Spencer stared at the dark ceiling. Exhaustion pulled at him, but he was too afraid to fall asleep. Every time he closed his eyes he saw Riley sprawled out on the ground, his glassy eyes staring up at the night sky, and so he forced himself to keep his eyes open.

He was so tense that it hurt, his little body sore and aching with effort of keeping himself awake. At least now he was warm and clean; he didn't want to shower in the dark with ice cold water the past few days.

Everything was too quiet. He'd gotten used to the apartment- other neighbors talking and arguing through the thin walls, the rush of traffic outside, the chug and clank of the old pipes. JJ's house was silent and efficient. Even the ceiling fan didn't seem to make a noise.

There was too much. Everything was too much. It was too quiet and his heartbeat was too loud and the tag of the borrowed shirt scratched the back of his neck and the pillows felt wrong and the blankets were too hot but if he pushed them back he'd be too cold.

He stuck his thumb in his mouth. He wasn't sure what time it was, but the hallway light shining into the room was reassuring. It was just enough light that he could make out the shapes of the playroom- a television and shelves of movies, a pile of stuffed animals, a little basketball hoop, a toy box. JJ's son was lucky. All those toys, and a whole room just to keep them in. He probably had plenty of clothes too, and books.

He was still hungry, but his stomach twisted tight with nausea. Maybe it was just the stress. Even with the vague threat of throwing up again lurking in the back of his mind, he still wished he'd asked JJ's husband for more to eat. He couldn't remember the last time someone had made him food at home.

No, he did remember. A Friday night, in early November. His mom had had a good day, and she'd made him grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup, but the milk she added to the canned soup was slightly sour and she burned the bread so badly it was inedible.

He pulled the blankets tighter around himself and rolled over onto his side, keeping his thumb in his mouth. It would be okay. It had to be. The agents would keep him safe, and they'd help him find his mom, and they could pack everything up and go home to their house in Las Vegas and everything would be back to normal.

The agents were nice. They really were. They didn't treat him like a baby, they talked to him like he was a grown up. And they were worried about him, he could tell.

For a moment he almost wished that Alex had been the one to take him home instead. She thought he was smart, and she talked to him about books, and she had the nicest softest voice he'd ever heard. And she'd stayed with him the whole time. He couldn't remember the last time someone picked him up or rubbed his back or took care of him.

He took a deep breath. He needed to just calm down. He needed to sleep, and in the morning JJ would take him to her office, and they would find Gary Michaels and they would find his mother and all of this could be a memory.

He closed his eyes. He saw Riley lying on the pavement, blood and rain slicking his bright blond curls away from his stark white face, his blue eyes staring up at the night sky.

Spencer opened his eyes with a startled shriek. He sat up, curling himself into a little ball against the pillows, and he waited for the night to be over.

JJ woke with a start. The room was still dark and silent; she could barely make out Will's shape against the white closet doors.

"Sorry, darlin'," he whispered. "Go back to sleep."

She rolled over onto her back, brushing her hair out of her eyes. "What time is it?" she mumbled.

"About seven thirty."

She bolted upright. "Oh my god, I forgot to set my alarm," she said, climbing hastily out of bed and switching on the bedside lamp. "I have to wake up Henry, we have to get him to school-"

"Don't worry about it, already done," Will said. "He's up and dressed and fed. Once he gets his shoes on and I've got my coat I'm taking him to school."

JJ sighed heavily and sank back down on the edge of the bed. "Thank you so much," she sighed.

Will kissed her forehead as he pulled his jacket on. "You just worry about getting Spencer squared away," he said. "Do you think he'll need to stay again tonight?"

"No idea," she said. "We need to find his mother, we probably need to get him into witsec. He needs a permanent placement. Maybe with a foster family if his own family can't be located."

"You think we could take him?" Will asked quietly. She bit her lip. "He's a sweet kid, Jayje. And he's gone through a lot of shit. He might not make it out if he gets tossed into the foster system."

JJ raked her hair back. "I'm not sure," she said. "I don't think he'd do well in foster care either, to tell you the truth. But he's going to need guardians who can focus on him. Balancing a traumatized kid and a five-year-old would be tough."

"That's a fair point," Will said. "But when y'all are talking about it today, just know that I'd be fine with him staying with us, even on a temporary basis until a better home can be found for him."

She smiled up at him. "I love you a lot, you know that?" she said.

Will grinned and bent to kiss her, but he was interrupted by a small blond tornado racing into the room. "Mommy!" Henry cheered, leaping onto her lap. "Good morning, Mommy!"

JJ hugged him tight and pressed kisses to his cheeks. "Good morning, jellybean," she said. "Did Daddy get you all ready for school?"

