1Spencer placed his messenger bag on his chair and put some files he'd gathered from his desk in it. He glanced hurriedly about to make sure he had everything he wanted to take with him for the night before picking it back up and strapping it across his chest again. His haste wasn't missed by Morgan, who spoke up. "Hey, kid- what's the rush? You runnin' off to catch the end of that movie already? Come on, hang out here for a few minutes. I'm almost ready to go, too. A few of us were gonna get a drink."

"I'll have to take a rain check on that," Spencer replied, adjusting the strap on his shoulder. "Christine's home."

"Home?" Prentiss asked from her desk. "I didn't realize she was gone again."

Spencer nodded. "Yeah, she's been gone for almost six weeks. Her last tour before the baby comes. She came home yesterday."

"While we were in Texas," Prentiss said. "So you haven't seen her in six weeks?"

"Oh, no," Spencer said. "I've been visiting her on the weekends."

"How's she doing?" Prentiss asked. "How far along is she now, anyway?"

"28 weeks," he said. He drew a deep breath and added, "And she's doing…okay, I guess."

Garcia, who had been walking up to them with JJ, stopped short. "What's that supposed to mean? Is something wrong? What do you mean, 'you guess?'"

"No no, nothing's wrong. Nothing serious, anyway. It's just," he said with a shrug, "touring is tiring under the best of circumstances, and the pregnancy is…it's taking a lot out of her. She's exhausted, and…well, kind of moody. Maybe…maybe a little melancholy, too."

Morgan shook his head a little. "I've only known that woman to have two speeds: loud and fast and louder and faster. I can't seem to picture her tired and moody."

"Give her a break, guys," JJ said. "She's building a new life inside her, and her hormones are probably on a rampage. You'd be moody, too."

"I know," Spencer said, "and I appreciate that. It's just hard to see her unhappy."

"You know what you should do?" Morgan said. "Bring her flowers. Women love that."

"Ooh," Prentiss said, nodding. "Flowers for no reason on a weeknight. Yeah, you definitely do that. Very romantic."

"You know what?" Spencer said, smiling. "I think I will. It's been a while. Thanks for the idea!"

"Anytime, kid. I got your back," Morgan said with a wave as Spencer headed for the door.

Spencer put the car in park in front of the house, drew a deep breath, picked up the tulips on the passenger seat beside him, and got out of the car. He was reaching for the doorknob when the door opened. "Oh," Alex said, disappointedly, "it's you."

"You were expecting someone else?" he asked, his eyebrows raised.

"Yeah. Grant. I asked him to come by and pick me up for dinner."

"You're going out on a weeknight? That's not something the two of you usually do, is it?" he observed as he set his things down and took off his coat.

Alex crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. "I need to get out of this house. She's driving me nuts. Do you smell that? All the Pine-sol and bleach?"

"Yes…"

"That was her. She got down on her hands and knees and scrubbed the kitchen floor because she thought it wasn't getting clean enough. And she's calling in some professionals to wax the wood floors now, too. Apparently, I can't do anything right."

"Alex, I'm sure that's not what she meant."

"Isn't it?" she asked, her lower lip trembling. "All day- all day, Spencer!- she's been going around here talking about how she has to do everything herself, and…haven't I done a good job for you guys? I mean, I try really hard, you know?"

"Yes, of course you do. I know that. We all know that!"

"Not her. She acts like I don't do anything. She just cleaned like a demon all morning and then disappeared into her room in the afternoon. She only came out to cook, and she wouldn't talk at all. Whatever," she said. They both turned their heads slightly as they heard a door open above and footsteps starting down the upstairs hallway. Alex lowered her voice to a whisper and continued, "I'm done. I just wanna get out of here and spend time with someone who appreciates me. She's all yours."

Alex sulked away into the parlor as Christine reached the stairs and started down. As Spencer stood looking up at her, he felt his heart sink. Her face, affect and general demeanor all exuded a kind of gloom and dejection such that she seemed to be completely overshadowed by her own dark cloud. "Hungry?" she asked flatly when she reached the bottom of the stairs.

"Yes," he replied, trying to smile. "Very much so."

Without another word, she turned and walked towards the kitchen. He followed her, sat at the table and watched as she moved about, pulling dishes out of the cabinets and dishing up food. She set a plate before him and sat down, prompting him to ask, "Aren't you going to join me?"

"Already ate," she said, not making eye contact.

