AUTHOR'S NOTE: As promised, here is the next chapter. To be honest, this story started out as a case-fic, but I think it has become more a tale about the dynamics of the group - the family ties between the team and how they work, dysfunctional and all. I hope you enjoy and thank you for all the kinds words- they mean the world to me.


"So," Emily Prentiss started after almost fifteen minutes of driving. "What do you think is wrong with him?"

Derek Morgan turned his head just a bit, his dark eyes sweeping across her face briefly before returning to the crowded highway in front of him. The radio had said that there was an accident about two exits up. It sounded like a simple fender-bender, but smack in the middle of lunch traffic, it'd snarled things up pretty bad.

"Reid?" he asked, his voice even and controlled, not giving away too much.

She nodded, her eyes locked on his carefully schooled expression. He was holding it together and that told her more than she figured his words would. He was at the very least worried about the young genius, but she wondered if scared might be a better word.

"I think…" Morgan began before pausing to consider his words. Then, "I think he probably needs help. And I think we should have all seen it a long time ago."

"Like with JJ."

"Yes, but JJ's different. She has her own issues but I think they have more to do with this being the first time she's ever had to deal with all of this. Reid's had the nightmares before, she hasn't. Up until Georgia, her contact with the actual crimescenes was pretty limited. She saw almost everything through pictures and reports. She'd learned how to separate herself. But seeing what she did there, it's new and it's horrible and she doesn't know how to cope. And what's worse, she's too proud to ask for help. I think she thinks if she does, we'll think she's weak or something."

"You don't think Reid's too proud?" Emily asked, eyebrow up.

"If it were only nightmares? No, he's asked me about them before." He chuckled just a bit, as if remembering a bit of the past. "He was kinda pissed at the time that I sicced Gideon on him, but it's the job. We all get them and if we're going to make it, we have to learn to deal with them,"

She nodded slowly, not bothering to tell him that she was still having a devil of a time dealing with her own nightmares. The only thing that was helping was the fact that she'd seen a lot of horrible things even before the BAU. Things she would move heaven and hell not to talk about it.

She figured those things, those experiences, well maybe they were what – as she'd told JJ and Hotch - helped her to compartmentalize better than most. In short, those previous nightmares were what helped her cope.

As best she could anyway. Because the dreams were still there.

A woman torn to shreds by rabid dogs.

A young boy lying dead in the street.

A girl who would never hug her father goodnight again because some sick bastard had turned her hopes and dreams into a way to lure her a horrific death.

The dreams weren't going away anytime soon.

But she could deal.

Better than JJ and Reid anyway.

"So, you don't think nightmares are his problem?"

"No," Morgan said simply as her jerked the SUV into the next lane. The traffic was near to maddening and she could see Morgan, always impatient, tensing up, his hands tightening on the steering wheel.

She wondered whether it was the traffic or the conversation, which was upsetting him more.

She waited a few seconds for him to speak again and was just about to ask him another question to push the conversation forward when he said softly, "When I was in college, I had a good friend, one of the best guys I've ever known in my life. Kind of a joker, but always there to listen. Didn't matter what about. He could make you feel better. That was his gift."

He stopped, stared out at the traffic. Emily knew enough to wait. Knew that the rest of the story was coming. Knew instinctively that it probably didn't have a good end.

"We played ball together. He was a receiver. Off the field one of my best friends, on the field, my favorite go-to guy. He was automatic. Then one night, I throw to him and as he's coming down with the ball, he gets nailed. I swear, I heard the sound of his shoulder crack. Everyone there did. And he's lying on the field screaming."

She watched as Morgan absently dropped a hand down to his knee and rubbed gingerly at it. She knew that he'd stopped playing because of a football injury and she wondered if this story wasn't bringing more than one set of bad memories back to the surface.

"He fractured his shoulder and broke his arm in three places. Had to have screws put in. He tried for rehab at first but it was a no go - his football career was pretty much over. After that, he changed. He started using anything he could, drinking until he passed out. He blamed it on the pain and maybe that was part of it, but I think what had happened to him, he just couldn't…he couldn't understand. He couldn't make sense of it. He hadn't done anything to deserve it and yet this horrible thing had happened to him. After that, I think he just didn't see any reason to care anymore. He died during my senior year. One night he just took too much. Probably never knew what hit him."

He fell silent, eyes on the road again. Traffic was starting to thin a bit, perhaps just enough to get to one of the exits and make the rest of the trek via side streets.

"So, you think Reid is using something?"

He turned to look at her and she saw a dullness there. Maybe even a sadness. But then, quietly, "I don't know, but I do think he's falling apart. I think, like my buddy from school, he's wondering why him."

"I've wondered that, too," Emily admitted, glancing down at her hands. "Of all of us, why did it have to be those two that had to go through that?"

