Time

Time passes, their lives with it…

#

This was the absolute opposite of what he'd intended when his phone had buzzed with a message—can we meet up?—and he'd gone to meet with the boy who wasn't a boy any longer.

Derek was going to kill him.

Hank had come to him. Spencer had remembered holding him as a baby, some twenty-eight years ago and decided that, even if this started a war, he'd back his godson all the way.

"Dad," Hank said over dinner that night. Spencer peered through the glasses that only stalled his failing vision. He'd made jokes about them but hadn't actually told any of his family how much he'd lost. He wasn't a field agent anymore, so he'd been able to hide it. For now.

"I'm applying for the FBI Academy," Hank declared firmly. "Uncle Spence supports me."

All eyes fell on him. He noted the fear in the Morgans' gazes, and said, "He'll be a fine agent. Just like his dad was."

He would be.

But that didn't make this easier. They knew that even the fine agents fell.