thank you's, to Ladywolf, my partner in crime and chief cheerleader, and to Gryphon and Joannie M. who served as sounding boards and advisers while I flailed about the scene below. Shortish, but I promise another update around Thursday so stay tuned.

Chapter 9- Temper, Temper…

The next two hours yielded practically nothing, and were interrupted by ducking out of sight and trying to eavesdrop when the cops questioned people. By one pm they were all thirsty, hungry and starting to get cranky, and Garcia decided they needed a break and some lunch before moving on to the police station. She called Rossi and asked him to meet them at the diner they'd gone to the previous day. Prentiss was still sullen and distant, and Hotch and Morgan were glaring at each other with barely suppressed fury, having exchanged snipes and barbs since leaving the library. She wanted to separate them, and there was only one of her to do it, and she had to keep an eye on the younger ones as well, as they were both looking a little freaked out by all the high emotion going around. As they parked by the diner, the van emptied in record time.

"You know, I thought the phrase 'tension thick enough to cut with a knife' was a metaphor." Reid whispered to JJ. The two pre-teens stuck closer to each, both worried about their teammates, but neither one sure of how to diffuse the tension. JJ nodded, her lips pressed together in a mix of irritation and worry.

"I know. I can almost taste the testosterone off those two."

"Think they'll fight for Emily?" That was almost funny, if it wasn't such a worrying reality.

"I'm not sure. I think whichever of them thinks he's won her at the end of the process might have a painful realization waiting, when she explains she doesn't want to be won." Somehow JJ thought that Emily wouldn't want to mess around with anybody right now, teen hormones notwithstanding, and especially not her teammates. "Remember we still have to work together when this is all over. The fraternization rules still apply."

"Yeah, I guess they do." In any case, Reid couldn't see how this would end any way but badly. "You ok?"

"Yeah, I think. Low-level freakout. I still haven't called Will." It had slipped her mind in the morning, a coping mechanism she recognized from her childhood; when she really didn't want to do something it was all too easy to just forget it. She'd have to eventually, though, especially if they were going to be stuck like this for a week or more.

"After lunch?" Reid suggested quietly.

"Yeah, maybe."

"I'm going to the bathroom." Garcia announced. "You guys go find a table, ok? Remember Rossi's about to join us so a table for seven. Anybody else needs a bathroom break?"

"I'll come with." Emily joined her, and they quickly disappeared around a corner.

There was an almost open hostility between Hotch and Morgan now, although neither one of them was entirely sure why they were so furious. Both thought it was entirely justifiable, of course, but the level of emotion was one both of them hadn't encountered very often or personally as adults. Hotch was angry that his authority was being undermined, angry with Emily for brushing them all off, with Morgan for interfering, and most of all with himself, because he could feel the last of his control slipping. The fear that he wouldn't be able to hold on to his temper wasn't improving it any, in a vicious loop of mingled guilt and rage. He wasn't concentrating, that was his only defense for what happened next, when Morgan stopped suddenly and they collided painfully. Morgan spun on him, almost snarling. "Watch where you're going, dumbass!"

"Watch when you stop without warning, you idiot." Hotch shoved his shoulder, intending it to be light but exerting more force than he'd planned. "And watch your tone with me, you got that?"

"Oh yeah?" Morgan pushed him back, as he'd promised before, and considerably harder. Hotch slammed into a parked car. "Watcha gonna do about it? Why the hell should I watch anything with you, you aren't any better than me." All his childhood Morgan had had to deal with uppity white boys thinking they deserved the world, or older gang kids who got first cut of everything. Even out of the gang, in high school, he'd had to fight for everything. Looked like he'd have to do that here, as well. If he'd been thinking at all rationally, he'd have realized that his place on the team was entirely secure, but like Hotch, he really wasn't.

Hotch didn't bother to answer, he pushed off from the car and launched himself at Morgan, driving both of them to the ground hard enough that they both paused for a second, breathless. JJ tried to drag Hotch off, but couldn't really move him and he jerked out of her grip on her shoulder. Reid tugged her away as Hotch landed the first punch, and the two older boys were hitting, kicking and scratching for all they were worth.