"Uh-huh," he said, holding onto her shoulders. "Do you have to fly tonight?"

"No, baby, I'm in the office today, so I'll be home tonight for dinner," she said. "We can watch a movie and eat popcorn tonight, okay? Will that be fun?"

Henry's eyes lit up. "Can we watch Toy Story?" he said. "Please? Can we watch it?"

Will groaned silently behind him; JJ bit back a grin. Henry had a tendency to watch the same movie repeatedly for weeks before abruptly switching. This would be the third viewing that week. "Sure, honey, we can watch Toy Story," she said. "Give me a hug and kiss so Daddy can take you to school, okay?"

Henry obeyed before sliding down from her lap and grabbing onto Will's hand. "See you tonight, beautiful," he said. "But call me if you need me. Remember what I said."

"I'll remember," she promised.

She made the bed and reached for her favorite cardigan as Will and Henry's footsteps faded on the stairs. Hotch had told her she could come in as late as she needed to with Spencer, and the boy had to still be asleep. Doubtless she had plenty of time to make coffee, maybe get breakfast ready for him before he woke up.

She headed down the stairs, pulling her cardigan closed around her, and peeked into the playroom. "Oh!" she said, startled. "Have you been awake for a while?"

She hadn't expected him to be awake, but Spencer was sitting up on the sleeper couch bed, not even leaning back against the pillows, his thumb in his mouth. "A little while," he echoed.

"You can go back to sleep, sweetheart, we don't have to be at Quantico until you're ready," she said.

"No, I can get up," he said.

She flipped on the lights. He did look much better than he had the night before with his face scrubbed clean, but his hair was tangled and he still seemed droopy and tired. And Will was right- he was thin as a rail, his cheeks hollowed and his wrists bony. "Well, let's get some breakfast, then," she said. "Are you hungry for anything in particular?" He shook his head. "I'll go make something. Go ahead and get dressed, and come down to the kitchen when you're ready."

He nodded silently. JJ closed the door behind her as she headed back down the hall. He was so quiet, and it worried her. Maybe he was naturally a quiet kid, maybe the trauma was affecting him already. After all, he found the dead body of his playmate just over twelve hours earlier. And before that...she couldn't even fathom the idea of a little boy living alone for two months without anyone noticing or caring.

She pulled a box of waffles out of the freezer and dropped two in the toaster before pouring herself a cup of coffee. It would have been nice to get a little extra sleep, but if he was already awake, no point in trying to get him to sleep longer. Most likely he was worried about what was going to happen to him. She couldn't blame him for being nervous. It had to be scary for him, getting thrown with all these strange grown ups and having to sleep in an unfamiliar bed.

When the waffles popped in the toaster she slathered them with peanut butter and covered them with sliced bananas and strawberries. She wasn't sure if he would like it, but Henry did, so maybe he would too. She had just set the plate down on the table when Spencer peeked into the kitchen.

"Hi, sweetheart, you're just in time," she said. "Sit down and eat. It's just toaster waffles, but we have some other things if you'd like. Do you want something different?"

Spencer's eyes went owlishly round. "No, thank you," he said.

JJ poured him orange juice into one of Henry's plastic cups and set it down in front of him. "Take your time eating," she said. "I just need to get dressed, and when you're ready we'll head out."

Spencer nodded as he tentatively picked up one of the waffles. He nibbled along the edge cautiously. "I'll be right back," she said.

She got dressed quickly and put on enough makeup to look awake and presentable. If she had to hold another press conference about the Jenkins boy, she had an entire "I have to be on TV" makeup kit somewhere in her desk. Most likely she'd just be in the office, and she had a sneaking suspicion that it would be a long day.

She headed back to the kitchen to find Spencer sitting at the table with an empty plate and an empty cup in front of him. "Are you still hungry?" she asked. "We have time, I can make you another one."

"No, thank you," he said. He was still so quiet, and stiff, as if he was afraid to move too much. "I'm ready to go."

She picked up his dishes. "Go get your shoes and your coat, then," she said. She set the dishes down in the sink, but when she turned around he hadn't moved. "Are you okay?"

"I don't have a coat," he said blankly.

JJ hesitated. She should have thought that through. "Well, Will washed your clothes from last night, we can get your hoodie out of the dryer," she said. "But let me check, we might have something you can borrow. Go get your shoes and your bag."

He slid down from the chair, avoiding eye contact. JJ bit back a sigh. Maybe Will was on to something- maybe they should keep him, just to make sure for her own sanity that he was someplace safe and protected.

"Garcia. Stop pacing. He's not here yet."

