You were the child who was made out of glass
Who carried a black heart passed down from your dad
If somebody loved you, they'd tell you by now
We all turn away when you're down

You want to go back to where you felt safe
To hear your brother's laughter, see your mother's face

Your childhood home is just power white bone
And you'll never find your way back

You are broken and callow, cautious and safe
You are boundless in beauty with fright in your face

Until someone loves you, I'll keep you safe
But like them I will give you away

And when you're gone, will they say your name?
If not, that's okay

-"That's Okay" by The Hush Sound

Alex tapped the door open and peeked into the room. Even though it was past eleven, Spencer was still awake, lying on his stomach on the floor reading a book. He didn't seem to notice she was there.

She crept a little closer. "Why are you still awake?" she asked, and Spencer jumped guiltily, his book falling out of his hands.

"You scared me!" he accused.

"You should be in bed already!" she said. "I promised I'd come check on you, but I figured you'd be asleep."

He pushed himself to sit up. "I'm not tired," he said. "I can't sleep."

"Well, you at least need to put the book down," she said. She picked it up off the floor and frowned. "I thought you didn't like Hawthorne."

"I don't, but I ran out of books and Derek's reading The Scarlet Letter in his English class," Spencer said. "I was bored."

Alex laughed. "We'll find you more things to read when I open the library on Monday," she said. She took him by the hands and pulled him up to his feet. "Right now you need to get some sleep."

"Alex, I told you, I'm not tired," he complained.

"Humor me," she said. "Get your pajamas on and brush your teeth." He rolled his eyes. "Go on."

He stomped over to his dresser and pulled out his pajamas. "You know, seventy percent of college students get less than eight hours of sleep a night, and I'm sure they're doing fine," he said.

"You're not in college, you are nine," Alex said.

He tilted his head back to look at her. "I'll be ten soon," he reminded her.

She tapped the tip of his nose. "Still not a college student," she said. "Go brush your teeth."

"Fine," he sighed heavily. She smiled to herself as she put Derek's book back on his messy desk, then plugged in Spencer's nightlight and turned off the overheads. It was a relief to see Spencer as his usual self, even if he was a little tired and cranky. He'd been so droopy and quiet all day, a lot more clingy than she'd expected.

She sat down on the edge of Spencer's bed and yawned. The whole thing was taking its toll on her too. Having her family around was stressful. Well, maybe not her whole family. If just her mother had come it would have been easier. But trying to impress her father and keep her brothers in line was just too much.

Spencer walked back into his room and closed the door behind him, dressed in a soft tee shirt and striped pajama shorts. "I've been thinking," he said. "Wouldn't it be a lot more efficient if humans slept like giraffes?"

"Efficient, yes, but I don't think it would be particularly healthy for humans to only sleep thirty minutes a day," Alex said.

"It's not even consecutive sleep!" he said as he dropped his dirty clothes in his laundry hamper. "Typically they sleep five or ten minutes at a time, and it eventually adds up to thirty minutes."

"I don't think you could function taking five and ten minute naps," she said. "I know I certainly can't." She moved the skirt of her light blue dress out of the way and patted the bed. "Come on."

"Can I read a little bit longer?" he pleaded. She shook her head. "Okay, but if you let me stay up twenty more minutes, and if I give myself about fifteen minutes to fall asleep, then I'll get approximately seven hours of sleep, give or take."

"If you stay up to read, you'll stay up much longer than twenty minutes," she said. "And I don't think you can fall asleep in fifteen either."

"But what if-"

"Spencer, you need to go to bed," she warned. He clamped his mouth shut; she took him by the hands and tugged him a little closer. "What's wrong?"

He shifted his weight, his mouth drooping. "I don't want to go to sleep," he said. "Derek's staying with his family at their hotel so I'm all by myself. And...and usually I can go to Hotch's room, but…" His voice trailed off and he shrugged unhappily, not meeting her eyes.

Alex brushed his hair off his forehead. "If you'll lie down for a little bit, I'll stay with you for a while," she said. "And if you truly can't fall asleep, you can read. Deal?"

"Deal," he said.

She got up and pulled the covers back so he could climb into bed. "Have you tried the white noise app that Penelope put on your phone?" she asked.

"Not yet, I don't want it to bother Derek," he said, sitting up and pulling the covers over his legs.

She plugged his phone into the charger. "I think Derek could sleep through a hurricane," she said. She switched the app on and set it to soft rain sounds. "Let's give it a try for tonight, okay?"

"Did you know that they actually tell parents of newborns to not be quiet while their babies are sleeping?" Spencer said, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "It helps babies adjust to being asleep when things are happening around them."

Alex cupped his chin in her hand. "That's the last fun fact of the night," she said. "Lie down."

He huffed in irritation and flopped back against the pillow. Alex pulled the covers up around him and tucked him in. "Where's your blanket?" she asked.

"I don't need-" he began. He sighed, then pulled it out from under his pillow. "I really don't need it, you know."

"Mm-hm," she said as he settled back, hugging his blanket. "How are you feeling now? A little tired?"

"Maybe a little sleepy," he admitted. She ran her fingers lightly through his hair. "Alex?"

"What, darling?"

He was quiet for a moment. "I'm mad at Hotch," he confessed.

"You're mad at Hotch?" she said. "Why?"

"I don't think he likes me anymore."

She kept running her fingers through his hair, untangling his short curls. "Why do you think that?" she asked.

"He likes his brother more than me," Spencer said. "He spent all day with Sean and he barely talked to me and I don't think he wants me around anymore."

Alex sighed heavily. "Scooch," she said. Spencer made room for her, and as soon as she laid down he cuddled up into her side. "Hotch still likes you. He cares so much about you. I promise that just because he was distracted today it's not going to change anything."

"But he didn't want to spend any time with me today," he said.

"He hasn't seen his little brother in a few months," she reminded him gently. "He was excited to see him. And that's okay. Just because he cares about his brother it doesn't mean he cares about you any less."

Spencer snuggled closer to her. "So you don't think he's mad at me?" he asked.

"Of course not," she said. She kissed his forehead. "Will it make you feel better if I talk to him about it?"

Spencer nodded. "Can you talk to him tonight?" he asked.

"No, it's late, I'll talk to him tomorrow," she said. "You need to get some sleep."

"But I'm not sleepy," he protested, biting back a yawn.

Alex smiled as she watched his eyes slowly slide shut and blink, as if he was exhausted enough to sleep but still trying to fight it. "I love you," she said.

Spencer scrunched up his nose. "Thank you," he said, a little confused. He gave in to a yawn and shifted around until he was lying on his stomach, his cheek pressed into the pillow. "I'm going to close my eyes for a little bit."

"Sure," she said.

"And then I'm going to read for a while."

"Mm-hm," she said. She rubbed his back lightly, and slowly he stuck the corner of his blanket into his mouth, chewing on it a little bit. His breathing began to even out and slow down, and eventually he fell fully asleep.

Alex eased herself out of the bed without waking him, adjusted the blankets, and slipped out of the room, closing the door behind her. Hopefully he would actually get some sleep for once. Hotch had told her that he had been coming to his room to sleep multiple times a week; nightmares kept waking him up and he couldn't fall back asleep. She'd told him to call her if he needed backup, but he kept insisting he could handle it.

She started down the hallway, but to her surprise Hotch was at his door, fumbling with his keys. "Oh, Hotch, hey!" she said. He didn't seem to hear her. "You're back early."

He didn't look up, his keys slipping through his fingers. "Hey, can we talk for a second?" she said. "I was going to save it for tomorrow, but…"

Her voice trailed off. "Hotch!" she said, tapping him on the shoulder.

"Jesus!" he snapped. He jammed the key in the lock. "Don't sneak up on me like that."

"I didn't, I said your name at least twice," she said. "What's…god, are you okay?"

Maybe it was the dim light of the hallway playing tricks on her vision, but Hotch seemed pale and shaky, his hands trembling as he tried to turn the key. "I'm fine," he said. "Can...can we talk later?"

"Well, Spencer's upset, but...you look awful," Alex said. "Is something wrong? Did something happen?"

He coughed as he managed to get his door open. "I'm fine," he repeated. "See you...see you tomorrow."

"Hotch, I-"

He stumbled into his room. "G'night," he said, and he slammed the door in her face.

Alex pressed her fingertips to her temples and groaned. "Fine," she said. "Goodnight."

She started to turn away, but an odd noise caught her attention and she hesitated. Something wasn't right.

"Hey," she called through the door. "Are you sure you're okay?" He didn't answer, but the muffled noise from inside his room wasn't reassuring. She jiggled the handle. "Can you just open up for a second?" A freshman boy walked past her in the hallway and made a confused face at her; she shot a dirty look back at him and he hurried away. "I don't want to shout at you through the door."

She strained to listen. No answer.