"Don't go near them. You'll only get hurt." Reid held JJ back. Getting in the crossfire between two angry boys who were bigger than both of them was too much of a risk. "Go get Garcia and Em."

"I can't- they'll kill each other!" Morgan was a little stronger than Hotch, it looked like, but he was sloppy, with none of his adult precision and grace in hand-to-hand. Hotch, though not really an athlete, had started taking self defense classes as soon as his after school job could pay for them, so even with the muscle memory of a teenager he had a few moves he was sure of. Still, their flailing fists got a few mutual hits in. And Garcia was nowhere to be seen, and Rossi wasn't there yet…"I have to do something fast." The truth was JJ was as scared of going off by herself to find Garcia as she was of staying. "Wait. Um. Cover your ears."

As Reid covered his ears, he had to admit it wasn't a bad plan. There was one thing he was almost sure would stop both Hotch and Morgan in their tracks. He looked around the parking lot, fortunately empty, and JJ opened her mouth and screamed as loudly as she could. It was a good bet- Hotch had Morgan in a choke hold, but they both froze at the noise. JJ paused for only long enough to take a breath, and screamed again. She was just preparing for another howl when the sound of screeching tires stopped her mid-breath, making her cough instead as the scream turned into a squeak.

"What the hell is going on here?" Dave Rossi got out of the car and stood just behind JJ and Reid, looking furious and larger than any of them remembered him being and downright terrifying. Hotch dropped Morgan like a hot potato and the younger boy dropped to the ground, coughing and gasping. "You know what- don't bother explaining. Hotch, get in the car. Morgan, get in the other car. Now."

Reid, watching from the sidelines, was pretty sure that Hotch was a classic study in fight-flight-freeze response options. The fight had gone out of him, and he was frozen, his eyes darting one way and another, clearly too scared to move anywhere. Morgan picked himself up, wiped blood off his face and slunk into one of the vans. "Hotch. Move." Rossi's voice, softer now, finally released Hotch from the dilemma and he was inside the other car so quickly that it was surprising he hadn't caught his fingers in the door.

Garcia and Emily arrived at a dead run. "What happened? I was only gone for five minutes!" Garcia's voice was high and panicky. "JJ, are you hurt? I heard screaming."

"I needed them to stop." JJ's voice wavered slightly and she cleared her throat. "Ow. Too loud, maybe. I knew a girl in distress would make them stop and pay attention. If you hadn't arrived I'd have…kicked them, I think. Hard."

"I didn't see exactly what happened. They bumped into each other, and…It's been brewing all day." Reid tried to explain.

"It's been brewing for the past few years." Prentiss corrected him, looking first at one car and then at another. "They're just impulsive enough to finally go for it, and they have an excuse."

"Unfortunately, I can't even disagree with that assessment." Rossi sighed. "Great. Penelope, would you go make sure Morgan doesn't need stitches? I'll talk to Hotch."

"Dave- with all due respect, you shouldn't." JJ stopped him. He gave her a questioning look and saw Reid nodding quietly behind her.

"Why not? Look at him-" They could all see Hotch curled up on the back seat, arms around his knees, shoulders hunched as if waiting for a blow. "I want to make sure he's not hurt."

"Not as badly hurt as Morgan is." Reid studied him for a moment. The fight had somehow made it easier to see things as an adult would, because it was an emergency of sort and he's always been pretty mature in an emergency. Apparently he did his best work in times of extreme terror as a child, too. "Did you see his face when you arrived? He was scared. Really scared. It should be someone as non-threatening as possible." He didn't like profiling his team leader, but in this case it was for his own good, really. "Either JJ or me."

"I'll go." JJ touched his arm lightly, and he smiled at her. It made more sense- she wasn't afraid of Hotch, as an adult or a child, and he'd always been a little closer to her anyway.

"I was hoping you'd say that."

Rossi cleared his throat. "If you're done being independent-minded…It's a bad idea."

"I think they're right, Dave." Prentiss added her vote, not that the team was a democracy, but the agreement of three profilers, no matter how immature they were now, did have some weight.

