7am – get out of bed and go to the bathroom. Check.

7:15am – breakfast (day three of leftovers from Garcia's breakfast buffet extravaganza). Check.

7:45am – bath.

Only 15 minutes were allotted for the bath, per Sarah and Desiree's schedule, but Derek wasn't so sure they weren't mocking him. So far they had barely made it into the water before Spencer would start escalating. This morning when Spencer had stuck his foot over the edge of the tub and felt the water, he immediately recoiled, sliding down awkwardly on the floor.

"Too hot? Too cold? What's wrong?" Derek had almost shouted, frustration borne more from a broken heart than impatience.

"What's wrong?" Spencer echoed, digging his fingernails into his skin.

Derek had sat dejectedly on the closed toilet seat and held his head in his hands. "That's the million-dollar question, kid," he muttered. "And the answer is, I'm not mom." Taking a deep, calming breath, he assessed the situation. Spencer, skinny and vulnerable, shaking bare-skinned on the cold tile, holding his arms across his body, scratching at both of his forearms. It was a defensive position if Derek had ever seen one. And it was more than that. Spencer looked like he was trying to crawl out of his own skin.

Suddenly, he realized what he had to do. He grabbed a towel and put it over Spencer's shaking body and then crouched down next to him. "Spencer, listen to my voice. We're gonna do some deep pressure squeezes, okay?" He had done this a hundred times for Spencer growing up. Awkwardly, Derek reached over and tried to wrap his arms around Spencer's shaking body as best he could. He spread out his fingers in a vain attempt to cover as much ground as possible. Derek felt his brother writhing underneath his grip, but this was different than the night in the hotel room. Derek was calm and in control of his emotions. He knew how to do this. The hotel room had been chaos — two wrecked brothers on the worst night of their lives. This was still two wrecked brothers but, as Derek was finding, it was one thing to hit rock bottom and another thing entirely to live there. Derek wasn't going to let them stay for a millisecond longer than they needed to.

Spencer felt his clammy, prickling skin, slowly even out with the even warmth and pressure from Derek's body as the world seemed to come back into focus around him. Derek felt Spencer's body go lax inside his arms. Like a deep exhale, the moment had passed.

So bath… uncheck, for now. And also brushing teeth. And combing hair. Derek figured as long as those things happened before they saw their sisters, they could get away with the lack of hygiene. Besides, they were trying to pretend it was a brotherly vacation - brothers were supposed to shotgun beer and eat out of discarded pizza box lids. Not brush each other's teeth.

Derek had intended to let Spencer read his admittedly pitiful collection of books on his bookshelf until lunchtime, neatly scheduled for 11am, while he checked his e-mails and messages. Instead, he awoke to Spencer's finger poking him in the face.

"We're behind."

Derek shot up from the kitchen table. He looked around the kitchen wildly for a second before holstering his imaginary gun and taking a deep, calming breath. "What time is it?"

"11:53."

"Did you eat lunch?"

Spencer almost laughed. "Of course I did. Its 11:53."

"And… you ate lunch at 11. Of course," Derek concluded, his brain still spinning a bit. "Wait – did you eat in the kitchen?"

"In the kitchen," he confirmed.

Derek rubbed his face. He must have been exhausted if he slept through Spencer making lunch (the kid surprised him every day) and eating it at the very table he was passed out at.

"We're behind," Spencer said again. "You said it takes 10 minutes to drive to the library. Its 11:53."

Right. Library at noon. Derek could feel the notebook taunting him. "Okay, lets get going. We can make it if we hurry. Go put your shoes and socks on."

"People who hurry typically only gain microseconds," Spencer retorted.

"Well then we'll just have to do a lot of hurrying, kid."

Spencer scowled as he grabbed his messenger bag and headed out the door

"Hold on," Derek called, eyes skimming around the room for his own keys and wallet.

"Hurry up, hold on, speed up, slow down."

Derek huffed in annoyance but he couldn't help feeling the small thrill of victory as they headed out the door. They were only ten minutes behind schedule, not bad at all considering the failure that day had been up till that point. Sarah had been pestering him for updates, too easily seeing through the facade Derek was putting him. If Derek used the phrase, "Spencer's fine," one more time, he was sure Sarah would be in Virginia before he could end the phone call.

Sarah had all but said it during their first phone call: "We'll figure something else out." The thought of Spencer staying in Chicago after the funeral was so relieving that the guilt was crushing. And yet the reaction he felt when he thought about coming back to Virginia without Spencer that it made Derek want to vomit. There was nothing he wanted more than to tell his sisters that they had had a successful day.

"Communications with satellites orbiting earth typically take approximately 1.337 light-milliseconds," Spencer told Derek as they got in the car.

"Approximately," Derek laughed.

Spencer rolled his eyes. "Its acceptable to round to the nearest thousandth of a light-millisecond."