"Hotch, either you open the door or I'm letting myself in," she called. He didn't answer her, and that worried her. "Jesus. Okay. I guess I'm doing this."

She pulled a bobby pin out of her hair and jammed it into the lock. The doorknob was old and cheap and it didn't take much effort to pop it open. "I told you so!" she said as she walked into his room and nudged the door shut behind her, but he wasn't there and the lights were off. She frowned. "Hotch?"

The bathroom door was left open, and she could see him sitting on the floor. "Hey, what's wrong?" she asked, and she froze in the doorway.

Hotch sat with his back to the wall, his knees pulled to his chest and his face hidden behind his hands. She could hear his breathing in rough ragged gasps, like he was on the verge of a panic attack and attempting to keep himself from falling apart. "Hey, hey, what happened?" she asked, kneeling down beside him.

He raised his head slowly. "How'd...how'd you get in my room?" he mumbled.

"Picked the lock. Please tell me what happened."

He rubbed his right eye with the heel of his palm. "Nothing," he rasped. "Nothing happened. Go away."

"You look awful," she blurted out. In the bright light of the bathroom his face was chalky white and his eyes red-rimmed. "Have you been crying?"

"No," he said, his voice thick, but she recognized the shake in his voice. A stray tear rolled down his cheek. "Can you leave, please?"

"Yeah, no, I'm not leaving until you talk to me," she said.

"You should leave, I'm gonna throw up again," he mumbled.

Alex sat up. "What do you mean, again?" she asked. "Are you sick?" She pressed the back of her hand to his cheek. "You're freezing."

Suddenly he lurched forward, shoving her out of his way, and threw up violently. Alex recoiled, wincing. Her stomach flipflopped, but she forced herself to stay calm and rest her hand lightly on Hotch's back. You will not sympathy puke, she told herself sternly. You will not. You will not sympathy puke.

Hotch flushed the toilet and slumped back against the wall, his chest heaving. "Do you feel better?" she asked.

"Not really," he said. He curled into himself, his arms crossed over his stomach and his hair falling over his forehead, trying to make himself small.

"Do you think you're coming down with something?" she asked.

"No, I just...something I ate, I guess," he said.

"Oh, yikes," she said. "Food poisoning is the worst." She stroked a lock of hair back from his forehead and he flinched. She dropped her hand. "Do you want me to get you some water or gatorade or something?"

"I'm okay," he said, rubbing his ears. "You said Spencer's upset. What's he upset about? Is he sick?"

"It's not a big deal," Alex said. "He's just a little upset."

"Upset about what?"

"Nothing." Hotch glared at her and she sighed heavily. "He's a little upset about your brother."

A shadow crossed over Hotch's face. "My brother," he repeated.

"He's...he's kind of jealous," she said. "And you did sort of ditch Spencer to spend time with Sean. But I can't blame you, he's your brother and you haven't seen him in a while." Hotch pushed himself up off the bathroom floor before she could stop him. "Where are you going?"

"I'm gonna go check on him," he said.

"He's asleep, don't you dare wake him up," Alex warned. "I already put him to bed. He's fine, Hotch."

He rubbed his right eye with the heel of his palm. "I didn't know he was mad," he said.

"He's not mad, he's just a little upset," she said. "He'll be fine by the end of the weekend, I'm sure of it." She hesitated. "I think you should sit down. You really don't look great."

"I'm fine," he said. He swallowed hard. "You should...you should go. I'll check on Spencer in the morning and-"

The last of the color seemed to drain from his face. "Hotch?" Alex asked tentatively. She stood up and took him gently by the arm. "Are you-"

Suddenly he clapped his hand over his mouth and shoved her out of the bathroom, but he didn't have time to slam the door before he dropped on his knees to throw up again.

Her stomach churned in sympathy. She wasn't quite sure what to do; she had never felt more awkward or more helpless as she stood there gawking at him. It wasn't until he started to lose his balance that she could finally move again, taking him by the arms and easing him down to sit on the bathroom floor with his back braced against the wall and the trash can in front of him. She tried not to hover, but she didn't know what to do from there.

He finally stopped, his breath still coming in ragged wet gasps, and he swiped at his mouth with the back of his hand as he sat back, his eyes glazed over. Alex sat down beside him, tucking her legs underneath her. "How're you feeling now, bubba?" she asked gently.

He inhaled deeply. "'m fine," he mumbled.

"This doesn't seem like fine," she said. "Jesus, you're so loud. You sounded like a lawnmower in a garbage disposal." Her lame attempt at a joke to lighten the mood fell flat and her faint smile faded. "You're sure it's just food poisoning?"

He hunched over, making himself small, his dark hair falling over his forehead. "It's not a big deal. I'll be fine in a day or two."

"That's still not great," she said. She brushed his hair back and he pulled away from her, curling further into himself. "So you've already been sick before this?"

He shrugged. "A couple of times," he said stiffly. "It's fine. Can you go check on Spencer for me, please?"

"He's sleeping, I swear," she said. "Out like a little light. He's fine. What can I do to help you?"

Instead of answering he grabbed onto the edge of the sink to hoist himself up. "Thanks, but...I don't think I need anything," he said. He wobbled, his knees threatening to buckle, and Alex got up quickly from the floor. "I just need to wait it out, I'll-"

"Stop doing that!"

"Stop doing what?"

She wrapped her arm around his waist, bracing him as best as she could even though he was nearly six inches taller than she was. "Every time you stand up it looks like you're about to fall over," she said. "You're making me nervous. Stop it."

"Sorry," he said, closing his eyes briefly. "I can't...really help that."

"Yes, you can," she said. She dragged him into his room and forced him to sit down on the edge of his bed. "Now sit, and stop trying to get up."

"It's not a big deal, Alex," he protested. "I'm not dying or anything, I'll get over it, I just-"

She cupped his face in her hands like she would Spencer's; he abruptly stopped midsentence and blinked in surprise. "Hi, you're puking your guts out and you can't stand up straight," she said. "Stop trying to push yourself. It's almost midnight and you're sick. Go to bed."

He stared at her, his dark eyes wide. "I...I probably have homework," he said in a small voice.

"Now's not the time to worry about that," she said. "Go to bed." She paused. "What's that on your neck?"

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

She tugged at the collar of his shirt. "You've got red welts all over the back of your neck," she said. "They look like hives. Are you allergic to something?"

She tried to pull the collar farther back to get a better look, but he pulled away from her. "I'm probably just stressed out because you won't stop interrogating me," he said.

"All right, all right, fine," she said, dropping her hands. "Get your pajamas, stop arguing, and go to bed. I'll get you some water or something. Where's the pedialyte?"

"That's for Spencer," he objected.

"You're the one throwing up, you're the one who needs it, we can buy more if we have to," she said. "Where is it?"

He let out a frustrated sigh. "It's under the sink," he said. "If I go to bed, will you leave me alone?"

"Sure," she said. "Do you want me to get your pajamas for you?"

"I'm perfectly capable of walking the six steps over to the dresser myself," he said, rolling his eyes. "Give me a minute."

Alex patted his shoulder with a teasing, condescending smile and walked over to the small bathroom. She was spending entirely too much time taking care of sick boys in this room, and she was more than a little bit over it, but at the same time, if she didn't help, they'd be left to their own devices. And she just couldn't do that.

She crouched down, moving her skirt out of her way, and poked around in the neatly organized contents of the cabinet. There were a few bottles left over from the post-hangover stash that Emily had donated; she grabbed two different options before getting up and closing the cabinet. "Hey, I found-" she started to say as she nudged the door open, but she froze.

Hotch faced away from her as he rummaged through the top drawer of his dresser, the polo shirt he'd been wearing tossed on the ground. She could see now that the hives on his neck had spread to his shoulders and his upper arms, but that wasn't the worst of it.

The worst was that his back was crisscrossed with scars.

They were clearly long since healed, white against his light skin; some of the marks were long and thin and some cut into him in broader strokes. Her heart caught into her throat and she slipped unnoticed back into the bathroom. She stood there for a moment, clutching the bottles too tightly, trying to think straight.

Should I say something? she thought. Should I ask what happened?

That wouldn't go well.

It was already like pulling teeth to ask Hotch anything; there was no way in hell that he'd ever casually discuss why his back was covered in scars. But somebody had hurt him. Somebody had hurt him badly, repeatedly, and suddenly everything seemed to make a little bit more sense.

"Hey, you can come back in, it's fine," he called.

She took a deep trembling breath and walked back out, hoping that she could keep herself pulled together. He was sitting on the edge of his bed again, and he held out his hands in a sort of mock surrender. "Happy?" he said.

"Is that a wrestling shirt?" she asked.

He pulled at the hem and looked down at it, then back up at her in horror. "Uh," he said. "Please don't tell anyone."

She smiled, and to her relief it was genuine. "I won't," she said. "I would have never pegged you for a wrestling fan, though."