"Fine, go. But be careful." It wasn't that Rossi thought for a second that Hotch might hurt JJ, but he didn't know what he might do, if he felt cornered. "Garcia?"

"Already gone, good sir." Garcia made a beeline for the other van. Reid followed her, staying by the van's door as if standing guard. Rossi leaned against another car, the one that'd started the whole thing, and massaged his temples to diffuse a headache.

"So, did anything interesting happen at the college?"

Emily pulled out her phone and checked for new texts. "Nope, not really. We'll tell you over lunch."

Hotch was well on the way to an anxiety attack when he heard the car door open and close. That was it, the one thing he'd never done to anybody on his side, and rarely enough to anybody else. The last time he'd been justified, and even so he'd almost lost his job over it. And now…The fears of the adult who'd lost control of the temper he'd been fighting his whole life mingled with and amplified the terror of a boy who knew his father would be furious, that this time there'd be a price to pay he wouldn't be able to run fast enough to avoid. When something touched his arm he tried to bat it away, refusing to go down without defending himself.

"Ow." That wasn't his father's voice. Or Rossi's. Hotch looked up, frowning but momentarily distracted from breathing too quickly. JJ rubbed her arm. "Careful. It's not that big a back seat."

"What are you doing here?" They wouldn't have sent JJ in to tell him they were all going back to DC, would they have? She was just a kid now. "Are you ok? You screamed, earlier."

"Yeah, I needed to distract you." She shrugged. "I'm ok. Nothing that an ice cream won't cure. How about you? You're going to have a real nice shiner tomorrow." Now that Hotch thought about it, his ribs hurt from a well-placed kick, and he could feel sore patches on his shoulders and face. He grimaced.

"Doesn't matter."

"Of course it does." She glared at him, but somehow from her the look wasn't as worrying. "Look at yourself- you're a mess. And you're bleeding." He had tasted blood before, but ignored it. "Your teeth still all there?"

"Yeah. Yeah. I- I think Morgan was better with knives than with his hands as a kid." Now that the adrenaline rush from the fight was gone, he started feeling a little sick.

"Then you're damned lucky he didn't have a knife." JJ actually punched his arm, but not very hard. He backed away from her. "Hotch…"

"What? What do you have to say, JJ? That I screwed up? I know that. Is- is Morgan ok?" He tried to sound normal, but couldn't speak above a choked whisper.

"He was walking, and I don't think he broke anything. Bruises and a nasty cut to his cheek, from what I could see." JJ scooted closer to him. "You didn't screw up."

"I beat up one of my agents." His voice was flat, and near inaudible.

"Yeah, and he gave back almost as good as he got. You both have mitigating circumstances. Somehow I don't think he'll want to file a complaint about you." Keeping it in nice, professional terms seemed to be calming him, so JJ kept the conversation there, even though she knew they'd need to discuss some other things before she was sure he could come out of the car. And before, she thought, he'd be willing to come out. "It happens, Hotch. You got angry. So did he. It wasn't right, and it wasn't what you shoulda done, but it's not the end of the world."

"The end of us working the case. Of me working it, at least." He wouldn't look at her. She reached up and tugged on his hair, and he finally gave a her a reluctant, sullen look. "Watch it. I'm dangerous, remember?"

"No you're not." She grinned at him, and it was incredibly hard not to smile back. "You won't touch me, I'm too cute and not afraid to use it."

"I believe you." He took a deep breath, and another, feeling his heart rate finally settle a little. "Nice job with the scream, by the way."

"Thanks." A girl has to use what weapons she has, right? "You're coming with me to have lunch, right?"

"Are you kidding? I'm lucky if R-" He choked, remembering the fury on his friend's face. He swallowed hard. "If I don't get dumped on the next flight to DC with my name on a sign around my neck."

"Rossi'll understand, Hotch." Again she stroked his arm, tracing a scratch mark carefully. "You need to get that cleaned."

"What will he understand? That he doesn't deserve this burden? That he didn't sign up to play guardian to screwed up kids? He- He was-" He couldn't say it. Not even to JJ.

