"The first things that she took from me were selfishness and sleep, she broke a thousand heirlooms I was never meant to keep. She filled my life with colour, cancelled plans and trashed my car, but none of that was ever who we are."

- Brandi Carli, 'The Mother'.

"Aaron." Her voice was warm, familiar, but not quite strong or urgent enough to pull him out of his slumber.

For most of his life, Aaron Hotchner had been a light sleeper. Always on high alert for an unprecedented work call and, later, the high-pitched, mewling cries of his children, he hadn't been able to fully relax into unconsciousness since his teenage years. In recent years, however, ever since his early retirement from active duty, in part due to injuries sustained at work and in part due to wanting to finally dedicate most of his time to his family and life at home, he had become a much more restful, relaxed person.

So it was that Emily had to raise her voice and roughly shake his shoulder to rouse him from sleep as his phone buzzed on the nightstand.

"Aaron!" She said, irritated by his ability to sleep soundly through it. Perhaps, when she retired in the next few years, she would achieve the same level of zen.

Emily sincerely doubted it.

Finally, though, after a particularly vicious punch to his arm, her husband blinked awake, bleary eyed and confused, with a mumbled, "Wassup?"

"Phone." Emily told him, falling back against her pillow, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes and seeing stars.

Uncoordinated in his half asleep state, Aaron sat up, grasping for his phone, tiny in his hand, and blinked at the light as the screen flashed a name up at him.

Olivia

"It's Livvy," The clock read 2:30am and he was suddenly as awake as he had ever been, as was his wife beside him, already climbing out of bed and searching through the sheets for the sweats she had taken off only hours ago.

"Liv?" He answered the phone, his voice terse, and was immediately greeted by what sounded like a mewling cat on the other end.

"Daddy," His crying daughter said in relief, "Daddy, I'm s-sorry it's s-so late." She was stumbling over her words, having worked herself into such a state, and by the slurring, Aaron could tell that she was drunk.

Already up and pulling trousers on, the phone balanced between his shoulder and his ear, Aaron let his wife take it and put it to her ear, as he finished dressing.

"Olivia, where are you?" Emily demanded of her daughter; no pomp or ceremony, and Aaron knew that, right now, Emily would not appreciate being told how much she reminded him of Elizabeth in those moments when she took a no-nonsense attitude with their children. Come to think of it, he didn't think there would ever be a right moment to tell her that.

"Mommy," Livvy's crying became more hysterical at Emily's voice and she collapsed into tears on the phone.

"Are you still at Sophie's?" Emily asked, already knowing the answer, and Olivia's sobs only confirmed it. Emily closed her eyes, biting back the reprimand that rose to her lips. "I have your phone linked to my Find your Iphone," she said, instead, "Just stay where you are and stay on the phone."

In their experience and line of work, a crying, drunk nineteen year old was a red flag, a cause for concern, and when it was their daughter, neither of them hesitated which was why, fifteen minutes later, they had pulled up outside of a dingy club that, from the outside, was nothing more than a red metal door on a wall full of graffiti, to find their youngest daughter sat in the rain, on the freezing cold floor, heels at her side and mascara on her cheeks.

She had stopped hysterically crying, instead being reduced to pathetically sniffling and as they pulled up, she hung up the phone. Aaron climbed out of the driver's side to bundle her up in his coat and Emily got out to open the back door. Livvy didn't even look at her mother as she climbed into the car, and Emily and Aaron shared a glance over the roof. Emily opened her mouth, furious and concerned in equal measure, but one look from her husband and she was restrained and, in that way, she was completely different to Elizabeth.

The drive home was completely silent, aside from the occasional sniffle from Livvy.

"Straight to bed, young lady," Aaron told his barely adult daughter as they stepped into the house, though he needn't have. "And try not to wake your brother."

Livvy dropped heels Aaron had never seen before at the bottom of the stairs, where they clattered on the wood, and Emily turned to Aaron, a furious expression on her face. He shook his head, and, to her credit, she said nothing. She chewed her cheek, folding her arms across her chest tightly as she shook her head, disapprovingly at her daughter's retreating frame. She turned to Aaron, shaking her head more vigorously in an I can't believe her kind of way, and walked past him, into their kitchen.

Aaron watched Livvy disappear onto the landing, and waited for the click of her bedroom door closing, before following her mother into the kitchen.