Penelope jumped. "I'm sorry, I just wanted to check," she said.

Hotch raised an eyebrow. "I told JJ to let him sleep in as much as she needed to," he said. "It's only a little past nine, I'd be surprised if they're here before eleven."

"Oh, sure," she said. "Poor little thing, he has to be exhausted." Without thinking she peered around the hallway, trying to see through the glass doors to the bank of elevators.

"Garcia," Hotch said, the barest hint of mirth in his voice.

"I know! It's early! I'm sorry!" she said. "I'm just- he's just a baby. I can't stop thinking about it. I want to see him."

"Trust me, as soon as they get here, I'll let you know," Hotch said. "In the meantime, get set up in the conference room and get everyone else caught up."

"All right, all right, fine," Penelope sighed. "But the second they get here-"

"I promise. Go."

She walked briskly down the hall with her laptop tucked under her arm. This was absolutely killing her. It wasn't unheard of for team members to take a child under their wing- Derek staying in touch with Ellie Spicer came to mind- but this was different. This was big. This was close to home.

Derek, Rossi, and Emily sat at the table with cups of coffee in front of them; Emily was idly stirring the contents but clearly hadn't taken a sip yet. "Anything yet?" Derek asked.

"On JJ and the little munchkin, no," she said as she opened up her laptop. "Details on the case, some."

"Morgan just got us caught up on what happened last night while we were with the Jenkins family," Rossi said. "Was that kid really living alone for two months?"

"Fifty-one days, and yes," Penelope said. "Completely alone."

"Do you have any information on his mother yet?" Emily asked.

"Not on the mother, but some on Gary Michaels," she said. "Which reminds me-"

Alex walked into the conference room and set her bag down on her usual chair. "What about Gary Michaels?" she asked. "Has he been located? Is Spencer all right?"

"Not...exactly," Penelope said. She looked wildly at Derek. This was not the kind of thing she wanted to explain.

Alex paused, her coat half unbuttoned. "What the hell is that supposed to mean, not exactly?" she said.

Derek leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "Hotch and I took Spencer back to his apartment," he said. "Gary Michaels was waiting for him."

"Oh my god," Alex said. "Is Spencer safe? Where is he?"

"He's safe, don't worry," Rossi said quickly. Alex didn't seem assured, her mouth drawn in a thin line.

"Hotch took him up to the apartment and called for backup while I went after Michaels," Derek said. "I didn't get to him fast enough."

"We've got some information that I'm working on, though," Penelope said.

"So where's Spencer?" Alex asked. "Where's his mother?"

Penelope bit her lip. "There isn't a mom," she said. "At least right now. His mother's missing."

"For how long?" Alex demanded. "When did that happen?"

"Spencer says she walked out on him two months ago," Emily said quietly.

All the color drained from Alex's face. "Oh my god," she breathed. "Why didn't we pick up on that? Why didn't I see that?"

"He's been taking care of himself and hasn't told a soul," Rossi said. "You talked to his teachers. None of them picked up on it, and they've had him in class for over half a school year."

"Where is he now?" Alex asked.

"JJ took him for the night," Derek said. "That apartment was uninhabitable. The power had been cut off, it was filthy, there was nothing to eat. There was no way the kid could stay there, even if his mother was there."

"Oh, god," Alex said. "But he's okay? He's safe?"

Hotch walked into the conference room. "He's fine, JJ is bringing him in now," he said. "She texted me to make sure he'd have the security clearance to come up here." He checked his watch. "They'll be up any minute now. We need to figure out what to do with him."

"What can we do with him?" Emily asked.

Penelope fidgeted with her charm bracelets as they argued. "He needs to go into witsec," Rossi said.

"But we can't send a little kid into witness protection alone," Derek objected. "We need to figure out what happened to his mother. Ideal scenario is that we locate her, and put her and the kid together into witsec."

Hotch frowned. "That might not be a good idea," he said. "The apartment was in bad shape, and not just from two months without an adult. There's a high possibility that Spencer's mother wasn't caring for him properly in the first place, and if that's the case he shouldn't be left alone with her."

"Garcia, do you have any information on the mother?" Emily asked.

Penelope let go of her charm bracelet with a delicate clatter. "Not yet," she said. "I do have some information on Gary Michaels, though. Mostly that Gary Michaels isn't his real name. I haven't found his real name yet, but I know that he works on the repair squad of a local electronics store, and I've located his home."

"Morgan and Prentiss, I want the two of you to check out the house," Hotch said. "Rossi, I want you to go with JJ to his work once she gets here and talk to his employers. Alex and I will talk to Spencer." Alex nodded. She had stayed standing, her arms crossed, completely still but frowning at the floor, as if she was deep in her own thoughts.