He took a bite, casting about in his mind for conversation topics. "So, I heard you were busy today…"

She kept her eyes fixed on the tablecloth she was playing with and shrugged.

He poked his fork at his spaghetti and said, "Well, the floor in here looks great. I can tell you worked very hard. Thank you."

Still she said nothing. He took a bite of his food and reached across the table. Her eyes followed his hand as he grasped the salt shaker and sprinkled it over his plate. Suddenly she sat up straighter, her face darker than before. "What's wrong?" she said.

"Wrong? Nothing's wrong."

"Then why are you doing that?"

"This?" he asked, holding up the salt shaker. "I just wanted a little- wait," he said as she reached for his plate, "what are you doing?"

"Getting this out of here. Clearly it's not good enough for you."

He grabbed for his plate as she tried to take it from him. "Stop it! There's nothing wrong with it. I just wanted a little salt!"

As they struggled for control of the plate, tears started to form in her eyes. "I didn't do it right. I can't do anything right…"

"Don't be ridiculous, Christine. Would you…just stop! Give me my food! Stop!" He wrestled the plate away from her and held it out of her reach. "What's wrong with you? For pity's sake, if you can't let me eat in peace, then just go!"

With that, she turned and fled the room. He listened as she stomped up the stairs and slammed the bedroom door, then sighed and turned his attention back to his rescued food. He felt a little guilty for snapping at her, but dammit, he'd had a rough day, too. The case had been an emotionally draining one, one that after the end of which he'd gotten chewed out by Hotch.

He heard the front door open and close. Anderson must have come for Alex. He took another bite. The food was fine. Her cooking was always good. She had been unreasonably over-sensitive. Geez. He constantly praised her cooking. She should know by now she is appreciated. There was no need for her to be so dramatic about it. All he did was add a little salt. A man's entitled to salt his own food, isn't he? Why did she even put it on the table if she didn't want it used? He sighed. And was it too much to ask to have a little peace and quiet when he came home? Especially after the day he'd had. Getting rebuked by Hotch had only put the icing on the cake. The case had brought up memories, had forced him to relive experiences from his childhood he'd spent the last 15 years trying to forget. Memories so painful he hadn't even told Christine about them. But even that hadn't been the worst of it. The worst had been the emotional turmoil he'd felt at identifying so closely with the unsub, his loneliness, his alienation, his victimization by bullies. His heart ached for Owen. He wished he could have turned back time for him and rewritten his childhood, maybe parented him better and gotten him help for his learning disability. Owen should have had a happy life and a bright future with the girl he loved, instead of one in which he'd be caged like an animal…

The girl he loved. Spencer picked up a napkin, wiped his mouth and dropped it on his now-empty plate. He had a girl he loved, one who at that very moment was upstairs in their room, probably lying on their bed, crying. It wasn't his fault. He hadn't done anything wrong to her, and had nothing to apologize for. But it was within his power to at least try and comfort her. He pushed back from the table, cleared away his plate, and headed up the stairs.

There was no answer when he knocked on the bedroom door, so he opened it slowly. It squeaked on it's hinges; he made a mental note to fix that- he didn't want to risk waking a sleeping baby soon with the sound. The room was dark. As he entered, he said her name softly. She didn't reply, but in the dim light he could see her hand creep up onto the nightstand, take a tissue from the box there, and bring it to her nose as she lay there. When he moved around the bed to stand in her line of sight, she rolled over to turn away from him. He bit his lower lip, went back around the bed and sat down on his side, but she rolled over again. He sat for a moment, searching for something to say, before reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone. He scrolled through it briefly, then stood and walked over to her dressing table where her speakers sat. He connected the devices and sat back down. As the music began to play he sang along in his faulty tenor, "Turn around, every now and then I get a little bit lonely and you're never coming round, Turn around, every now and then I get a little bit tired of listening to the sound of my tears…"

"Hush up," she said finally. "You're embarrassing yourself."

In the dark he smiled to himself and sang out a little louder, "…every now and then I get a little bit terrified and then I see the look in your eyes…"

"Stop it. Shame on you. You're ruining a perfectly good song!"

He fell silent for a moment before singing even louder, "And I need you now tonight, And I need you more than ever, And if you only hold me tight-"

Suddenly she sat up and hit him in the chest with a pillow. "Stop it, stop it, stop it! What are you doing? You couldn't carry a tune in a bucket!"

He caught the pillow between his hands and said, "Are you going to talk to me now? Because if you don't, I'll keep singing!"