"It's kind of dumb, but I've watched it since I was a kid," he confessed.

She cracked open one of the bottles, but she didn't hand it to him. "What were you like as a kid?" she asked.

He made a face. "I don't know," he said. "Just an average little kid, I guess. Why do you ask?"

"I don't know, I just think...it's interesting to know what people were like as a child, and then comparing it to how they turned out as adults," she said. "Like...learning people's middle names. It's not a big deal, but it feels like you've learned some big secret."

Hotch sort of smiled. "Edward," he said.

"Hm?"

"My middle name is Edward," he said. "I hate it. Are you going to give me one of those?"

She handed him a bottle. "Don't drink too fast," she said. "See if that helps."

"I can already tell you it won't, but maybe you'll stop fussing and leave me alone," he said, but he took a sip anyway.

"How do you know?" she asked. "I haven't had food poisoning in a while, but I'm pretty sure that hydrating and resting will help."

He shrugged. "Call it a hunch," he said. His shoulders slumped; now that he was wearing the looser tee shirt she could see the angry red rash spreading over his neck and down his collarbone. She didn't dare try to take a better look. Now it made sense why he wouldn't let her see.

"You should sleep in tomorrow," she said softly. "You look awful." He took another sip without answering her. "I'm sure no one will mind if you show up a little late tomorrow." He didn't acknowledge her. "You hear me, bubba?"

He didn't look up until she brushed his hair back from his forehead. "Hm?"

"I was saying you should probably sleep in tomorrow," she said. "Did you hear me?"

"Sorry, sometimes it's just like…" He gestured vaguely at his temples. "It's like I'm in a wind tunnel or something."

Alex ran her fingers through his thick hair and he closed his eyes. "Yeah, you definitely need sleep," she said. "You're sick and you're stressed out."

"I'm not stressed out," he mumbled.

"Yes, you are," she said. "I can tell, even if you're in complete denial."

He capped the bottle and sat there in silence, staring blankly at the floor. She stayed silent too, holding out to see if he'd say something. But he didn't speak, and it seemed like the bit of color he'd regained in his face was draining away. She sat down next to him, tucking her skirt under her legs, and they were quiet together for a little while as he slowly sipped at the drink.

"Aaron?" she ventured.

"Hm?"

"Did something happen tonight?"

He took a long, slow sip from the bottle. "No," he said. "Why?"

She raised and lowered one shoulder. "I don't know," she said. "But I...you know you can always talk to me, right?"

"Mm-hm," he said, a little too casually. "I'll keep that in mind."

He took another sip, and she wanted to shake him. There was something wrong, really wrong. But she couldn't force it out of him, and she didn't know the right words to say.

"Aaron, do you want me to call somebody?" she asked instead.

"Like who?"

"I don't know...an actual grownup, somebody who can help you better than I can," she said. "I could call my mom, or Charlie." She rubbed her thumb lightly along his jawline and he shrugged her hand away. "You know what? We should probably call your aunt and uncle. Your aunt would-"

"My aunt would what?" he said, a little too sharply.

She drew back. "She's taken care of you since your parents died, right?" she said. "I'm sure she'd be worried if she knew how sick you were."

"Somehow I doubt that," he said through his teeth. He held the bottle too tightly, his knuckles turning white. "Look, Alex, I know you're just trying to help. But I'm fine. Really. I don't need you, or James's mom, and I sure as hell don't need my aunt. I don't need anybody. I can take care of myself."

"Why?" she asked. "Why don't you need anybody? You're sixteen, Aaron, you're still a kid."

He shrugged. "Haven't needed anybody since I was ten years old," he said, and she could hear him forcing the fake lightness into his tone, as if he was as desperate to convince himself as he was to convince her. "I don't see any reason for that to change."

She grabbed him by the upper arm and gave him a little shake. "That's not okay, Aaron!" she exclaimed. "It's not! You do realize that there are people that care about you, right? You have your little brother, you have us, you have me, you have-"

"What?" he said, challenging her, but more color seemed to drain from his face, and suddenly he seemed so much younger than she'd ever seen him. "What, I have a little brother who's about to get adopted, and some classmates that I'll never see again after I graduate, and-"

"Wait, wait, who's adopting your brother?" Alex said, bewildered.

"Nothing. Never mind. Just get out, Alex."

"He's getting adopted, are you getting adopted?" she asked. His mouth trembled. "What's going on? Are you okay?"

A tear rolled down his cheek; he swiped at viciously and he turned away from her, covering his mouth with his hand. "Your little brother is getting a new family, and you're not?" she guessed softly.

A sob broke out of his chest and he buried his face in his hands. "Oh my god," she breathed. "Oh, Aaron. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Tentatively she placed her hand on his back. She half expected him to shake her off, pull himself together, tell her he was fine, but he fell against her, his head against her chest as he sobbed into his hands.

"It's okay," she whispered, running her hand through his hair. "I'm so sorry, Aaron. It's gonna be okay."

Whatever had set him off seemed to sink further into him, pulling him down like he was drowning under its weight. He cried like he was trying to force himself to stop but he physically couldn't, sinking down farther and farther down until he slid to sit on the floor, his arms folded on Alex's lap and his face hidden from her. Alex stroked his hair, gentle and steady, and she let him cry in big messy sobs, as if his heart was about to crack against his ribs.

"I'm so sorry," she kept whispering. "I'm so sorry. It'll be okay."

His sobbing began to slow, but she just kept stroking his hair until he finally sat up, his shoulders still hitching and his eyes red-rimmed. She let her hand fall to his shoulder, rubbing her thumb at the base of his neck until he began to settle down.

"Please...please don't tell anyone," he said, his voice thick.

"I won't," she said. She smoothed her hand over his hair. "Do you want to talk about-"

"No."

She kept stroking his hair, falling silent for a moment. "Okay," she said softly. "Do you want to lie down?"

He started to pull himself up, catching on her knees, and she caught his elbows. His face was pale and blotchy, his eyes red and bleary. "I think I'll do my homework tomorrow," he said, his voice thick.

"I think that's a good idea," she said. She pulled the covers back and Hotch collapsed into his bed, his head sinking into the pillow. "Don't worry about the homework." She set the bottles on the nightstand beside him. "Your drinks are right here, okay?"

"Thanks," he mumbled, his eyes already sliding shut. Hotch always looked tired, she realized, but she was used to seeing a grouchy, serious-faced almost-adult with a Red Bull in his hand. Now he just seemed like an exhausted kid.

"Do you need anything else?" she asked as she pulled the blankets around him. "Anything else I can do to help?"

"No," he said. "But...thanks, Birdy."

She touched his forehead; he still wasn't running a fever. "Sleep in tomorrow, okay?" she said. "You need the rest. And you don't have anything to worry about until the college fair at ten. I'll tell your…I'll tell everybody you have a headache. Okay, bubba?"

He didn't answer, and for a moment she thought he must have fallen asleep. When he spoke, his voice was so soft she almost didn't hear him.

"You know my mom used to call me bubba?" he whispered. "Nobody's called me that since she died."

Her heart ached. She bent over him and kissed him lightly on the forehead. "I'll call you that as much as you want," she said. "Get some sleep, okay? And call me if you need me."

"Yeah," he mumbled. "Thanks, Birdy."

By the time she left he was fast asleep, his chest rising and falling steadily, and he didn't wake as she turned off the light and closed the door behind her.

She sagged back against the wall, buried her face in her hands, and screamed as quietly as she could. This was too much. She wanted to help, she wanted to help so badly, but she didn't know what to do.

"Should we wait for Hotch?"

"No, Alex texted in the group chat and said he needs to sleep in."

"But he never sleeps in."

Hotch raised his head off his folded arms and fumbled for his phone. Just past seven. He knew it had to be morning, but he had no idea it was that late.

"Can we at least get him coffee?"

"Yeah, we can bring it back before we go to breakfast."

Hotch struggled to his feet as Spencer and Derek's voices faded down the hall. Nausea pulled at his stomach and he caught himself against the wall, closing his eyes right and breathing shallowly through his nose. For a moment he seriously debated going back to bed and at least lying down, even if he still couldn't sleep, but Sean would be getting on campus around nine, and getting coffee might help him wake up and be more functional before that. It wouldn't make him feel better, but he would at least be conscious.

He dragged himself to the bathroom to shower and brush his teeth, scrubbing the sourness out of his mouth. For a moment he almost reached for something comfortable, but he paused. His aunt would blow a gasket if she saw him in public wearing joggers and a tee shirt. So he picked khakis and a polo instead- uninspired and definitely uncomfortable, but at least Aunt Victoria wouldn't lose her mind.

He forced on his shoes, grabbed his phone and his keys, and started down the six flights of stairs to the lobby. It was slow going, his hand slipping on the railing as he tried to make his way down without falling over, and it wasn't much better when he stumbled outside. It was slightly overcast, verging on cool, but sweat still clustered at his temples by the time he made it to the student union.