"Because life isn't fair," Morgan replied as he pulled the SUV off the highway. "If it were, we wouldn't have a job."

And it was just that simple.

And painfully still.

Still, not willing to let it be that simple, she pushed on, "So what do we do?"

He sighed and she could hear the frustration in the sound. Not at her, but at the hopelessness and helplessness of the situation. It was damnable. "I don't know. It's not like we have any proof."

"Really?" Emily countered. "Tell me you haven't noticed how his moods seem to turn on a dime these days. One moment he's on edge and snappy, like he can't focus. The next, usually after he's disappeared…"

She stopped and the realization of how everything had been right in front of her face the entire time…well it hit her hard.

Too hard.

"Yeah," Morgan said softly. "I'd noticed."

"Then we need to speak to Gideon."

"He's noticed, too."

"So why haven't we done anything?" she asked, her voice rising just a bit.

"For the same reason all of us have been leaving JJ alone. We've all known what's been fucking her up. We all know she isn't sleeping. We all know she's off her game. And we even know how to help her. But because none of us want to let anyone in, we don't intrude. That's the way it works. If she comes to us, we'll help. If he comes to us…"

"You felt that way about Chicago. Like it was none of our business."

He nodded and looked away. Like he knew that holding back from these people was madness. And so once again, seeking an opening, Emily pushed on.

"And what if he doesn't ever come to us? What if he's high one day and someone has a gun to your back and he doesn't fire when he should?"

She saw him open his mouth, as if to instinctively defend his friend, but then, "I know."

"And what if one day, he takes too much."

Again, "I know."

"Are you telling me that Hotch knows but won't do anything?" Emily asked with a hint of disbelief. Hotch hardly seemed the type to let the rest of his people or the job be endangered just because of stupid group pride.

"I think he wants to be sure because once he opens that door, the ramifications and not just for Reid, but for all of us…well there are people at the Bureau who have never exactly been fond of some of the people on this team. Outing Reid, it could have consequences."

"That makes it sound so political," Emily noted, with just a hint of dismay. She'd thought better of Hotch, thought it to be like a parent to the team. Which meant that he had to know that sometimes – regardless of the ramifications – hard decisions had to be made.

Then she scolded herself. For making it sound so easy. For thinking like a heartless and soul-less bureaucrat.

All of her friends – most of them living in other countries and corresponding via only email these days – had figured that the crimes would be the hardest part of being in the BAU. Seeing the evil that men could do.

The truth, however? It had been the people that had taken some getting used to. She'd been part of teams before but never one like this.

Never one that felt so much like family.

And despite the rather estranged family that she had, the one thing Emily knew about family was that the bonds of such always made the decisions that seemed so easy so much harder.

If Hotch outted Reid, his career could be destroyed.

He'd be allowed to stay on with the FBI – after all, it was near impossible to fire a government worker for anything less than cold blooded murder committed in front of thirty people – but it would likely be a permanent stain. And it could mean the end of Reid's days with the BAU.

Which would likely – for Reid – be just as bad as getting fired.

"We're here." Morgan said suddenly and she realized with a start that they'd driven almost ten minutes in silence. She heard the sound of the SUV parking and then he turned to look at her. "You okay?"

She smiled, perhaps a bit too big.

"You okay?" Derek Morgan asked his partner. The silence that had filled the vehicle after he'd told her that Hotch knew about Reid, well it had been deafening.

Because he'd known what she'd been thinking.

He'd been thinking the same thing.

Why the hell aren't we doing something?

But the reality was that they didn't really know. Not for sure anyway. They suspected and the signs were all there, but that just wasn't enough.

Not to do this to Reid.

And more important, who was he to be forcing anyone to out their demons? He'd been furious when the team had essentially done that to him. Yes, it had been to save him.

But still.

Still.

It just all seemed so absurd.

Emily smiled back at him as if to say that yes, she was fine. Unfortunately, all of his years in diplomacy had never taught her how to create a convincing "lie face". And some of her smiles, well they rather looked like grimaces instead.

"Maria DeSparto," Derek said then, quickly moving on, happy to have something to think about besides Reid. "Stay at home mother." He showed her a family picture, one that included Maria with her husband Alvarez and their eight children. The oldest was in his twenties and the youngest – a small pretty girl with large brown eyes – looked to be around three or so.

Emily nodded and then opened the door and got out of the car. Morgan did the same, coming around to join her in front of the house.

"The file said that Mrs. DeSparto only speaks Spanish."

"Don't worry," she replied. "Mine is excellent."

"Good because I think after three years of it in college, I know a handful of words, but none that would be useful today."

She snorted and then started towards the front door of a two-story house with a massive lawn in front of it. There were toys everywhere, a hastily discarded skateboard on it's back, showing off Tony Hawk stickers on it's belly.