"And I will keep looking for information on Diana Reid," Penelope said. "Hopefully I'll get something useful soon." She sighed. "Hopefully."

The conference room door tapped open. "Hey, everyone, we made it," JJ said.

She ushered a child into the room and closed the door behind them. Penelope looked him up and down, her heart already melting. He was a beautiful little boy, all big hazel eyes and shaggy light brown hair, his downturned mouth a bit too wide in his delicate face. But she saw quickly that his shoes were in bad shape, and his jeans were too baggy on his thin legs, and his coat was just a little bit too tight.

She recognized that coat. She was the one who had bought that coat. She'd found it in an after Christmas sale and impulsively bought it even though she knew it would be a little too big for Henry. It was a cute coat, and he'd grow into it eventually, and as Henry's godmother she had to spoil him, she was legally obligated.

How did a coat that was a little bit too big on a five-year-old fit almost perfectly on a nine-year-old?

The rest of the team were saying hello to Spencer and he wasn't saying much in response. He seemed dazed, almost stunned into silence. "Spencer, this is the last member of our team," JJ said. "This is Penelope Garcia, she's our technical analyst."

"Resident computer genius," she clarified. "Hi, Spencer. It's really nice to meet you." She tilted her head. "Oh, I'm so glad you're here and you're safe. You are in the best of hands, okay?"

Spencer didn't respond. Hotch looked down at the solemn, silent child. "Everything okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, yeah, everything's fine," JJ said, brushing her hair out of her eyes. "Have I missed anything?"

Spencer seemed to shrink into himself as the adults talked over his head, getting JJ caught up. For a moment Penelope debated getting his attention and distracting him from all the serious grownup talk, but it might do more harm than good for yet another unfamiliar adult to start talking to him.

Alex crossed over to him and knelt down, taking his hands in both of hers. "Hi," she said softly. "I heard you had a rough night after I left you." Spencer nodded, his mouth pressed together in a thin line. Alex rubbed her thumbs over the backs of his hands. "We're going to take care of it now, okay? You don't have to worry. We'll get this all figured out."

He nodded, and now it almost looked like he was trying to smile but he couldn't manage it. A lock of hair drooped over his forehead and Alex smoothed it back.

"Spencer, I want you to come with me and Agent Blake so we can talk," Hotch said. "Everyone else, you know where you're supposed to go." He paused. "Garcia, can you come with us too? You might be able to work with the information Spencer is able to give us."

"Yes!" she said, scooping up her laptop swiftly. "Absolutely, yes, I am here to help."

Alex straightened up, but she still held Spencer's hand, and Penelope saw his slim fingers curl around hers. It made her heart squeeze unexpectedly, and she wasn't exactly sure why.

On one hand, they needed to get answers quickly. On the other hand, Hotch had no inclination to rush Spencer. The shock was written all over his pale, pinched little face. The kid had gone through massive trauma, after months of abandonment, and there was no telling how much neglect or even abuse he'd experienced before that.

He quietly rearranged the furniture in his tidy office so that Spencer could sit on the couch with Alex, and he and Penelope could sit nearby in chairs rather than placing his desk between them. Looming over the child as an authority wouldn't do anything to reassure him in his already shaky state.

Alex had taken his borrowed coat, draping it over the arm of the couch, and Penelope had magically procured him a cup of hot chocolate- the good kind with the mini marshmallows in it, not the plain packet from the breakroom. Spencer held Penelope's octopus cup with both hands, occasionally pausing to take a careful sip.

"I don't think this octopus has enough tentacles," he said. "There should be eight."

"Oh, yes, hence the name," Alex said. "Octo for eight. You know, they discovered a six tentacled octopus. So they call him a hexapus. Henry the hexapus."

Spencer smiled for the first time since Hotch had met him yesterday, making a dimple pop in his cheek. "Sometimes octopi lose tentacles because they get bored and eat them," he said.

"I can safely say I haven't heard that before," Alex said.

Penelope shivered. "Oh, that gives me the heebie-jeebies," she said. "I got that mug because I thought it was cute. I don't want to think about the poor thing eating its own arms. But do you know what? They have too many arms. Eight is way too many. Too many extra body parts."

Spencer tilted his head. "The giant Pacific octopus has three hearts and nine brains," he reported.

Penelope shivered again."Too many! Too many things!" she exclaimed, and Spencer almost laughed.

"Do you want to be a marine biologist when you grow up?" Hotch asked, barely hiding a smile.