The Honeybean was quiet, but a line of groggy, uncaffeinated students had formed at the register, conversations blurring with the whirr of the espresso machine and soft acoustic music that he could barely hear. He saw his group at their usual table, but he slipped into the line, his hands in his pockets. The rich burnt scent of coffee smelled wonderful and horrible all at the same time. He closed his eyes and took a long shallow breath, trying to steady himself.

A hand closed over his forearm and squeezed. "Jesus, what was that for?" he said, cracking open one eye.

Alex crossed her arms. "You're not supposed to be here," she accused.

"Why not?" he said. "I wanted coffee. That's not a crime."

"It's not, but you're supposed to be sleeping."

The cashier waved him up. "Hey, can I get a cold brew with light ice?"

Alex stepped between him and the counter, pushing her long red hair back over her shoulders. "The last time I saw you, you were puking your guts out," she said in a low voice. "You told me you have food poisoning."

"I think it's fine now," he said as he paid for his coffee.

"You want anything in it? Milk or sugar?"

"No, thanks, just plain."

"You don't look fine," Alex said. "You're gray. You're actually gray." She touched the back of her hand to his cheek. "You're still clammy. And you're sweating."

"It's hot out."

"No, it's not, it's barely seventy," she said. She frowned at him. "And your eyes are still all red and swollen."

He swallowed hard as the barista handed him his drink. "Allergies," he lied.

"Aaron," she said firmly, and he stopped in his tracks. "You're still sick. You've been crying. I bet you didn't get any sleep last night."

"No, I'm fine," he said, but his voice cracked.

"Go back to your room and get some sleep," she said. "Put the coffee down. Caffeine will make it worse. I'm sure you've got time to get some rest before your family gets here."

"Alex, I'm okay," he said. "Really. I'll drink coffee and eat some saltines or something, and I'll be fine by the time they get here. If I really need to take a nap, I can take one later. Okay?"

She bit her lip. "Okay," she said at last. "But you need to go sit down. I'm afraid you're going to fall over."

She was probably right about that, but he wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of telling her that. He trailed behind her to the table, gripping the cold brew cup a little too tightly, and sat down a little too hard into the empty chair across from her. His shoulders itched so badly it felt like his skin was burning, but he didn't dare touch the hives crawling under his shirt.

"Hey, dude, you look like shit," Emily said cheerfully. "Everything okay?"

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I'm fine," he said.

Penelope set out a stack of papers onto the table. "I made new itineraries," she announced.

JJ groaned. "You know no one's going to follow those, right?" she said.

"Besides, according to this, we're already off schedule," Derek said. "See? Right there, we should already be getting breakfast."

"We can catch up! Everybody, drink faster!"

"Yeah, no, that's not happening."

Hotch took a cautious sip of coffee, biting back a grimace. It was too sharp, too bitter, and he didn't want to drink it, but he needed the caffeine. He forced himself to swallow.

Penelope continued to chatter as the other kids bickered with her; Alex drank her coffee without commentary as Spencer yawned beside her, his hot chocolate still barely touched. He remembered her words from the night before- he's a little jealous, you did sort of ditch him.

He leaned across the table and tapped Spencer's arm lightly. "Hey," he said. "You get enough sleep last night?" Spencer shrugged. "Alex said she checked up on you last night while I was out. I'll be here tonight, though." He cleared his throat. "And I know we missed the playground this weekend, but we'll go for sure next week. And we'll get ice cream after."

Spencer smiled sleepily at that and leaned into Alex's arm, but Hotch's stomach turned involuntarily at the thought of ice cream. He kept sipping his coffee in slow, measured sips. His stomach still hadn't fully settled, and he was starting to regret it, but he couldn't throw it out now. He was committed.

His phone buzzed in his back pocket and he nearly elbowed Emily in the ribs as he dug it out. The sight of his uncle's name on the screen made his heart squeeze in his chest. "You okay, Hotch?" Derek asked.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," he said. He hit the answer call button and leaned back, trying to keep his voice down. "Hi, this is Aaron."

"I keep forgetting he has a real name," Emily snickered, and JJ giggled.

"Hi, Aaron, it's Andrew. Listen...we've had a little change in plans."

Panic ran down his spine. "What's wrong?" he asked, leaning forward without realizing it. "Did something happen? Is Sean okay?"

The rest of the table fell silent instantly. "Everything okay?" Alex whispered, but he shook his head and turned away, pressing the phone closer to his ear to hear better.

"No, no, no, everything's fine, Sean's fine," Andrew said, his voice muffled and tinny. "We've just...well, I'm sure you'll agree everything was a little chaotic last night."

Hotch dropped his gaze to stare at the table. Condensation dripped down the sides of his cup, forming a little puddle. "I apologize," he said quietly. "I...I know I didn't react very well-"

"It's fine," Andrew said, a little too briskly. "With everything going on, we think it's best that we go ahead and leave a little early."

Hotch stared at the drops of condensation, his vision going as hazy as his hearing. "How early?" he asked. "Later tonight?"

"No...we're about to leave for the airport right now, actually."

"Right now?" Hotch echoed, and he hated that he sounded like a child, wobbly and high pitched. "I mean...I'm sorry about last night, if you can tell Aunt Victoria-"

"No, Aaron, actually…"

He couldn't hear him. He gripped the phone tighter, shrinking into himself, his free arm tight around his rebelling stomach. "I'm so sorry, I didn't catch that, could you say that one more time, please?" he said.

"Actually, Sean wanted to go home early. He was going to miss a sleepover with his soccer team tomorrow anyways, so it's all for the best, I suppose."

He was going to throw up. He was going to throw up in the middle of this goddamn coffee shop while everyone fucking stared at him.

"We'll email you when we have your plane ticket home for Thanksgiving, so we'll see you then. It's been nice to see you this weekend. Take care."

He didn't realize Andrew had hung up the phone until the dial tone cut through the jumbled mess of his brain. "Hotch? Are you all right?" Derek said hesitantly.

He ended the call and set the phone down by his half-drunk coffee. "I'm fine," he said, and he didn't recognize his own voice, thin and stilted.

"Is Sean okay?" JJ asked.

"Hm?" he said. The words clicked and he picked up his drink. "Oh, no, Sean's fine." He took a long pull on the straw. "He's not coming."

"Oh, Hotch," Penelope said. "I'm so sorry."

The coffee churned in the pit of his stomach. "Why are you sorry? It's not your fault," he said.

"But you've been looking forward to him visiting, and now he's not staying," Derek said. "That sucks, man."

"Oh, no, it's fine," Hotch said. "It's fine. It was Sean's idea to not stay, so it's fine. You guys ready for breakfast?" He was talking too fast, fast as the fire burning in his stomach and crawling up his throat, steady heat unfurling in his body. "We should probably get to breakfast."

No one else was getting up from the table. "Aaron," Alex said, soft and low, and the fire reached the blood in his veins.

"What?" he challenged. "What, you have something to say?"

"Hotch, calm down," Derek said, half rising and placing a gentle hand on his arm, and Hotch pushed him away.

"Don't touch me!" Hotch shot at him. His cup slipped in his hand, the lid popping off and splashing the table with its contents. "Don't...don't touch me."

"Dude, chill," Emily said. "We'll just go to breakfast, okay? We won't talk about it."

Hotch tried to take a breath, but Alex said something too soft for him to hear, and irrational rage roared through him. "Shut up! All of you, shut the fuck up and stop staring at me!" he shouted. "Stop staring like you feel sorry for me!" He stumbled back. "I don't need anyone feeling sorry for me, okay? No one felt sorry for me when my mom died, or when they threw me and Sean in foster care, or when I got shipped out here. So I sure as fuck don't need any of you to feel sorry for me now!"

He lost his balance and caught himself against the back of a chair. The coffee shop had gone painfully silent, but no one was staring. JJ and Penelope had gone silent and wide-eyed, making themselves small, and Derek and Emily looked like they were about to spring at him out of their chairs. Only Alex was still looking at him, her gaze unreadable, and she kept her arm tight around Spencer as he hid his face against her shoulder.

"Just…" he started to say, but the heat had begun to dissipate, and the words died as he tried to catch his breath, and his stomach twisted. He turned on his heel and stumbled out of the coffee shop, the bells chiming sharply above his head. His vision blurred and he collided with a solid figure in his path.

"Hey!" a familiar voice said, and it took a second to realize that James was inches from him, his hands bracing his forearms. "Whoa, you don't look great." He tried to tell him he was fine, but he couldn't get the words out and he just shook his head instead.

James looked him up and down in concerned confusion. If that wasn't bad enough, his parents stood behind him with similar expressions. "Are you okay? Are you sick?" James pressed.