Derek looked down at the notebook one last time before tossing it on his dashboard, as if the schedule might have changed sometime between the hundred and hundred-and-first read troughs. Derek didn't know what normally happened at Spencer's library at noon everyday but he was sure hoping it could be replicated at the library down the street. He started up the car and began the short drive. They had never gotten this far before in the notebook. Talking about milliseconds and satellites seemed to be helpful. Sarah and Desiree had written a few helpful tips in the front (which was insulting at first, but he had to admit, they had come in handy). #1: If you need him to do anything, get him started on a lecture. He'll talk straight through whatever task you're trying to get him to do and won't even notice he's anxious. As Spencer continued to lecture, Derek wondered how far this strategy could take them. Maybe Spencer could just lecture continuously as they travelled back to Chicago. Maybe they could figure out something so he could continue on for the viewing, for the funeral, and then… Derek shook his head, clearing those ridiculous thoughts from his head. Chicago wasn't until tomorrow.

Today they were pulling up to the library, on time (ish), without any meltdowns all day. That was enough of a victory..

Spencer fell silent from his ten minute lecture as Derek turned off the car. They sat quietly for a minute in the car until Derek finally asked, "What happens at the library at noon?" All this effort and he had no idea why they were there.

"What happens at the library at noon?" Spencer repeated. "I clock in."

"You clock in?" Derek sputtered. "As in, you have a job at the library?"

"I had a job at the Crossley Memorial Library," Spencer corrected.

Derek sighed. "Right," he said. "Had. Okay, how about we go in to this library and you can read as much as you want and when we come back from Chicago we can see about getting you work here?"

Spencer nodded slightly. "How many library books can I take out at a time?"

"Don't kill me kid, but I don't even have a library card," Derek confessed, suppressing a laugh as Spencer looked at him, horrified. "Come on, let's go."

As they walked in, Spencer's eyes lit up. Spencer had studied in some fairly high-end libraries during the course of his reign as Chicago's youngest doctor, but "his library" was the run down out dated community center off shoot down the street. It paled in comparison to Derek's modest neighborhood library. It was like Derek had taken his brother to Disneyworld. Spencer was immediately in his element and seemed to know exactly where to go to find the books he wanted. Within minutes, he had amassed a small mountain and was settling down at a table.

Derek felt the vibration of his cell phone in his pocket. He flipped it open and sighed. "Call me - Hotch." He quickly sent back a text: "At the library with Spencer. Text?"

He wasn't prepared for the next text: "At the plaza? I'm coming to you."

Derek sat down next to Spencer who was devouring books faster than Derek could believe. It had been too long since he had seen Spencer so relaxed. He put his hand gingerly over the page of a book but Spencer ignored him, pulling the next page from underneath Derek's palm. He was in "the zone" — he didn't need to know that Hotch was coming. It was another thing that Derek envied his brother for: the ability to be so totally captivated that nothing could come in and ruin it.

The books were on science, body language, sociology, zoology. They seemed to be a random assortment of whatever Spencer had been able to get his hands on as quickly as possible. Derek opened one on pack behavior in whale pods and read half-heartedly until Hotch arrived. He looked comically out of place in a library, his stern face and business suit a stark contrast to the families who were milling around searching for Harry Potter and Twilight.

"Hotch," Derek greeted, nodding to the next table over. Hotch sat down and Derek joined him. Suddenly he realized that the last time they had seen each other was in Loring. That seemed like a lifetime ago even though it had only been a few days.

"Morgan." Hotch looked Derek up and down, attempting to glean something off of Derek's appearance that would help him out in the forthcoming conversation. Coming up empty, he settled for, "How are you and Spencer doing?"

"Spencer's fine," Derek answered automatically.

Hotch paused. "I'm glad to hear it," he said cautiously. "But I asked about you as well."

"I'm fine," Derek said, but the words died out as they left his mouth. He swallowed thickly. "I'm fine," he tried again. "Really. Today's better." Lies.

"Don't feel like you need to push too hard. Nobody is expecting you back at work until you're ready."

"Hotch—," Derek began, but he was cut off.

"After the way things ended in Loring, I wanted to give you some time to sort things out. I took the liberty of letting the Bureau know you would be taking the rest of your personal days for the year and after that, I've applied for a leave of absence for you."

"Hotch—," Derek began again, but Hotch continued.

"You don't have to take it," he said. "But you know how things have been for us. Its better to make a plan now, get it approved. We can always change it if need be." Derek could only nod lamely in response. Hotch was right, they needed to get a leave of absence approved and through the bureaucratic red tape that always seemed to be a little too tightly wound around the BAU. And he most likely would need it. Spencer needed full time care and Derek was determined to be the one to give it — there wasn't another option on the table.

Logically, Derek understood that Hotch wouldn't have applied for the leave if he hadn't wanted to ultimately retain Derek on the team. But there was still something in him that desperately needed to make sure Hotch knew how badly he wanted to be retained.

"Hotch…" Derek began for the third time. This time, his boss stayed silent. "Look, I appreciate all the work you're doing, I know you stick your neck out there any time you propose a change to the BAU to the higher ups. The BAU means everything to me, the team is my family. But this is family, Spencer is family. And he means everything to me, too. I don't… I don't know what I was thinking in Loring. I'm sorry."