"Maybe," Spencer said. "I like science a lot. And math." He shifted his weight, his legs too short for his toes to touch the ground. "I've thought about becoming a scientist, maybe with a focus in chemistry. Or a physicist. Or a psychologist. Or a professor."

Alex sat up a little straighter. "Did you know that Agent Blake is a professor?" Hotch said.

"When I'm not here, I teach at Georgetown," she said. "I'm a professor of linguistics."

Spencer's eyes widened. "Really?" he said. "My mom is a professor, she teaches medieval literature."

Hotch caught Alex's eye; hopefully she would follow his train of thought. "Where does your mom teach?" he asked.

"University of Nevada," Spencer said.

"Reno or Las Vegas?"

"Las Vegas," he said. "I was born and raised there. Until we moved."

"That's a long ways away," Alex said. "When did you move here?"

"Last spring," Spencer said. He faltered. "Almost a year ago. Mom took a sabbatical so she could write a book. She wanted a change of scenery."

His voice had fallen into something flat, robotic, as if he was reciting something from memory. "What's your mom's book about?" Alex asked, trying to draw him back.

"The influence of Chaucer on the works of Marlowe, Spenser, and Shakespeare," he said. The light had faded completely from his eyes. "I don't think her book is going really well, though."

"How can you tell?"

Spencer shrugged. "She was smoking a lot, and drinking a lot," he said. "Before she left. It's always a bad sign."

"Do you remember what happened the day your mom left?" Hotch asked.

"I remember," Spencer said dully. He looked down at the mug in his hands. "She hadn't left her room in a while, so I made her hot chocolate. I put it down in the wrong spot, and she got mad."

"How did your mom get mad?" Alex asked softly.

Spencer was quiet for a moment. "She yelled," he said finally. "She grabbed my wrist. And she held too hard. She spanked me. She, um...she hit my face." He kept staring down at the mug, as if he was pretending they weren't in the room. "She told me to be quiet. To stop crying. And then she, um...she left."

Alex quietly took the mug out of Spencer's hand and set it aside, then wrapped her arm around his shoulders. "And that was the last time you saw her?" Hotch asked. Spencer nodded. "Before that, did she yell at you or hit you a lot?"

"She doesn't mean to," Spencer said. He rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his palm. "She's sick. I shouldn't have made her upset."

"Honey, you didn't do anything wrong," Penelope said, her hands clasping her laptop tight. Spencer still didn't look up.

"What do you mean when you say your mom is sick?" Hotch asked.

Spencer exhaled slowly. "Paranoid schizophrenia," he said. "She was diagnosed before I was even born."

Hotch tried to keep his expression calm and unfazed. It wouldn't do the kid any good for him to show his concern. But god, he was concerned. The farther they unraveled this case, the worse it got.

"Where do you think your mother might have gone?" he said instead.

Spencer raised and lowered one shoulder. "I don't have any idea," he said. "I've been looking. I really have. I tried."

"I know you did," Alex reassured him. "I know you did your best."

"Do you think she might have tried to get in contact with your father?" Hotch asked.

"No," Spencer said immediately. "Not at all. He hasn't talked to us since I was six." He shivered, and as if he wasn't thinking about it he leaned into Alex's side. "Are you going to find my mom, Agent Hotch?"

"We're doing our best to find her, buddy," Hotch said, keeping his voice gentle. He didn't want to get Spencer's hopes up, but he couldn't lie to him either. "In the meantime, though, you can't live by yourself."

"Because Gary Michaels might be targeting me," Spencer said.

"Yes, and-" Hotch stopped midsentence. Maybe now wasn't the best time to point out to a nine-year-old that he was on the brink of eviction and his home belonged on an episode of Hoarders. "We may need to put you in the witness protection program. Do you know what that is?"

Spencer nodded. "It was established as part of the Organized Crime Control Act in 1970, but the first version of the program was made in the 1960s," he said. "There's about nineteen thousand people in witness security right now."

"That's right," Hotch said. "Now, I've got Agent Prentiss and Agent Morgan following a lead right now, but we may need to place you in witsec until we can catch Michaels. Ideally, we'll be able to locate your mother so you can be together, but if not, we may have to temporarily place you with a foster family."

Alex blinked, startled. "Is that the usual protocol?" she asked.

"Honestly, not a lot of this is standard," Hotch said. "There's a lot of special circumstances with this case. But we'll figure it out."

Spencer nodded. Hotch wasn't sure if he believed him yet, but he wouldn't blame him for being skeptical.

"Well, I'll tell you one thing for sure," Emily said as she slammed the door of the SUV. "Michaels went out of his way to get to Spencer and Riley. This place is...what, forty-five minutes from the park?"