James's mother touched the back of her hand to Hotch's cheek. "Sweetheart, you look miserable," Charlie said. "You feel a little warm. Do you need anything?"

"I'm fine," Hotch finally forced himself to say. "I'm...I'm sorry. I'm fine."

He pushed past them, nearly falling into Ned as he stumbled. Lincoln House was desolate when he made it back; no one passed him as he dragged himself up the stairs, clinging almost drunkenly to the banister. His shirt was still damp with cool coffee and the smell only made the threat of nausea worse. As soon as he managed to unlock his door he collapsed onto his unmade bed. He still felt sick, but he wasn't angry anymore. He wasn't sad. He was blank and empty, nothing left within him, his thoughts shutting down completely into a bleak gray expanse of nothing as he stared at the wall, the world tilting lazily around him.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He let it ring.

JJ ran the comb through her wet hair and scraped it back into a tight ponytail. The locker room buzzed with her teammates excited to see their families after their showcase game. She only felt dread in the pit of her stomach.

I know I made a big deal about playing soccer this year, and an even bigger deal about quitting ballet, but I've thought about it and I really think I'd like to dance again.

She rehearsed it again in her mind, running through the introduction she had carefully crafted. If she could just find an opportune moment to talk to them.

"Hey, great game, JJ," one of her teammates called happily.

JJ smiled back as she picked up her duffel. "Thanks," she said, dropping the strap over her shoulder.

"You coming to the mixer tonight?"

"Maybe," she lied. "Depends on what my parents want to do."

She pushed the heavy door open, the bag bumping against her hip. Ideally her parents wouldn't want to go to the athletics mixer. Even more ideally, she could quit the soccer team that afternoon, and then she'd never have to play again.

She smiled dreamily to herself as she walked through the crowd of students and parents. "Jennifer!" her mom called, waving to her from across the way. "Over here, sweetie."

"Hi," she said, nearly breathless as she caught up to them. "What'd you think?"

"You were fantastic," Sandy said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and kissing the top of her head. "You were a star out there."

JJ looked up at her dad. "You did great," he said, but his smile was a little stiff.

Sandy rubbed her shoulder as they started to walk across campus. "I thought it would be nice if we went into town and got lunch, just the three of us," she said. She looked up at her husband. "What do you think, Roger?"

"Yeah, yeah, sounds nice," Roger echoed. His face had fallen back into grim lines- not quite frowning, but serious. "You need anything from your room before we head out, Jennifer?"

"No, I'm good," she said.

She held tight to the strap of her bag as they walked towards the parking lot, her mother asking little questions about the school as they passed unfamiliar buildings. JJ answered politely, automatically, but her stomach kept flipping. I know I made a big deal about playing soccer this year, she kept thinking, running over her lines in her head.

"...and they sure weren't kidding about the athletics here," Sandy was chatting. "I think the budget for just your team is the budget for the whole high school department back home. Why, if Ros's team had had-"

She broke off midsentence. JJ stared at the ground, watching the rhythm of her sneakers crossing cobblestones. It didn't matter how much time had passed. Inevitably someone forgot, and mentioned her, and for a split second they had her back and lost her again all at once.

"She'd be proud of you, you know," Sandy said softly. "Your sister. She loved playing soccer so much, and for you to start playing too…" A lump rose in JJ's throat. "It means...so much to watch you. You're so much like her. You look-"

"Enough," Roger said, sharp and gruff.

"Roger-"

"I said enough."

The conversation ended there. They walked in uncomfortable silence to the rental car. Roger took her soccer bag without a word and put it in the trunk of the rental car while she climbed into the backseat. She dropped her forehead against the cool window and closed her eyes as the car pulled out of the parking lot.

After a moment she heard them start to argue again, low and tense. She feigned sleep.

I know I made a big deal about playing soccer this year…

She remembered watching Rosalyn run back and forth across the field, helping her run drills in the backyard in the off season, cheering herself hoarse at games. Her soccer trophies hadn't been packed up yet, collecting dust but still sitting quiet sentinel on a shelf.

She couldn't quit now.

Emily cracked her gum as she trailed along behind the group. They all seemed so stressed about the college fair, but she didn't see the point. She'd finish out the year here, and by then her mom would probably forget why she sent her away in the first place and let her go back to school in Rome. And then maybe she'd go to college. Or maybe she'd take a gap year, travel around Europe, maybe go backpacking and revisit all the places she'd lived during her scattered childhood.

"Emily, you coming?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming," she said, picking up the pace. She hadn't realized how far she'd fallen behind. Alex stood at the edge of the path, waiting for her, her phone gripped tightly in her hand. "Are you okay?"

"Hotch still isn't answering," Alex said. "Derek said he was going to check on him when he went back to grab his football stuff, apparently he talked to him through the door but wouldn't come out."

"That was some breakdown he had this morning."

"Emily," Alex warned.

She shrugged. "What? He flipped out, threw his coffee everywhere, and stormed out."

"That's not like him," Alex said. "And last night he-" She stopped. "He's just not acting like himself at all. I'm worried."

"I'm sure he's fine," Emily said. "Don't worry. You don't need to be stressed more than you already are."

"I'm not stressed."

Emily looked her up and down. "You're dressed up," she said. "The more nervous you are, the more dressed up you get."

"I'm not dressed up," Alex protested.

Emily rolled her eyes. Today Alex was in a red gingham dress with a navy embroidered cardigan draped neatly over her arm and her hair pulled back in a neat high ponytail decked with a bow. "You look like you're about to go apple picking in 1894," she said. "And you have a full face of makeup."

Alex shrugged uncomfortably. "Well, I'm not stressed," she said. "I'm just worried about Hotch."

Emily didn't press further. Truthfully she was a little unsettled too- it wasn't like him to lose his cool like that. And no matter how much she argued, Alex was clearly stressed by her family being around, so maybe now wasn't the time to keep needling her. Although she didn't know why Alex was so upset about them being around. Her family seemed nice.

The college fair was set up in the courtyard; booths in clashing school colors covered the grounds as far as the eye could see. "How long are we supposed to stay for this thing?" Danny asked.

"It runs all afternoon," Alex said.

"We better not stay all afternoon," Danny said, rolling his eyes. "I didn't take off work just to follow you around while you stare at college shit."

"Daniel," Catherine warned.

"Crap. Sorry, Mom."

Damon turned to Emily. "He just graduated from the police academy and started on the force with me," he explained. "Kind of a family tradition. He's on the same beat I used to work when I was a rookie."

"I'm gonna go to the academy too," Scotty said. He nodded towards his sister. "Lexy here decided to buck the trend and go get her some fancy book learnin'."

He said the last bit in a fake southern drawl and Emily laughed. "Shut it, Scotty," Alex snapped.

"What about you, Emily? You into the whole academics and languages thing like my girl?" Damon asked.

"Not exactly," she said. "Definitely not the academics, but the languages kind of."

"How many do you speak?" Catherine asked.

Emily tilted her head, trying to calculate. "Uh...five, I think?" she said. "I can swear in like ten more though."

Damon laughed and patted her on the shoulder. "I like the way you think," he said.

"I'm going to go check out the Berkeley booth," Alex said, a little too loudly. "I think I see it."

Damon waved his hand. "You go take a look," he said. "I'm gonna go get a coffee or something."

"I'll go with you," Catherine said. She squeezed Alex's arm. "We'll be right back."

Alex watched them go for a moment, then headed off towards the Berkeley booth, her steps quick and decisive. "Are they giving out free shit at these booths?" Danny asked. "Let's see how much stuff we can get before they figure out we're not seniors here."

Turns out it was a lot. They traveled around aimlessly, making up outlandish backstories that the eager recruiters didn't seem to catch on to, collecting keychains and bumper stickers and even a baseball cap, all dumped into a free tote bag from some school in the northeast. Emily found herself relaxing. She didn't know what Alex was so uptight about, her brothers were fun.

"Well, I'm never gonna read this," Scotty announced, dumping a curriculum catalog into the bag.

"Save it for Lexy, she reads everything," Danny said. He snickered. "Wait, sorry. Alex. Save it for Alex. I always forget that she keeps trying to make that stick."

"We all call her Alex," Emily said. "She doesn't seem like a Lexy to me."

"Nah, she can try to be fancy all she wants, she's always just going to be Lexy," Danny said. "What's she like out here? Is she as stuck up as she is at home?"

Emily frowned. "I don't really think she's stuck up," she said. "She's, like...introverted. But she's not a bitch."

"Oh, no, she's not a bitch," Scotty said. "She just thinks she's better than everyone else." He glanced across the way at his sister standing by the Berkeley booth, cradling a stack of papers in her arms as she studied the display, and grinned. "But we've gotten pretty good at knocking her down a peg or two. Watch this."

"Oh, jesus, Scotty, not now," Danny said, but Scotty had already darted across the courtyard and snuck up behind her.