"He wasn't as angry as he looked." Hotch's anger didn't scare JJ, not for herself, but for him, and for the amount of fear and anger he was obviously bottling up. She wondered how much of it was the adult stresses, exploding without the adult control he usually exerted, and how much he'd already carried around with him as a teen. "Remember that I told you about falling out of a tree when I was eight?"

"Yeah…?"

"Well, my mom and dad were furious with me, I think my dad yelled all the way to the ER, and I was a lot more afraid of that than I'd been of falling off a branch. And when he realized half my crying was over that, he stopped, and apologized, and explained he was just really scared that I'd hurt myself badly, and that I could've been so reckless because they'd warned me about trees already." She explained. "It was- it was worse after my sister died. Like anything even remotely dangerous that I did terrified them. They didn't want to lose me as well. I think Rossi was just scared."

"That was scared? JJ, that was angry. Really angry." And it had terrified Hotch. The one or two times he'd gotten caught or gotten into trouble, there'd been support in front of the school authorities, sure, because appearances had to be kept up, but at home there'd been hell to pay. "He'll send me back." Actually, that was about the best case scenario, as Hotch saw it.

"He won't. And he won't do anything else, either. First of all, I won't let him." She crossed her arms and looked so fierce that Hotch had to smile, at least a little, and felt his shoulders relax a little. "And second, Morgan was just as much to blame and I think you've both paid enough, right? I mean, he might lecture, and he may never let you live it down when we're grown-ups again, but the worst he can do is ground you, and he won't, because he wants to solve this case just as much as we do, and we need you."

He stared at her, put off-balance (again) by this insight. "How are you the most mature of us all?"

"No puberty hormones yet." She shrugged. "And my parents loved me. A lot. Even after…You know. I was never afraid of them." She was honest with him about herself, and even more so extremely blunt about him and her knowledge of what haunted him. He closed his eyes tightly and she crawled over him and threw her arms around his neck, more or less forcing him to hug her back. "We're your family now, and we do love you." It was so simple, really. And love was a lot less complicated when you saw it from an eleven year old perspective. "Rossi'd never ever do anything you're afraid he'd do. At worst, he'll lecture."

"Oh, he'll lecture me about this until Jack graduates high school." And if the chuckle that accompanied those words was a little shaky, JJ tactfully didn't notice.

'Then you might as well come out, clean up, eat lunch and let him start. We have a killer to catch." She tightened her hold on him. "Right?"

"Right." He kissed the top of her head, not sure where the gesture came from but it felt right. "Why is everybody into hugging suddenly?"

"The question is why did we ever stop being into it, Hotch." She looked up at him, her eyes twinkling. "Why, who else has been hugging you?"

"Never mind." He disengaged from her gently. "We should go before the others start thinking I've eaten you or something."

"I'm starved." She agreed. "You gonna be ok, Hotch?"

He took a deep breath. He could do this. Maybe. "Maybe. When we catch this guy and get back to normal, I'll be ok."

"Fair enough." Since she felt pretty much the same, she couldn't ask him to feel any different. "Man, Rossi won't let any of us out of his sight now, right?"

"Probably not. Sorry."

"Sucks. Oh well." She bounced away. "Maybe we'll convince him Reid and I are traumatized enough by the big kids fighting that we all need Sundaes to recover."

Miserable as he still was, Hotch couldn't help laughing.

In the other car, Garcia settled down next to Morgan, who was holding a leftover napkin from yesterday's lunch to his face. "Babycakes?"

"Go away, Penelope." He sounded rough and tired.

"I will, as soon as I'm sure you don't have any broken bones and that you don't need stitches on anything." She didn't touch him, too-aware of the barely held guarded expression and the way he was sitting. "Then I'll leave you alone to angst, if you prefer."

"I'm not 'angsting'." Morgan spoke through gritted teeth. He was hurt, and furious with Hotch and almost as much so with himself. He couldn't believe things had gone as far as they had, or that Hotch had been as- as damned good at it, if he had to be honest with himself. How the hell had they exploded like that? Now, in the aftermath of the red-hot anger, he was feeling more balanced, more adult than he had since at least the previous morning, and couldn't believe his own lack of control. "Shit."