Derek dropped the keys in his pocket. "Yeah, he was definitely trying to cover his tracks," he said.

Emily stepped back and scrutinized the house as Derek conferred with the local police, squinting in the pale winter sunlight. It was a one story ranch, mid-nineties construction, in an older neighborhood. The street was lined in leafless oak trees and a rusty chain link fence circled the small yard. They'd profiled him living in a rented location rather than a home he owned; his landlord hadn't had much to say other than he'd always paid the rent on time in the two years he'd lived there.

"He's not here," Derek called.

Emily tugged on the edge of her flak vest and followed him to the front door. "Maybe Rossi will catch him at work," she said.

"Somehow I doubt it," he said. "Looks like he left in a hurry."

Emily stepped into the house as she pulled a pair of gloves out of her pocket and tugged them on. Just like they expected, it was neat and sparsely furnished, devoid of knickknacks and personal touches. The couch was old and so was the television set up on the small side table.

"We did a sweep," Derek said. "Looks like he took the bare essentials and fled."

"Any sign of where he might have killed Riley?" Emily asked.

Derek shook his head. "I don't think he brought him back here at all, there's no sign in my initial sweep," he said. "Rossi might be right, he might've stayed closer to the park, maybe even killed Riley in his car. I'm gonna go check out the grounds if you want to keep looking through the house."

Emily nodded. "I've got it," she said.

The house was unremarkable- old but sturdy furniture, carpet that could do with a deep cleaning, beige walls scraped and marked in the soft paint. The kitchen was clean but the appliances dated; the fridge held frozen meals and canned sodas. The tiled bathroom was empty of toiletries and a single damp towel was left on the floor.

They'd profiled him as single; it was clear no one but Gary lived in the house. The bed was pushed against the wall with a faded comforter and a pillow without a case. But Derek was right, he'd left in a hurry. The closet doors and dresser drawers stood open and cockeyed, revealing empty hangers and missing clothing.

She walked into the den and frowned. There were multiple computer monitors set up on a plain desk, flanked by a scanner/copier combo and a photo printer, with an expensive ergonomic office chair placed in front of it. Apparently this was where Michaels spent all of his money.

She nudged the mouse and the computer screens flickered to life, casting neon blue light throughout the room. It was set to a password login screen, and she'd worked with Garcia long enough to know that she shouldn't try to hack it herself. In any case, she had a nauseating suspicion of what she might find on that computer, and she didn't have any interest in seeing that.

She opened the desk drawers. The top drawer held ballpoint pens and stubby pencils; the middle drawer held rubber bands and random junk. The third drawer was packed with hanging file folders and she rifled through them carefully. The first few were standard- important papers and tax information. But the rest of the folders were dated, organized by month and day with typed labels, and she caught her breath as she sorted through the contents.

She almost didn't hear Derek come in behind her. "Rossi called, Michaels didn't show up to work today," he said. "Apparently he's a model employee. Quiet, clocks in on time, doesn't cause trouble, does good work."

"Mm-hm," she said absently.

Derek crouched down beside her. "What'd you find?" he asked.

Emily pulled out one of the folders and spread out the contents. "He's been watching Spencer for months," she said quietly.

Each folder held multiple pictures of Spencer- all taken at a distance, all of them unposed candids. "Jesus," Derek breathed. "How far does that go back?"

"Almost a whole year," Emily said. "He was driving the forty-five minutes to the park at least once a week, just on the off chance of seeing Spencer."

"Is Riley in any of the photos?"

Emily shook her head. "Not exactly," she said. "He's in the background in a couple of them, along with a couple of other boys around the same age, but he was only focused on Spencer."

Derek was quiet for a moment. "I'll go call Hotch," he said.

"Call Garcia too, tell her there's a computer that needs to be hacked," she said.

Alex had never been so glad to carry so many books with her. She'd spent her adolescence lugging novels and biographies to and from the school library in her backpack; James had teased her mercilessly in their college days for carrying a book in her purse. But she had always been a voracious reader, and on more than a few occasions she'd been able to fill some downtime with a book. Now, though, it meant she had something to give to Spencer while he waited for them to decide his fate.

She glanced up from her laptop to check up on him again. Hotch had given them free reign of his office for the time being; Spencer was curled up in the corner of the couch with her copy of Jane Eyre, his feet tucked up underneath him. He looked exhausted though, his fingers pressed against his mouth and his eyes half closed. At least he seemed marginally better than he had the day before; his baggy jeans had to be warmer than the shorts he'd worn the day before, but his plain gray tee shirt swallowed him and made him seem even thinner than he already was.