"What's he-" Emily started to ask.

Scotty carefully wrapped the end of Alex's ponytail around his hand without her noticing. "Ding dong!" he shouted cheerfully, and he pulled her hair hard enough to yank her backwards.

"Scotty, what the hell!" she yelped. Her papers fluttered to the ground as she pressed her hands to the sides of her head. "Let go of me!"

"Come on, leave her alone," Danny said, but Emily saw him hide a snicker behind his hand.

Alex stood still, staring at the ground, her hands still against her head. "Why'd you do that?" she demanded.

"Aw, come on, I was just teasing," Scotty said. "You've been at this fancy school for four years and you still haven't learned to take a joke?"

Emily bent down and picked up the discarded papers, stacking them into a messy pile, and held them out to Alex. Alex didn't move, and to her horror Emily saw her eyes were watering. "Hey," she said in a low voice. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Alex said. She swiped hastily at her eyes with the back of her hand and grabbed the papers back. "I guess we can go now."

"God, finally," Danny said.

Emily looked from Alex to her brothers. She wasn't sure what to do, but thankfully she caught sight of a familiar figure walking towards them. "Hey, James is here," she said.

James could smooth things over, he was good at things like that, especially when it came to Alex. He was holding Spencer's hand, and Spencer was chattering happily to Ned and Charlie, who seemed to be listening intently. "Hey, Blake!" Emily called. "There you are!"

Spencer stopped in midsentence and ran right to Alex. She caught him tight in her arms and picked him up, destroying what was left of her papers. "Sorry we're late, we got a little caught up," James said. "Mom and Dad wanted to see Spencer's science class demonstration."

"We didn't do anything cool with van de graaff generators when I went to this school, we just built volcanoes with baking soda lava," Ned said.

"Really? I've done that with my kindergarten class," Charlie said.

"I've never made one," Spencer objected as Alex shifted him on her hip.

"Maybe next weekend," Alex promised, and he brightened.

James frowned. "Everything okay, Alex?" he asked. "You look-"

"My mom and dad just went out to get coffee," she said. "They should be back any second, and then we're probably going to head out."

Ned held up an info folder. "We've already picked up everything from UCLA and Stanford," he said. "Jamie, anywhere else you want to look at?"

"Uh...maybe Berkeley too," he said. "While we're here, I guess."

"Oh, of course," Charlie said. "While we're here, I suppose."

Damon and Catherine walked back over to them, to go coffee cups in their hands, and Damon had a folder under his arm. "There you are," he said. "Grabbed something for you."

Alex set Spencer down and took the folder, then looked up at her father. "University of Missouri?" she said in a small voice.

"Just something to think about," he said. "You know. A lot closer to home. You probably wouldn't even need to live on campus. You can have Danny's old car and commute."

"Hey, I was supposed to get his car!" Scotty protested.

"I don't...I don't want to live at home and go to UOM," Alex said. She looked from one parent to another, stricken. "I haven't even planned on applying there."

"I know you're saying that now, but really, princess, be a little more practical," Damon said. "I talked to the guy, you've got lots of time to apply."

Emily glanced away, sliding her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. "Can...can we not talk about this right now?" Alex said desperately. "Please."

Damon opened his mouth. "Of course, sweetheart," Catherine said. "We don't have to discuss it right now." Alex nodded. "Anywhere else you wanted to look?"

"No, it's fine," she said. "It's...it's fine."

The tense moment faded, the adults striking up a conversation as Spencer sidled up to Alex again and the Miller boys whispered to each other, laughing behind their hands. Emily exhaled slowly. Family weekend couldn't end fast enough.

"Mom!" Derek called, dodging around the crowds. "Mom! Did you see me?"

Fran laughed and opened her arms to catch him in a hug. "Of course I did," she said. "You did so well. All that hard work over the summer paid off, didn't it?"

Derek beamed. "Coach thinks I have a lot of potential," he said.

"I'm sure he does, otherwise he wouldn't have had you play quarterback," Fran said. She wrapped her arm around his shoulders and rubbed his upper arm. "I'm so proud of you, honey."

"Do you want to meet him?" Derek said. He glanced across the gym. "He's right over there!"

Fran checked her watch. "As long as it's quick," she said. "Sarah and Desiree wanted to go see your friend Penelope sing with her choir and that starts in about half an hour."

"It'll be quick!" Derek said. He took off and jogged across the gym. "Hey, Coach!"

Coach Buford looked up from his clipboard and smiled. "Hi, Derek," he said. "You looked great out there in the exhibition game. Made me proud."

"Thanks," Derek said, grinning as bright as he could. The praise warmed him all the way down to his fingertips. "I thought I messed up that one drill, but it all worked out."

"That's because you're smart," Coach Buford said. "You used your head out there and stayed cool under pressure. Takes a talented player to do that. You keep up that sort of thing, you'll be captain by next year."

Derek smiled so wide his face hurt. "Thank you," he said. "Uh...Coach, this is my mom, Fran. Mom, this is my coach."

Coach Buford turned to her and held out his hand. "Carl Buford," he said. "Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Morgan. Your son's got some real talent, he's been a huge asset to our team."

"Thank you," Fran said. "He's loved football his whole life and he's worked really hard." She smiled at Derek. "Worked really hard for a lot of things, actually, since his father died. Getting accepted to St. Thaddeus has made a world of difference for him."

"Derek told me about your husband's passing, I'm so sorry," Coach Buford said. "I've told Derek if he ever needs anything while he's out here, football related or otherwise, he can always come to me. I'm more than happy to look out for him."

Fran smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Thanks, that's very thoughtful," she said. "Derek, honey, let's go find your sisters, okay?"

"Okay," he said. "I'll see you at practice on Monday, Coach."

"See you then," he said, offering a slight wave as they walked away. "Have fun with your family while they're visiting, okay?"

"I will!" Derek called. His mother was walking a little faster than she usually did; he matched his strides to her. "Coach is so cool. He's given me some one on one training. Look how big my biceps are getting." He flexed proudly, but Fran took his other hand as if he was a child and he dropped his arm. "What?"

"Nothing," Fran said. "It's just…" She paused.

"Do you not like Coach?" he asked.

"No, no, he seems like a very nice man, but-" Fran sighed. "I don't know. Just promise me something, baby, okay? If you ever have something that makes you feel uncomfortable- they say something, or do something, or-" She cut herself off midsentence and squeezed his hand. "Just promise me you'll tell somebody. Okay?"

"I will," he said. "Mama, nobody's ever done anything that's made me feel uncomfortable. I promise."

"I just worry," she said. "You're out here without me. I can't help it." She squeezed his hand again. "Just remember that grownups are supposed to be grownups. They're not supposed to be your best friends."

He nodded, frowning a little. He was taller than his mother, he realized. He couldn't remember when that happened.

"Oh, don't look at me like that," Fran said. "Let's find your sisters and go to the concert."

"Okay," he said, but as they walked he relaxed his grip on his mother's hand until his fingers slipped away. He was too old to have his hand held like that.

"Why couldn't they let us just wear our own clothes!" Penelope complained. "You guys, I looked so cute earlier."

One of the sophomores from her section laughed. "It could be worse, we could be in our choir dresses," she said. "Thank goodness they're on backorder."

"They can't be that bad, can they?" Penelope asked.

"Floor length, polyester, and the weirdest shade of blue you've ever seen."

Penelope groaned and tugged on the hem of her blazer. "So maybe it's not so bad if we have to wear our uniforms," she said. She leaned closer to the mirror and checked her eyeshadow, brushing at the edges with the pad of her pinky finger. Her grandmother would have a fit if she wore the amount of makeup she usually wore (you're thirteen, Penny, you shouldn't be wearing makeup, what would your poor mother think?) but there was no way she could go onstage with nothing. She'd look so washed out.

But her thoughts caught her off guard and paused, her mind drifting as she stared, unfocused, at her reflection. Her mother probably wouldn't mind if she wore makeup. One of her earliest memories was staring at makeup palettes and her mother letting her test out different shades of eyeshadow on the back of her hand- neon pink, purple glitter, teal shimmer. If her mother was still there, she would have taught her how to put makeup on herself, rather than learning from YouTube tutorials. She would have gotten her lip glosses and nail polishes on her birthdays, she'd do her makeup before school dances and picture day, they'd have self care spa days like moms and daughters in 2000s TV movies- goopy green face masks and cucumber slices on their eyelids.

"Hey, Penelope, we need to line up."

Penelope shook her head and blinked herself back into reality. It had been so long since her mother and stepfather had died that it was no longer a fresh sharp hurt, it was a thought that was compact and easy to carry. And her grandparents loved her and took care of her, there was no hungry sense of something wanting. But sometimes the memories spilled over and made her seasick.