"Language, Derek." But her voice was gentle. "Let me see your face. And why are you holding your hand like that?" Morgan had his left hand cradled to his chest, holding it as still as possible.

"Wrenched it somehow. It's not broken- I think." It hurt enough that he wasn't sure, but he could move it a little and it's not swelling yet, so he guessed it was probably just a bad sprain. His knuckles were skinned from contact with either the sidewalk or Hotch's face or probably both.

"Ok. Now let me see your face." What Garcia really wanted to do was make sure Morgan was alright, then do the same for Hotch, then yell at them both for a day and a half for scaring her like that, but she couldn't. They needed a responsible adult, so that's what she'd be- if she fell apart or gave in to the flood of yelling she was holding back with an effort, what sort of example would she be giving? They needed support, not panic. Besides, Morgan was talking, and not in any real danger. Just banged up. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and held her hands at her temples, muttering a calming mantra a few times. When she opened her eyes, Morgan was looking at her funny.

"What are you doing?"

"Calming myself." She explained. "Because I just saw two of the people I respect most in the world in a knock-down, drag-out fight, and it scared the hell outta me, but I need to be the responsible one because the rest of you clearly aren't anymore, so I took a moment to collect myself."

"I don't need a responsible adult. You can go." That hurt, actually. Mainly because she had a point, and he hated anything that damaged Garcia's cheery outlook- especially when it was himself. She scowled at him and pulled his good hand away from his face.

"I'll go when I'm satisfied, cutie." The cut wasn't as bad as it'd looked at first, just bled like crazy, as facial injuries tended to do. "We'll need to get that cleaned up, but I think you can do without stitches. At worst you'll have an interesting new scar to use as a conversation piece. Or, you know, if you're lucky it'll just disappear when you go back to your older body." She tried to sound cheerful and wasn't sure just how successful she was. "Now, talk to me. What just happened out there?"

"Nothing." He shrugged, as closed off as she'd ever seen him.

"Uh huh. And?"

"And what? We fought, that's all there was to it." He glared at her, his scowl pulling at the forming bruises he could already feel rising. Damn, they were going to put on a hell of a show for the local cops, if Rossi didn't send them both back home on the next flight. He sighed. "Not responsible adults anymore, huh? Well, it's pretty good proof of it, I guess."

"Pretty much." She patted his good arm. "Who started it?"

"He did." Of course Hotch had started it- and if he hadn't, Morgan wasn't sure he'd have admitted it. "He threw the first punch."

"What did you do to provoke him, though? You've been sniping at him all morning, dissing him every chance you get." She pointed out. "I'm not saying he has any justification- not any more than you do, and you both have some justification, because you're both crazy-stressed- but you're no angel, angel."

He snorted. "He thought he's still the boss of me. Rossi's in charge now, I had to show him he ain't better than me."

"Hate to point it out, babe, but you were totally about to lose that fight."

"Who's side are you on, Garcia?" The scowl was becoming a permanent fixture on his face.

"There are no sides, honey. We're all on the same side, and the same team, remember?" She pushed his shoulder gently. "So I can be on your side and on Hotch's too. Like a Möbius strip."

"Philosophical, really." He looked down. "I can't believe we just had an all-out brawl. God. I didn't even do that sort of thing when I was really fourteen, you know? Well, never one on one, anyway." He'd been in fights before, but they were always of groups facing each other, or at worst two or three or more against one. Or against a single unsub, but he usually had a gun for those. He dabbed at his cheek again and hissed. "I'm sort of glad I never got into it with Hotch as an adult. Man's vicious."

"Not as an adult. Not really. Well, not to us, anyway." She imagined as a prosecutor people'd pretty much hated him, if they got on the wrong side of the stand from him. "I sort of think he was a very angry teenager. Which is part of what made it so scary, by the way. You're both pretty different from you adult selves. I pity your mothers, frankly, if you were that angry as kids." She meant it as a joke, but the comment hit a bit too close to home for Morgan.