She yanked the pillow back from him, put it down on the bed, and laid back down saying, "Fine. Talk."

He laid down facing her and brushed the hair out of her face. "I know this isn't about salt, Christine, so please tell me- what's really going on? No, don't," he said as she started to pull the covers up over her head. "I can't help you if you won't talk to me."

She said something that came out muffled by the quilt. He pulled it down below her chin. "What was that?"

"I'm just sad, and I don't even know why I'm sad but I am," she sobbed.

"Well, can you tell me what kinds of things are making you sad?"

She wiped her nose with a crumpled tissue. "You know, we got back really late last night, so I just went straight to bed. But I kept getting Charley horses all night, so that sucked, and when I finally got up I really wanted some coffee, and-"

"Coffee, Christine?" Spencer said disapprovingly.

"Well, I made the coffee and was just about to pour it when I remembered I can't have coffee, so I went to put it back, but the carafe slipped out of my hand somehow and shattered on the floor. So I had to clean all that up. I'm still terrified that I didn't get it all and that someone will go in there in their stocking feet and get cut on a shard of glass I missed. It even splashed under the refrigerator, and I had to move that big ol' bastard. When I was moving the fridge I saw that it was all dusty behind there, so I started cleaning the wall, but that only made me sad because I'm too short to do a very good job and too scared of heights to get up on a step ladder. Then I was sad because I realized that when this baby comes, my mother is going to come and visit, and she's going to notice the messy floors and half-washed walls and she's going to judge me six ways to Sunday." She sniffed and wiped her nose. "Even worse, she'll judge Alex, like, wondering what the hell do I pay her for? Well, Alex works really damn hard, you know? But she's not Wonder Woman and I don't expect her to be, so I don't need my mother judging her. Then thinking about my mother coming over made me think about all the guests we're going to have who wanna see the baby, and that made me sad thinking about all the stress it's going to be to feed them all, I mean," she said as she began to cry harder, her voice rising, "I'm going to have to transform into basically a milk cow for this baby- when am I going to find the time to cook and feed a crowd when I'm busy feeding this kid? How do women do it? I don't understand, Spencer? How?"

He stroked her hair again and started, "Dear, I understa-"

"But then I was so upset by all that," she interrupted, "that I thought I was gonna throw up or something. So I crawled into bed with my laptop. At first I just wanted to know why koalas are sometimes called koala bears. I wondered if they shared some common ancestor with modern bears. Turns out, they don't. But they're so cute that I decided to watch YouTube videos of them. And the first few videos of them being held and petted at zoos were fine, so then I decided to watch a National Geographic special on koalas. But…but…it talked about how dramatically koalas are losing their habitat, which made me sad, and about how over 300 koalas die on the roadways every year, and about how in some populations of koalas as many as 90% of the animals are suffering from chlamydia- the clap, Spencer! The poor things have the clap!" she wailed. "And the ones that do survive to old age, do you know how they die? Basically, after they wear their teeth down too far, they starve to death! Oh, and then there's dogs, too. They actually showed one female koala getting attacked and murdered by a pack of dogs. I thought I was going to have a mental breakdown. Why would they film something so horrible without trying to stop it?"

"It's not the role of the documentary film maker to intervene with nature. And for better or for worse, dogs are a park of the koala's ecosystem," Spencer said. "At least the female didn't have a joey with it."

"But it did have a joey! The joey was on her back, but was able to run away when it's mother went down. Oh! And you know how a group of kangaroos is called a mob?"

"Yes," he said, "I've heard that before."

"Well," she said, "what do you think they call a group of koalas?"

Spencer stopped for a moment then looked at her, a little befuddled. "I…I'm drawing a blank. I don't think I've ever heard the collective noun for koalas."

"They call them nothing!" she cried, sobbing. "There is no collective term for them because they live lonely, pathetic little lives before dying from disease, dismemberment, or starvation. It's all so tragic that I want to find a koala and just hug and cuddle it and keep it safe for a little while, but now with this kid it's gonna be years before we can go to Australia and hug koalas!" She buried her face in her pillow and sobbed some more.

He was quiet for a moment, letting her cry. Then he said softly, "First, you of all people should know that there are koalas in several US zoos- Columbia, South Carolina would be the closest, but they also have them in Houston, Cleveland, Jacksonville, Albuquerque…the best place to see them, though, would be the San Diego Zoo. They have a very successful breeding program there, so you may even get to hold a joey if we go there. Would you like that?"