"What do you think of the book so far?" she asked.

"I like it," he said. He rubbed his eye sleepily. "I haven't read much of the Bronte sisters, my mom prefers Jane Austen. But I've never really liked Austen."

"Oh, me neither," Alex said. She got up from the desk and crossed the room to sit beside him. "Austen is perfectly fine, but she's never been my favorite. The real question to me is which Bronte sister- Emily, Anne, or Charlotte?"

Spencer smiled. "I'll get back to you on that," he said. His smile faded almost as soon as it appeared. "Alex?"

She rested her hand lightly on his back. "What, sweetheart?"

"What's going to happen to me?" he asked quietly.

Alex bit back a sigh. "We're going to figure that out," she said. "The most important thing right now is making sure you're safe."

He looked up at her. "What if you can't find Gary Michaels?" he asked quietly. "Or my mother?"

Alex hugged him against her side. "Hopefully we will," she said. She brushed his hair back from his forehead. "The unknown is scary. But no matter what, we'll keep you safe."

The office door opened and Spencer jumped, pressing himself tighter against her side. "Hey, everything okay?" Hotch asked.

Alex rubbed Spencer's back. "Yeah, yeah, we're fine," she said.

"Good. Blake, can I borrow you out here for a second?" he said.

"Sure," she said. She leaned Spencer away from her gently, but she gave him a loving little squeeze as she shifted him. "I'll be right back, sweetheart."

Hotch closed the door partway behind them as she followed him into the hall. "I have updates," he said in a low voice.

"I'm guessing not good ones, by the look of it," she said.

"No. Michaels is gone. He didn't show up for work and his car is gone," Hotch said. "And Prentiss found hundreds of photos of Spencer that Michaels took."

Her heart skipped a beat. "And when you say photos-"

"Surveillance style," Hotch clarified. "He stalked him for a while before he finally struck up a conversation with him, and he kept up the photo taking after that. Blake, Spencer needs to go into protective custody. Even if Michaels is gone for now, he won't stay gone."

"What about his mother?" Alex asked. "Has Penelope found anything?"

Hotch's frown deepened. "She found...some things," he said. He glanced through the crack in the door at Spencer. "Go down to her office and talk to her about that, she only gave me a basic rundown. I'll stay with Spencer."

Alex nodded. She followed Hotch's gaze; Spencer had gone back to his book, fidgeting absently with the hem of his tee shirt. "I'll be right back," she said.

She made her down to Penelope's office, mentally running through a million possibilities of what she might have discovered. Maybe she'd found Spencer's mother. She still had her reservations about sending Spencer back with her- strong reservations- but he clearly wanted to be reunited. And if the boy had to go into witsec, maybe it would turn out for the best if he was with his own mother and not a stranger.

Penelope's lab was dim, lit by her computer screens and multiple strings of pink and blue and yellow fairy lights. Alex couldn't help but smile a little at the sight "Hey, Garcia," she said. "Hotch sent me your way, he said you found something."

"I did," Penelope said. "You might want to pull up a chair. It's a lot."

Alex frowned. "What do you mean?"

Penelope turned her chair around to face her. "So first of all, nothing on Michaels," she said. "Still working on that. But Spencer's mother-"

"Have you found her?"

"No. Not exactly," Penelope said. "I found a record of a woman matching her description who was brought to a shelter downtown three weeks ago, but she was gone the next morning."

Alex bit her lip. This was what she was afraid of. If she did have schizophrenia like Spencer said, she could be in the throes of a psychotic break. "Downtown is pretty far," she said quietly. "And that's the only thing you can find?"

"I'm checking hospitals and morgues for Jane Does."

"That's definitely worse case scenario," she said.

"That's not even all of it," Penelope said, the light glinting off her glasses. "I've found other information about Diana Reid. And Spencer."

"What did you find?" Alex asked.

"Well, Spencer's right, Diana was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia when she was twenty-one, just out of undergrad and starting her masters," Penelope said. "She married Spencer's father when she was twenty-five, Spencer was born six months later. I'm guessing he was the reason they got married in the first place."

"Any other information on the father?" Alex said.

Penelope shrugged. "His name is William, he graduated from law school, he filed for divorce when Spencer was six, and he sends child support checks like clockwork from a secured account," she said. "That's all I've got. Well, that and the fact that he still has parental rights, but not a shared custody agreement. Diana has had full custody the whole time, Spencer hasn't visited his father since he left."

"No other family?"

"Some great aunts and great uncles scattered across the midwest, but no close family, no," Penelope said. "Just the two of them for the past few years."

"So if we don't find his mother, there's no one else who can take him," Alex said.