"My mother didn't know why I was angry." He looked away again and Garcia winced, mentally kicking herself.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to- uh-" She'd been trying so hard not to bring any of that up, and it was throwing her completely off her game.

"I don't need any help remembering it, Penelope. Especially now." Because he had been angry, in an understated sort of way, as a teen. Happy that he was finally getting his life on track, but still angry, because he'd given up more than anyone should have to, for that second chance, and because no one had noticed. Never, not once, had anybody asked him what was up. Nobody'd ever suspected. "Damnit." He aimed a punch at the window and Garcia caught his wrist- his bad one, since he'd idiotically tried to strike out with that hand, and he yelped in pain.

"Derek Morgan, you can be a real idiot, for a smart man." Garcia let his hand go, apologetic but annoyed with him. "Do you want to turn a sprain into a break, babycakes? Because we can't really afford a trip to the ER even if I can whip you up a new identity and some insurance in twenty minutes."

"No." He sulked. His hand friggin' hurt. "I'm sorry."

"Don't tell me, sweetie. Tell yourself, and then tell Hotch." He glowered at the suggestion and she held up a hand. "Not right now. Later, when you've both cooled down some. Possibly after he's apologized first."

"On the plane back home, you mean? Might be a good idea to wait until we have limited space and seatbelts keeping us down."

"De-rek, you sound like a pouty teenager. Snap out of it, will you? At least for long enough to prove to Rossi you and Hotch can be mature about each other and still work this case. You're good enough actors to fool him, right?" She winked at him and he snorted. "You do want to go back home and be yourself again, right?" He was usually a lot easier to deal with. Then again, he was usually a lot closer to forty.

"Yes." What he really wanted was a brace for his wrist, a few band aids and some sympathy, but it looked like he was going to have to wait for all three. "They'll all stare at me. I can't believe I did something that stupid." He smiled bitterly. "Can't believe Hotch did, either."

"But it happened to both of you, and you both did it. So that means you both need to apologize, and that if Rossi's angry, he's angry with both of you equally." The logic was inescapable.

"He should apologize first." If it hadn't been too painful, Morgan would've crossed his arms.

"Why?"

"Because he's in charge, he shouldn't have jumped me like that!" It'd been an unfair attack, an abuse of power, a-

"So you agree he's still in charge?" The question caught him unprepared, and his mouth dropped open. "No double standard, Derek-boy. If you hold him to a higher standard as team leader, shouldn't you hold yourself accountable to him, as well? And if he isn't in charge of you, there's no reason he should apologize first, if you provoked him." Again, the inescapable logic, except he didn't really care about logic. Morgan groaned.

"Penelope, I'm too wired, sore and cranky to be reasonable about this."

"About time you admitted that." She was no profiler, was Garcia, but she knew her team inside and out. "I'm gonna squish you for a moment, tell me if I hit anything that hurts too much."

The hug did actually hurt, as it revealed new sore places around Morgan's shoulders and ribs, but he honestly didn't notice it, for a long moment. After about a minute he did start to, though, and pulled away. "Thanks, baby girl."

"Anytime, sweetheart. Promise me you'll try to tone down the macho top puppy thing? Neither one of you's old enough to be top dog anyway, right now." He'd gotten blood on her shirt, but she didn't care. They'd need to swing by the hotel anyway before they were presentable again.

"Yeah. I'll try." He just hoped he'd actually manage it, too. "Do I have to come out of the car?"

"We could just stay in here and I'll take you back to the hotel to change and clean up." She suggested, but they would need to leave the safety of the car for a moment to explain. "You'll scare people in the diner if you go in looking like you're back from a war."

"True…But I need to make sure Rossi's not too pissed off about this. Otherwise I might as well go back to the hotel and pack, anyway." He was reasonably sure that Rossi wouldn't send them away, as they were still mid-case. "God…Is it really only lunchtime? I'm wiped."

"You'll get your second wind after lunch." Garcia promised him. "Come on, let's get this over with."