She sniffed and wiped her nose. "Yes…"

"Then we'll go, anytime you're ready, okay? Now, why do you think you were so drawn to koalas?"

"I dunno, because they're cute. Why do you know so much about what zoos have them?"

He laughed a little. "I learned that from Garcia. She likes cute baby animals, too, and shows me pictures of them every time I have occasion to be in her office. I merely noted who had copyrighted the photos. But what is it about koalas specifically? Could it be that they're marsupials? I mean, the way they carry and nurture their young is a very visible representation of what you're experiencing right now…"

"Oh, I'll never get over seeing that mother killed by the dogs," she moaned, pulling the covers back over her head. She quickly pulled them down again and sat up. "And do you know what the koala father was doing during all of this? Neither do I, because koala fathers aren't involved with rearing their own young!" she cried. "They do nothing but sleep, eat, and occasionally find a female to give the clap to, the lazy bastards!"

Spencer sat up beside her. "Ah. I get it now," he said. "Dear, you do realize I'm not a koala, don't you?"

Her eyes grew large with horror as she looked at him. "That's not even the worst of what I've seen today. I heard on this video that male koalas have a bifurcated penis because females have two vaginas, and I wanted to know what that looked like, so I Googled 'koala penis'." She grabbed his shirt and shook him. "Do you have any idea what sort of images you find when you Google 'koala penis'? Do you? I saw things today, Spencer. Filthy, horrible things. Drawings of people doing unspeakable things to large-breasted koalas. Koalas don't even have breasts!" She released him and fell back on the bed, sobbing, "Why? Why did I go on the internet today?"

He had to wait a moment before speaking to her, to be sure he could do so without laughing. When he felt he had mastered himself he said, "Something you said at the start of your koala…discourse…you mentioned that you felt ill, but you've mentioned previously that you stopped experiencing morning sickness after the first trimester, so I'm wondering: was this an actual, physical symptom you were experiencing, or were you speaking in a non-literal sense?"

"No, I meant it, Spencer. I literally felt like I was going to barf. It's this…this thing that comes over me lately when try and let my mind and body relax. I feel like…almost like there's a tightness in my chest and my stomach turns over- a few days ago it got so bad while I was trying to go to sleep that I dry-heaved."

"Okay. Now, I'm not the medical doctor here, but I have studied enough psychology to know that what you're experiencing sounds like a panic attack. And that's totally understandable, Christine. You're going through a major life change which brings with it a tremendous amount of stress, and in addition you're experiencing dramatic hormone fluctuations. It's not hard to see how it's happening. But, look at me," he commanded, cupping her chin in his hand, "I'm not a male koala. I'm here to help you through this. It's okay to feel sensitive and sad. It is not okay, though, that you're driving yourself from one activity to the next because you're afraid to be alone with your own thoughts. There are ways to manage your stress and alleviate your anxiety, and I can be a resource to help you with that. The first thing you should do when anxiety hits- and you know the kind I'm talking about, the sort that pops into your mind and paralyzes you and makes your heart race all at once- is to think calmly and rationally about a situation. For example, when your mother comes to visit, she is not going to be moving our large appliances to see if they've been cleaned behind. And she will, in all likelihood, forgive any little bit of dirt or dust while understanding your situation, having been through it five times herself. Also, when the baby comes, both Alex and I will be home. You've always trusted us to do the majority of the cleaning around here before, so you have no real reason to doubt we'll be capable of handling it in the future.

"So then after you recognize those things that you can accept and be at peace with, you have to decide on a course of action for those things you genuinely wish to change. Take feeding guests- it's true that's something that should be done, and it's also true that you're probably going to be too busy or too exhausted to do it. So ask yourself what you can do about it? Of course, Alex will be a big help, but you're overlooking someone who is ready, willing, and able to be of assistance."

Christine sighed pitifully. "I can't ask my friends to all bring a dish to pass. That's just tacky."

"I've never known you to shy away from being tacky…"

"Hey!"

"I'm kidding!" he said, raising his hands to fend off the pillow she aimed at his face. "I was talking about me. I can help."

"No, but seriously, Spencer, this is nothing to joke about."

"I'm not joking! Look, I know you find this hard to believe, but I did manage to survive for years on my own before I met you."

She rolled her eyes at him. "We're not feeding our guest ramen noodles and TV dinners, Spencer."