Penelope sighed heavily. "Well," she hedged. "I don't know if sending him with his mother is the best plan either."

"Why?"

Penelope pulled up a screen on her computer monitor. "There's been...incidents," she said quietly. "Diana's gotten herself into some trouble. She was on probation at her university and the house in Las Vegas was in foreclosure. Multiple credit cards, all maxed out. Her driver's license was suspended too, she had a lot of traffic violations. And I mean a lot. And then I found the scariest one."

"What was it?" Alex asked.

Penelope took a deep breath. "When Spencer was three, Diana left him in the backseat of her car when she went to work," she said. "A sophomore walking by saw him and called the police, he almost didn't make it."

"Oh my god," Alex breathed. "I hope he doesn't remember. Did anything come from that?"

"CPS investigated, but apparently they dropped the case," Penelope said. "However, if you read between the lines like I do, it's pretty apparent that the lawyer husband talked them out of it."

Alex sat back, letting the information sink in and settle. "What about Spencer?" she asked. "Anything specific you found about him?"

"A few things that might be red flags," Penelope said. "His medical records are a mess, for one. There's no indication that he's seen a doctor since he was six, and I don't know if he's ever seen a dentist. He's so smart, though. His academic testing had him on a high school level as a kindergartener. Most kindergarteners can barely write their own name, apparently he was already reading chapter books and could do long division. He skipped second grade completely."

Alex tapped her fingertips against her chin. "Where do we go from here?" she said.

Penelope shrugged. "Probably finding him a foster family who could protect him in witsec," she said. "I don't know how on earth we'll be able to find that though, that seems practically impossible. But he can't go alone."

Alex's heart thudded against her ribs. "Can you-" she started to say. She cleared her throat. "Can you hold on for about twenty minutes? I might...I might have an idea. I just have to make a phone call."

"Yeah, of course," Penelope said. She frowned. "Is there something going on? Something I should know about? I feel like this is something I should know about."

"Maybe," Alex said. "I'll be right back."

She pulled her phone out of her pocket and clutched it tight as she walked out to the elevator. There was a distinct chance that this wasn't a good idea, that she was overstepping her bounds, that she was making a huge mistake. But she couldn't help the sudden sense of excitement bubbling up in her chest.

Outside the sky was a sharp thin blue, cold and brittle. For a moment she wished she'd grabbed her coat, but there wasn't time for that. Her fingers fumbled to pull up James's phone number.

He answered on the third ring. "Hey, beautiful, how's it going?" he said.

"It's...it's good, things are good," she said. "Have you given your presentation yet?"

"Just finished," he said. Alex crossed her arms tight over her chest, trying to keep herself warm as she looked over the parking lot. "It's kind of nice to be in New York City again. You should come up with me next time I need to stop by the Doctors Without Borders headquarters. It's been a long time since we've gone on a trip together."

"Oh, yeah, that would be great," she said.

He paused. "Something's got you distracted, Al," he said. "What's going on? Everything okay?"

"Everything's fine," she said. Her mouth went dry. "What would you think if we brought home a foster child? Today."

"Today?" James repeated. "We still haven't gotten all the way through the application process. Did something happen?"

"Sort of," Alex said. "It's kind of a long story. But there's a little boy sitting in Hotch's office right now, he's nine years old. James, he's the sweetest kid. He's so smart, and articulate, and...and he's scared. He's so scared, he's in a lot of trouble, and I can't bear the thought of him getting tossed out into witsec alone."

James didn't say anything.

"Are you still there?" she asked tentatively.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm here, I'm just figuring out how I can change my train ticket," James said. "I can get home in two hours. You're still at work?"

"Yeah, I'm still at work," she said. "You're...you're okay with this?"

"I trust you," James said.

"It probably won't be permanent," Alex warned. "He just needs to stay safe for a while."

"That's fine," James said. "I'm on my way. Keep me updated."

"I will," Alex said. "I'm going to talk to the team, there's- there's a lot of things to figure out." She pressed her hand to her temple. "Oh my god. Are we ready to have a child in our house?"

"No idea, but we'll figure it out," James said. "I'll see you soon, okay? I love you."

"I love you too," she said, and she hung up the phone in a daze.

Author's Notes:

oh man. I actually got so bummed out writing the Spencer POV section that I had to take a break. He's SO sad. and exhausted. he needs a NAP. and a MOM. but he's about to get a mom! and a dad!

let me know what you thought! the next chapter will close out the first arc, and then I'll start the next arc with Spencer adjusting to life with the Blakes! (let me know what kinds of things you want to see too)

find me on tumblr if you'd like to chat!