Morgan stepped forward and knocked on the door. A few seconds passed and then the door opened to reveal a pretty girl of about eighteen.

"Yes?"

"Uh, hi, we're with the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI. Morgan and Prentiss," he said, indicating towards Emily. "We were hoping we could speak to your mother."

"I'm sorry," the girl said. "My mother is in no state to speak to anyone."

Morgan glanced over at Emily, suddenly wishing that he'd gotten to bring JJ with him instead. Not because Emily wasn't damn good at what she did, but rather because dealing with grief was not something that he was good at him.

Because it meant going deep inside himself and finding that place that knew where the victims were coming from.

It meant remembering the pain of losing his father.

Over and over again.

JJ was good at that.

He, well not so much.

"Perhaps you can help us," Emily said, breaking him from his thoughts.

The girl seemed shocked for a moment, but then she nodded. "I can try."

"Good," Derek smiled. He hated to admit it but he knew that his charm was his strongest weapon in these situations. He knew that he possessed a gift, the ability to put people at ease even in the worst of situations.

Seemed as good a time as any to break out that gift.

The girl stepped aside and let them in. As soon as they were past the threshold, she closed the door behind them.

"What's your name?" Emily asked as Morgan turned and took in the house, noting how chaotic it was.

Which, considering the amount of kids who lived here, was to be expected.

"Isabella," the girl said with a smile. "Can I get you something to drink."

"No, thank you," Morgan replied. Emily nodded the same. Isabella accepted this and led them into the living room.

As they entered, the saw a six-year-old boy with messy hair. He was watching a cartoon, giggling at it. "This is Peter," Isabella said with an affectionate grin. "Everything is funny to him. Papa called him our little crazy man."

As if on cue, Peter looked up and laughed. "Hiya!"

"Hi," Morgan replied, unable to stop the smile from overtaking his face.

"Peter, why don't you come upstairs and play for a bit, huh?"

"I am playing," he replied.

She laughed. "Upstairs."

He scowled, then jumped off the couch. Then, the smile returning to his face, he waved at Morgan and Prentiss and took off up the stairs.

"Papa was right to call him our little crazy man," Isabella sighed. Then she motioned for everyone to sit. "How can I help?"

"Do you live here?" Morgan asked.

"No, I'm in school. My older brother and I are both living on campus. Georgetown for both of us. After what happened to Papa, I came home to help out. Al, my brother, will be coming home after his finals."

"Georgetown, good school," Emily noted.

Isabella beamed, "We both got in on scholarships. Papa was very strict about studies, always pushed us to be the best…" she stopped for a moment to swallow back the emotion. "To be the best we could be."

"I'm sure he was very proud," Emily said.

Isabella nodded. "I believe that."

"Forgive me for mentioning this but the file we have says that neither of your parents spoke any English," Morgan commented.

Again she smiled. "That file is wrong. Papa taught himself and then us. All of us are bi-lingual. Mama's English isn't so good, but she can speak it when she needs to."

"Do you know," Emily started and now she faltered and Morgan knew why. What she had to ask, well it seemed a terrible question to put to someone who was grieving the loss of a father they so obviously adored. "Do you know if your parents were having any problems?"

"No," Isabella said instantly. "Nothing more than normal, I mean. They argued because Papa worked too hard, but they were happy. Their twenty-fifth anniversary was going to be in June."

"Did you know any of your father's friends?"

"No," she replied.

"They were good men," a voice said from the stairs. Morgan and Prentiss turned to face a smallish woman with big eyes. She had to be in late forties, but right now, the exhaustion and pain that she was wearing like a mask made her look a whole lot older.

"Mama," Isabella said, slipping immediately into Spanish. "You should be upstairs sleeping."

Morgan glanced over to Prentiss. Thankfully, even though his ability to speak the language was limited to frat boy insults, he could understand it just fine. No, this was more about studying the family interaction.

Trying to determine if they were hiding anything.

"I've slept enough," Maria DeSparto replied with an impatient wave of her hand. "And I wake up and your Papa is still not there. If these people…" she motioned to Morgan and Prentiss – "…can explain that, then this is where I should be."

Isabella immediately backed down. Maria turned to face Morgan and Prentiss and then with a kind of regal dignity, extended her hand. "Maria DeSparto."

"Agents Morgan and Prentiss of the FBI," Morgan introduced. She shook both of their hands and Morgan found himself impressed by her handshake. Firm and strong.

This was a woman who would survive simply because she didn't know how not to.

"You asked about my husbands friends, well they were all men like him. Boys who never really grew up. They liked to drink beer and play with the children. They could be irresponsible, but they were all good men. And not one of them would have ever hurt my husband."

Morgan nodded, realizing that it was the force of this woman, her sheer strength and presence which demanded that he accept what she was saying.