"I'm coming," she called, her heels clattering on the green room floor as she ran for the wings. The head of the arts department was speaking to the assembled grownups in the audience of the stage; Penelope found herself a little corner of the wings where she could see past the black curtains into the little circle of light.

"Hey," a voice whispered. Penelope twisted around until she could catch sight of Haley, her pretty face shadows in the dimness of the backstage. "I have a question for you."

"If it's about the soprano 2 line in the Whitacre piece, I have no clue, I just sing along with whatever the person next to me is singing."

Haley laughed quietly, soft and papery. "Well, that too, but that's not my question," she whispered. "Have you seen Aaron?" Penelope's stomach twisted. "I've been looking for him everywhere."

"I haven't seen him anywhere," Penelope whispered back. She could still hear him yelling in the coffee shop, his voice cracking and breaking, his shirt splattered with coffee. "He probably has to do RA things or something."

"Oh," Haley said. "That's so sad. I know his brother was in town, he's probably bummed to not spend much time with him." The director finished his speech to polite applause from the parents, and the first row of the choir started to make their way to the stage. "When you see him, can you tell him I was looking for him? I was hoping he could meet my family, and I could meet Sean."

Penelope slipped into her spot in line. "I'll try," she said, and she followed the rest of her row from the wings to the risers. Her heels wobbled a bit as she found her footing and squinted into the house. Her grandparents were easy to spot; her grandfather was holding up his camera to film. For a moment she pictured her mother and stepfather instead, beaming at her with all of the other moms and dads, but she gritted her teeth and made her brain reset. She was lucky to have her grandparents there. Luckier than most. And she was grateful for that.

The director raised her hands to start the song, and she forced herself to focus on singing instead of her jumbled up thoughts.

"Alex, come on, I'm starving," Emily whined.

Alex fumbled for the zipper of her dress. "You can go without me, you know," she said, shimmying out of the dress and leaving it in a puddle on the floor. "We don't have to do everything together."

Emily rolled over on her unmade bed so she was tilted upside down over the edge. "I don't want to walk by myself," she said. "How many more dresses are you going to try on tonight, Miller? Jesus. It's like an Anthropologie clearance rack in here."

Alex gritted her teeth. "I wouldn't know, I don't have the budget to stop at Anthropologie," she said. She grabbed another dress and yanked it down from her closet, letting the hanger swing drunkenly. "Just go. I'll meet you there."

"You mean you can't even shop from the clearance rack in Anthro?" Emily said. "Not that I know what it's like. I wouldn't be caught dead in this vintage shit. I've gone shopping with my mom there though and-"

"Can you just shut up?" Alex snapped. She unzipped the dress so sharply that she paused to check if she'd broken the pull. "If I wanted to be insulted, I'd go hang out with my brothers."

"They're really not that bad. And I'm not insulting you, I'm just teasing."

Alex threw the dress back into the closet as hard as she could; it slid down the wall to the floor in the most unsatisfying way possible. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" she said.

Emily pushed herself to sit up. "I don't mean anything by it," she said. "I'm just joking around."

"Oh, you're just joking, of course," Alex said as she dug around in her drawers. "Well, in that case, that fixes everything. Never mind, then." She pulled on a pair of jeans that she hadn't worn since last winter and reached blindly for a tee shirt. "Go on. What else do you want to joke about?"

"Jesus, Alex," Emily said. "What's wrong?"

Alex straightened out the hem of her tee shirt. "Nothing," she said. She dragged her fingers through her hair, carding at the curls until they were gone, and gathered it up into a pile on top of her head. Emily slid off her bed and stood behind her, watching her in the mirror as she snapped a thick elastic around it. "What?"

"Does this seriously bother you?" Emily asked. "Like...I get the hair pulling thing, that wasn't cool and he shouldn't have done that. But the rest-"

Alex jabbed a bobby pin into her hair to catch a loose strand that didn't make it into the rest of the messy bun. "What about the rest?" she said. "Do you mean the teasing about how my family thinks I think I'm better than them? The digs about how I don't want to live in fucking Kansas for the rest of my life? The insults about the things I like? Or maybe you mean about how my dad ignores everything I have to say because he complains about how he just doesn't understand girls?" She jammed her feet into a pair of sneakers. "Whatever. It's fine. Let's go."

"Listen, Alex, you're not the only person with parents who don't get you or siblings who tease you, that's the plot of like every teen movie in the past twenty years," Emily said, following her to the door. "They're not that bad, you're probably just-"

Alex spun around. "I'm what, Prentiss?" she said. "Oh, I'm doing something wrong, and that's why they treat me like this?" Emily tilted her head, sympathetic and patronizing, and Alex saw red. "So it's my fault my brothers are such assholes and my dad acts like he can't hear a word I say, but you show up and they think you're so cool, and so funny, and they like you more after a couple of hours than they've liked me in my entire life."

Emily's eyes narrowed and Alex turned to fumble for the doorknob. "You're on thin ice, princess," she said, sliding in front of her. "You wanna trade? You wanna play that game?"

"Sure, why not?" Alex said. "I can travel around Europe with an unlimited credit card? Sounds fucking fantastic."

"Yeah, I'd trade that in for a family that cares enough about me to come visit my stupid boarding school for a whole weekend," Emily said. "You know that I don't know anything about my dad, right? It's been me and my mom and a recurring succession of personal assistants my whole life. She won't tell me anything about him. Not even his name." Alex took a step back. Emily planted her feet, blocking her way to the door, her hands on her hips. "I know this could turn into a game of whose life sucks more, and that's not what I'm going for. And I'm…" She took a deep breath, as if she was about to say something she'd never said before. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry that your family's been shitty to you, and I'm sorry I didn't say anything about it to stop them, and I'm sorry that I made you feel bad. I swear I didn't do it on purpose. Okay?"

Alex's shoulders sagged. "Okay," she echoed. "I'm sorry. I...I didn't mean to freak out. It's kind of a sore spot."

"Yeah, I guessed as much," Emily said. "But don't feel bad about freaking out. Everybody's been having a rough time. Now can you please put on some lipstick or something so you at least look vaguely like my roommate, and not a complete stranger? I can't believe you're wearing jeans."

Alex laughed despite herself. "I hate them," she confessed. "But I'm tired of changing. And we're running late."

She put on the lipstick Emily offered and followed her out of their dorm room, grabbing a cardigan and her keys at the last second. "Speaking of freak outs, have you heard from Hotchner?" Emily asked. "I haven't seen him since he exploded his coffee this morning."

"No, nothing," Alex said. "I've been calling and texting him, but he won't answer. I haven't had time to go over there and check on him. Derek did after lunch, he said Hotch told him he was doing homework and didn't want to talk."

"What do you think got him so worked up?" Emily asked. "And what the hell was he talking about? Foster care? I thought he lived with his aunt and uncle."

"I'm not completely sure," Alex said, avoiding her gaze. "I know he's had...anger issues in the past. Maybe he was just under a lot of pressure this weekend."

And food poisoning, she thought, but she wasn't about to tell Emily that.

They walked out of Roosevelt House together. It was getting dark and the early October air was a little sharper than she expected. Alex pulled the cardigan on and fastened the top buttons as they walked towards the gym. The school had set up a pizza and movie night- maybe that would be low stress enough for her to relax.

She found her mother waiting for her right outside the entrance. "There you two are," Catherine said. "I was just about to call you."

"Sorry, things were a little hectic," Alex said.

"Go on in, I think they're starting the movie soon," Catherine said. Emily headed inside immediately, but Catherine caught Alex's sleeve. "Are you all right, sweetheart? You seem a little off kilter."

"I'm okay," Alex said quickly. "It's just...you know. Dad. And the boys."

"I've already talked to your dad about backing off of UOM," Catherine said. "I keep telling him, you've got a good head on your shoulders and you won't bite off more than you can chew. What have the boys been up to? Anything worse than usual?"

Alex shrugged. "More of the same, I guess," she said.

Catherine sighed heavily and shook her head. In the dim light her mother looked older than she remembered, more frail. "I spent your whole childhood trying to keep you kids from killing each other," she said. "But your dad-"

"Boys will be boys, they're just teasing," Alex quoted. She tugged the cuffs of her cardigan over her hands. "Remember when Danny tore my copy of Anne of Green Gables in half, and when I tried to punch him he hit me in the face and gave me a nosebleed?"

"Oh, I remember," Catherine said. "You called me at work and you were crying so hard I couldn't make out a single word you were saying. I could hear Danny shouting in the background 'I'm sorry! I'm sorry! That means don't tell Mom!'"

Alex sort of smiled. "I had black eyes for a week after that," she said. "And he told me he'd get me a new copy for my birthday but he never did. I had to tape mine back together."

Catherine pulled her into a little side hug. "You've always been my stubborn, independent girl," she said. She brushed a lock of hair away from her cheek. "I know you're focused on school, and most parents would never say this, but it probably wouldn't hurt if you were a little less stubborn and had a little more fun."