"I'm not talking about that."

"We're not feeding them frozen fish sticks or soup from a can, either."

"Would you please put a little faith in me, dear? I'm talking about you teaching me. And stop looking at me like that! I'm a fast learner and I'm highly motivated. You've taught me how to make Rice Krispie treats. Who's to say you can't teach me how to make spaghetti and meatballs, too?"

"Oh!" she burst out. "So you can make them better than me, I suppose?"

"It was salt! I just added a little salt! Let it go!" She crossed her arms and sulked while he continued, "You can teach me whatever you'd like, but please, let me help you. Let me take some of these burdens off you so that you don't feel so stressed and anxious. Because, well, look at yourself. You're a young, healthy, beautiful woman who's about to bring a new life into the world. You should be happy. You deserve to be happy, and to enjoy this time. So trust me to keep the house clean and let me help you cook. Take some time to focus on things that make you happy. If a trip to Carolyn's salon would help, take it. If new clothes would make you feel better about yourself, buy them. If you need a night of laughter, go see a show- I'll even come with, if you'd like. Whatever it takes to make you feel good about being you, do it." He brushed back a bit of hair from he face and said, "But I have one request, and this one I want you to take seriously."

"What?"

"All this, what you've been experiencing- the mood swings, the sadness, the anxiety- a lot of that can be explained by your hormone fluctuations on top of the stress of touring and worrying about what comes next. And maybe now that you're home and now that I can help you more it will get better. But you have to promise me, and I mean really promise me, that if you feel like this or worse after the baby comes, and you know what I'm talking about- if you feel hopeless, if you feel like you're not bonding with the baby, if you can't do anything but sleep all day- you have to talk to me about it. And you have to be willing to get help if you do."

"I'm not going to go crazy, Spencer."

"This isn't about craziness, Christine. Postpartum depression is very real, and it really hurts as many at one in seven new mothers. You're the one who insisted I get help when I had a problem, and I'm very grateful I did. Psychological help saved my life. Like I said, you deserve to be happy and to enjoy all these things in your life, and if you feel like you're drowning, please, please, please reach out to me so you can get to a place where you can feel wonderful about all of the amazing things that are about to happen in your life. In both of our lives."

"Alright," she said softly. "I promise."

"Hey," he said, "I have something else to tell you. Something you'll be happy to hear."

"What's that?"

"I went to a meeting the other day."

She raised her eyebrows. "A meeting-meeting?"

He nodded. "Narcotics Anonymous. One specifically for law enforcement officials."

"And…?"

"And you were right. There were a lot of people all telling my same story. It…it felt like a burden off my shoulders to know I wasn't alone."

"I'm really proud of you, sweetheart. Like, super proud right now."

He leaned in so that their foreheads touched. "It works, Chris. Letting others help you works."

They gazed into each others' eyes until he closed his and kissed her. She put her arm around his neck and kissed him back, sinking blissfully back into the pillow. He paused for a moment to look down into her face and see her smiling back at him and kissed her again. He ran his left hand from her hip up under her t-shirt and caressed her breast. When he heard her murmur happily, he leaned back and reached down to unbutton his pants. As he did so, she gasped and jumped out of bed.

"What?" he asked, bewildered. "Where are you going?"

"Downstairs. To the kitchen! Come on!"

"You…you want to have sex in the kitchen?"

"Sex? No! I wanna bake!"

"Now?!"

"Yeah," she said, excitedly. "I took some butter out of the fridge early to soften. We can make peanut butter cookies!"

He sat up, exasperated. "Can we do that maybe after sex?"

She stuck out her lower lip and pouted. "But you said you wanted to learn…"

"And I thought you enjoyed sex!"

"I like baking more." When she saw his jaw drop, she laughed and said, "Look. It takes 10 minutes to bake a batch. Let's get one batch in and then you can take me to pound town for ten whole glorious minutes. If you can last that long."

He shook his head a little. "You're unbelievable."

"Believe it, baby. You comin' or not?"

He sighed. "I'm coming. Just…give me a moment to, uh, get myself under control."

"The bathroom's in there. Take a cold shower if you need to and hurry up! I'll go get the measuring cups out…"

As he watched her turn and leave he said simply, "Super."

A/N

This takes place after season 3, episode 16, "Elephant's Memory", which originally aired on April 16, 2008.

The song Spencer sings to Christine is "Total Eclipse of the Heart" by Bonnie Tyler.