"Spencer gave us the direction we needed to correctly profile and catch a serial killer. And it was at my invitation that you both came. You have nothing to be sorry for," Hotch said. "Ever."

Derek nodded lamely, at a complete loss for words.

"You're leaving tomorrow?" Hotch asked, sensing Derek's effete.

"Tomorrow morning," Derek answered. "Funeral's on Saturday, viewing on Friday. Gives us tomorrow and Thursday to get some things figured out." Like who abused Spencer, Derek wanted to add.

Hotch stood up and Derek followed suit. He looked beyond Derek at Spencer, very happily surrounded by books. "Earlier in my office when I told you that it took a while for Jack to get back to being a kid after…"

"Yeah."

"Its difficult to watch someone you love struggle. Remember you have family here to fall back on."

"Yeah," Derek said quietly, gratefully.

"I have to head back. Please don't hesitate to call for anything. Anytime. And I'll let you know when I hear back about the leave of absence."

"Thanks," Derek said. "For everything."

The bullpen felt eerily empty as Hotch made his way into his office. Derek's desk was empty, of course, though still covered in papers made only slightly neater by Spencer's stacking and organizing the week before. Emily's desk was also empty. Hotch stopped by JJ's office and found a third empty chair. He checked his watch - still lunch time, though improbable that Emily and JJ both had time to go somewhere for lunch. Something wasn't right.

No sooner had Hotch sat down in his chair than Garcia, JJ, and Emily burst into his office. The neon peacock feather adorned hat bobbed on Garcia's head as she caught her breath enough to blurt out, "Sir, forgive the massive, epic intrusion, but I have massive, epic information. Permission to speak freely."

Hotch gave her a glare in reply.

"Right. So the other day I brought breakfast over to the Morgan McHottie house and Spencer ended up getting really upset. Crying, hitting, the whole works. Morgan had to restrain him. I mean Derek. Cause they're both Morgans. That could be confusing."

"It really couldn't be," Emily said dryly, cutting in. "Basically, Hotch, Spencer was shouting that he had seen his mom get stabbed. I believe the exact words were, 'thats how she died, stabbed, stabbed, stabbed.'"

"I didn't want to dig, sir, but… I dug. And dug and dug and dug and I think I found something. Morgan, Derek Morgan said that nobody knew what happened before Spencer was dropped off at the gas station where CPS picked him up. But just an hour before, a woman was found stabbed several blocks away. Nobody ID'ed the body, she was a prostitute and a drug addict. What if it was Spencer's mother?"

"Were there any suspects?" Hotch asked.

JJ stepped forward with a single piece of paper and handed it to Hotch. "A woman named Diana Reid. Former college professor, diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia. Small traces of her blood were found at the scene on a piece of wood found next to the victim. According to the ME and police reports, the victim had defensive wounds, they thought she likely tried and failed to fight off Reid with the plank. The knife used in the stabbing had a serrated edge that the ME was able to link to multiple stabbings in the Chicago area, all homeless, prostitutes, addicts."

"Was she convicted?" Hotch asked.

"No, because here's where it gets even stranger. Diana Reid went missing 17 years ago. The day the woman was stabbed was the day our unsub fell off the grid."

"From what Derek has said of Spencer's early childhood, there's no way he travelled several blocks and sought out help from a stranger after seeing his mother die," Hotch said. "Our unsub brought Spencer to the gas station and then went on the run."

"Serial killers never stop killing," Emily said, her eyes pleading with Hotch.

"I assume you have a call out—."

"We've already been invited in," JJ said. "Its a poor Chicago neighborhood. They were thrilled that the BAU was interested in cleaning up a few cold cases, especially one involving a serial killer."

The three of them held their breath as they waited for Hotch's answer.

"If we receive a more pressing case, we drop the cold case," Hotch told them. Garcia melted against Emily. JJ stayed to give Hotch the rest of the information while the other two women rushed out of the room.

Garcia exploded first. "Wait until I tell Morgan — Morgan's — about this!" she squealed.

Emily put her hand on Garcia's arm. "Tone it down, Garcia," she warned. "The news you're giving them is that we are investigating Spencer's mother's death while they are both on the way home to bury Fran Morgan. It doesn't get much worse."

"Ok maybe its not the best news," she conceded. "But its something we can do to help them. Derek, Spencer, Sarah, Desiree, they're going to be asking 'why' their entire lives. Why did their mom have to die? I can't do anything about that. But I can try to answer a bunch of other 'why's. JJ told me that when she visited them at the hotel, she told them that she wished there was something she could do to change this. Spencer is hurting, there's some serious trauma going on. And maybe if we figure out what happened, we can change that."

All Emily could do was smile in support as Garcia pulled out her cell phone and dialed Derek's number.

"Hey sexy, I have some news for you. What if I told you that I got Spencer a ride to Chicago tomorrow on the BAU jet? … well its a long story… Don't kill me but here's what happened…"