"I have fun," Alex objected.

"I mean normal teenager fun," Catherine said. "Go to parties, do things with your friends that aren't just studying, go on dates. You're allowed to date if you'd like, you know, your dad is just bluffing about shooting any boys you bring home."

Alex rolled her eyes. "He's been saying that since I was in kindergarten and I wish he'd stop, it's gross," she said.

"Really, though, Alex, maybe it would be nice if you went on dates or hung out with your friends more often," Catherine said. "It's your last year of high school, have a little fun."

Alex sighed. "I have fun, but fine," she said. "I'll try."

"That's all I ask," Catherine said.

They walked inside the darkened gym as the movie started. She caught sight of James and Spencer in line at the drinks cooler and slipped away from her mom to join them. "There you guys are," she said.

James lit up. "I haven't seen you since breakfast," he said. He frowned. "Are you okay? I haven't seen you in jeans since sophomore year."

"Yeah, I'm fine," she said. She ran her hand over Spencer's hair. "How are you doing, sweetheart?"

Spencer tilted his head back to smile at her. "I'm good!" he said. "Ned says we can come over to the bakery next weekend and he's going to let me experiment with his sourdough starter. Did you know that scientists were able to bake bread from a yeast scraped from ancient Egyptian pottery? It was 4500 years old!"

"That's interesting," Alex said. "Have you had dinner yet?"

"Not yet, but they've got candy!" Spencer said, holding up a bag of Skittles in each hand.

"Slow down, kiddo, you'll make yourself sick," James said, laughing.

"I'm only going to eat one, I'm saving the other for Hotch. Is he coming?" Spencer asked hopefully.

"I haven't seen him, baby," Alex said. "He had a tough morning, I think he needs some time to himself. I'll walk you back to your dorm tonight and tuck you in again, how about that?"

Spencer nodded. Alex ran her fingers through his hair again and bit back a heavy sigh, suddenly so tired that she could probably lie down on the gym floor and doze off.

"You sure you're okay?" James asked. She nodded, biting back a yawn. He handed her a can of soda, ice clinging to the sides as his fingertips brushed hers, and she smiled at him.

"...so once you've made the sourdough starter, you have to keep feeding flour and water so the yeast doesn't go inactive, because if the yeast goes inactive-"

"Tell me about bread in the morning, sweetheart. You have to go to sleep."

Spencer sighed. "I thought I could stay up late tonight."

"It is late, it's past eleven," Alex said. She sat down on the edge of his bed. "Now lie down, okay?"

"I'm not tired," he informed her.

"Well, I'm tired, and I can't go to sleep until I know you're tucked in," Alex said. She patted the pillow. "Come on."

He reluctantly climbed into bed and she pulled the covers up around him, tucking him in snugly. "Do you think Hotch will come out of his room tomorrow?" he asked.

"I hope so," she said. She smoothed the comforter around him. "He's just having a rough time right now. He'll be back to his usual self soon, I know it. And he's not mad at you. He just needs a little time, that's all."

He nodded. He had questions, but he didn't think she could answer them.

Alex bent over him and kissed his forehead before handing him his blanket. "I have your nightlight on, do you want to sleep with the white noise app again?" she asked.

"Yes, please," he said.

She turned off the overhead lights and set the app on his phone, making sure it was plugged in. "Good night, Spencer," she said.

"Wait!" he called, bolting upright. "Wait, can you stay with me until I fall asleep, please?"

He couldn't see her face clearly in the dark, but she laughed softly. "Okay, okay, move over," she said. He scooted over to make room for her, and as soon as she was lying down he curled up against her, pressing his cheek into her cardigan as she wrapped her arm around him. "Is that better?"

"Uh-huh," he said. Alex kissed the top of his head and tugged him a little closer so she could rub his back. He yawned. It was so strange. Just a few months ago he hated being touched. Maybe it was different when people cared about him.

He started to doze off as Alex kept running her hand up and down his back, but before he could completely fall asleep she got up slowly, kissed him on the cheek before she tucked him back in, and crept out of his room.

Spencer stared up at the ceiling. He was still comfortable and warm, but now he wouldn't be able to fall asleep. He hadn't been awake enough to tell her to stay again, but now he was definitely too awake.

His mind clicked into overdrive, like it usually did when his insomnia struck. He fidgeted aimlessly, twisting his blanket around his fingers. His thoughts circled back to the question he'd had all day, and before he could stop himself he got out of bed and wandered down the hall, squinting at the light.

Hotch's door was closed. Spencer knocked anyway.

No one answered, and he knocked again.

"I'm busy, is it important?" Hotch called through the door.

Spencer rocked up on his toes, relieved to hear his voice. "It's me," he said.

"Not now, Spencer."

He leaned closer to the door. "Please?" he asked.

There was a long pause, and then he heard the lock click. Hotch didn't tell him to come in, so after a moment Spencer let himself in and peeked into the room.

Hotch was sitting back down at his desk, dressed in a plain tee shirt and joggers, his math homework spread out around him. "What's going on?" he asked, not looking up from his textbook.

"Um," Spencer said. His resolve was fading fast.

"Are you sick?" Hotch asked. "Want me to call Alex?"

"Earlier," Spencer said. "Um...earlier, you said-"

Hotch set down his pencil, but didn't look at him. "Spencer, I'm sorry I yelled this morning," he said. "I shouldn't have done it, and it won't happen again. I'm very sorry. Can you forget about it and go back to bed?"

"You said...you got put in foster care," he said.

Hotch ran his hand through his hair. "Yes," he said. "For a few months, after...my dad passed away. There were some legal issues before our aunt and uncle could take us. It's not a big deal. Don't worry about it. Go to sleep."

Spencer's heart thudded against his ribs. He'd been told not to tell anybody, but he figured it didn't matter quite as much as it did before. "Was it a group home, or parents?" he asked.

Hotch picked up his pencil. "Sean and I stayed with foster parents," he said. "It's late, Spencer, go to sleep."

"I was in a group home."

That was it. He couldn't take it back.

Hotch turned around. "What?"

Spencer swallowed hard. "Um...they put me in a group home," he repeated. "I was in foster care in a group home, and so when you said you were in foster care, I just..wanted you to know that I know what it's like."

"When?" Hotch asked. "Before you came here?" Spencer nodded. "How long?"

"Nine months," he said. "Well, almost nine months, it was…"

"Spencer, did you run away?" Hotch asked. "What happened?"

His homework was clearly forgotten. Spencer looked down at the floor. "My mom's sick," he said in a small voice.

"What do you mean, sick? Does she know you're here?"

Spencer shook his head. "She was sick before I was even born," he said. "She was diagnosed with-" He took a deep breath to brace himself. "She was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia."

Hotch was watching him closely, steady and serious, and somehow it was easier to explain that he ever thought it would. "She hadn't gone to work in a really long time, and one of her colleagues called for a wellness check," he said. His heart squeezed. He hadn't thought about that day in a long, long time. "It was finals week. Right before Christmas. They took her to a hospital and they put me in a foster home and...no one ever came to get me."

"And your dad couldn't help you?"

"He left when I was little," Spencer said. "He didn't want either of us."

"How did you get all the way out here?" Hotch asked.

"There was an older kid that helped me," Spencer said. "Ethan. I came up with the idea of finding a boarding school, and he helped me look for scholarship applications. I couldn't stay there. I couldn't, I couldn't do it." His eyes welled up despite himself and he swiped at his cheeks hastily. He'd promised Ethan he wouldn't cry. "My mom had a credit card with some balance left on it, I used that to get my plane ticket out here."

"And no one's tried to find you?"

Spencer shook his head. "There's nobody who would look for me," he said.

Hotch was very quiet for a moment, long enough that Spencer felt the first tremors of panic in the pit of his stomach, but finally he beckoned him forward. "C'mere, kiddo," he said, and Spencer allowed himself to be pulled into a tight hug. "You don't have to worry about that anymore, okay? Someone will always come looking for you. I promise. I've got you."

Spencer leaned his head on his shoulder. "I know you're mad about a lot of things," he said. "I just wanted you to know that I kind of know what it's like too."

Hotch hugged him tight. "Thanks, kid," he said, his voice thick. Spencer dropped his forehead into the crook of his neck. He'd been holding onto all of that for so long, and now he felt so tired.

Author's Notes:

I HAVE RETURNED

I have been on a super long hiatus, mostly because of work. It's been absolutely nuts. And also...I got engaged at the end of April! So life has been super busy and it's been keeping me from writing, but I'm so excited to be back writing and posting again. I'm also working on my current original novel outline too!

Please let me know what you thought of this chapter! I know it's been a HUGE break in chapters, but hopefully you're still enjoying it and you were looking forward to this update. Reviews would mean so much to me!