"Was he having any problems at work?" Emily pressed on. "Any difficult customers?"

"He worked in retail, Agent Prentiss," Maria replied. "Everyone he dealt with was on some level difficult. But if you're asking if there was someone specific, someone that stuck out, no, not that he told me."

"Mama, what about that man –"

Maria shot her daughter an annoyed look, but Morgan quickly grabbed onto the offered lead and gave it a good pull.

"That man?"

Maria sighed. "About a week before it happened, a man came into the shop. Alvarez had never seen him before. The man wandered the store for about an hour and then when Alvarez asked him to either buy something or leave, the man started cursing and rambling at him. Saying things like 'how do you like it now'. Very strange. Alvarez called the police but the man left then. To my knowledge he never showed up again." Then she shrugged. "I'm sure it was nothing."

"Probably not," Morgan agreed. "But we'll check on it just t make sure."

Maria nodded. Then, "You will find who did this, yes?"

"We will," Emily said. And Morgan realized that she'd beaten him to punch. A punch that both of them knew better to have gotten to.

You were never supposed to make promises you couldn't guarantee.

But this family, these kids, this woman, well they demanded justice.

They demanded to know who had taken their father from them.

Who had cracked their family clean in half.

They demanded the truth.

And he meant to give it to them.

Because in the end, no matter what he told himself, he was able to crawl back inside. He was able to look at the little boy who had lost his own father. The young man who knew what it felt like.

He was able to connect with their pain.

It just hurt like hell to do so.

The drive back was smoother, the traffic jam of earlier having been completely cleared up while they were at the DeSparto house.

Morgan, who was again driving, glanced over at Emily. She was on her cell, listening, waiting. And then, "Great. Thanks." She hung up and turned to him. "The shop Mr. DeSparto worked at is going to send the surveillance tapes over."

"Good."

She frowned. "Derek?"

"I'm okay," he replied. "Just thinking."

"About -?"

He laughed and it was an odd sound, not full of mirth at all. "And that's the question isn't it? There's so much to be thinking about. The mess with Reid and JJ, this case, that family."

"So we focus on the case," she suggested.

"That's the problem isn't it though? We always focus on the case and then everything else goes slipping through the cracks."

It occurred to her that they had somehow jumped tracks, each landing on the other ones. After all, it had been she who on the way to the house and been wondering why Hotch hadn't yet confronted Reid.

And now it was Morgan who was wondering why the job kept getting in the way, kept putting off the inevitable.

And still, "Cracks," she murmured. "This whole case feels like it's full of cracks."

Morgan said nothing, just kept driving.

"Even been to Hawaii?" she asked suddenly.

He blinked. "Yeah, a few years back. There's a great nude bea-" he stopped and laughed when he saw her expression. "Full of nice beaches," he finished.

"Nude ones?"

"I have no comment."

"Uh huh."

"Anyway, why do you ask?"

"Oh, I was just thinking –"

"So now it's your turn," he noted.

She chucked and continued, "About how nice it would be to lay on the beach and not think about anything but the waves and the alcohol."

"Yeah," he admitted. "But the last time I tried that, the job still found me."

"The job," she murmured. "Seems like every night when I go home, it's all I think about. Some part of the job."

"Then you realize it's not your job, it's your life. And you couldn't walk away if you wanted to."

"I had a date last week. With a nice guy, a smart guy. Even held the doors open for me. And I think if we'd gotten that far, he wouldn't have been pissed at me if I hadn't invited him in for a nightcap."

"But…"

"But it was a disaster. Halfway through, his phone rang. He said he had an emergency. Pretty sure his brother or his roommate called and gave him an out."

"That bad?"

She nodded.

"Ouch."

"Yeah and today? That woman's face," Prentiss said, a pained lilt to her voice. It was clear from the look in her eyes that she was seeing a vision of Maria DeSparto. Brave, but devastated. Not broken, but then only by the strength of her will alone. That and the need to take care of her family. "It's going to ruin my next date. I know it will."

"Because it sticks with you," Morgan said, understanding all too well. He was better than her at keeping the job out of his dating life but there had to be a reason why he was still single. Still just interested in flighty one night stands.

Maria DeSparto's face was as good a place as any to start.

"I wish it wouldn't. I don't know how Gideon does it. How he keeps all those people so close to him. I think it would drive me crazy."

Morgan laughed. "Gideon's already a little bit crazy or hadn't you noticed?"

"Still."

"Still," he admitted.

And then once again, there was silence.

Until the soft sound of beeping filled the SUV. Morgan glanced down at his pager, tipped it towards him so he could read it. "It's from Garcia," he told Prentiss. "She wants to see us as soon as we get in."

They exchanged a look then, both of them wondering "now what?"

TBC...