"I can't believe her," Emily gave voice to the expression that had been on her face since they'd picked Liv up off the curb. She was clanging around the kitchen. She went into the glasses cupboard and, finding the shelf completely empty, slammed it shut with a bang. "She's so irresponsible. Out, at her age, dressed like that-" She was sounding like Elizabeth again, but there wasn't a chance in hell Aaron was about to tell her that. Finding the dishwasher was also bereft of glasses, Emily slammed that, too. "I'm so sick of having a house full of teenagers who never bring down their dishes," She shouted at the ceiling, unaware that it was 3:30am and Aaron approached her, taking her shoulders in his hands, rubbing gently to soothe her.

"You'll be lost in two years when Alex goes off to college and we've got an empty nest for the first time." He said, and Emily didn't reply because she was annoyed that he was right. He leaned his face against her hair, kissing her head. "What do you need a glass for?"

"To take your daughter a drink." She said, shortly, and Aaron smiled against the back of her head.

"She's your daughter, too, Emily." He said, going back to the dishwasher and taking out a mug. He filled it with water and crushed ice from the dispenser.

Emily was shaking her head, her lips pressed together in a tight line. He set the glass down in front of her and Emily regarded it a moment before she lifted rich brown eyes to his and shook her head. "Ava was never this difficult."

"Yes, well, sometimes I think Ava is too much like me for her own good." Aaron said, leaning his forearms against the counter.

Above them, they heard the familiar groan of the pipes that told them Livvy had started running her shower.

"And Olivia is too much like me." Emily pointed out, with a heavy, impatient sigh. She chewed her lip again, contemplating, then looked at him with sad eyes. "What is she punishing me for, Aaron?"

The question took him aback and he frowned at her. "What?"

"When I acted out the way she does, it was because I was trying to punish my mother. For being absent, for being present. For making me move or making me stay. For my dad not being there, or for making me see him. So what is Olivia punishing me for?"

"Baby," Aaron moved closer to her, wrapping strong arms around her shoulders. Emily rested her hands on his arms, the fabric of the fleece he'd pulled on soft beneath her fingers. "I don't think Liv is punishing you. If she was, I don't think you would have been her first port of call tonight."

"I wasn't," She murmured against his chest.

"What?"

"I wasn't," This time, her voice broke a little and Aaron thought he might have to deal with two crying Hotchner women this evening, "You were."

She had him there and he took a moment before speaking again.

"Livvy is a spirited, outgoing, social girl. She has been all of those things since before she could even talk, so I don't think it's about punishing you, darling. Really. I think she's trying to find herself." He raised a hand to stroke at his wife's soft hair, "She's got you and Ava and Elizabeth to live up to. Not to mention the others; JJ and Penelope and Tara and Kristy. She's surrounded by so many women she's aspiring to be like and I can't imagine that's easy."

"I don't compare her to Ava," Emily defended and Aaron chose not to point out that she had done just that not five minutes before.

"Let's just give her the benefit of the doubt for tonight," Aaron suggested, "And try to talk to her."

"I'll go," Emily said. Above them, Liv's shower groaned as she turned off the water, and they both cast a glance to the ceiling. "You get yourself to bed, I'll be up soon." She kissed him, then turned to pick up the glass from the counter and headed up the stairs.

Olivia's room was a good reflection of her daughter. They had redecorated it a few years ago, for her sixteenth birthday and not much had changed since. The walls were a rich forest green, aside from one which Emily had insisted stay white, to brighten the room and make it appear bigger, but Olivia had since covered that wall with all manner of things; doodles and paintings, album prints and magazine cuttings, song lyrics and book quotes. It had become somewhat of a project; an artistic amalgamation and, though she didn't often venture into her daughters room anymore, whenever she did, Emily saw that Olivia had added to or changed it, always having a new verse or drawing. It was an unending project and there was a tin of white paint on the floor (Emily tried to ignore the splatters of paint on Olivia's cream carpet) so that Liv could always have a blank canvas; there was always a blank space, waiting for her, so that, should the mood take her, she would have the space to create.

The door to Olivia's ensuite clicked open and her daughter walked out, barelegged and wearing an oversized t-shirt that Emily recognised as once having belonged to Jack. Emily thought he'd handed it down to Alec but clearly Olivia had stolen this one for herself. Her face was scrubbed clean and red from the shower, the black trails of mascara gone from her cheeks, the red lipstick that made her look too old washed from her full lips. She looked at her mother and her cheeks began to flush, though whether she was embarrassed or preparing for a fight, Emily didn't know. She hesitated only a second when she saw Emily, then carried on across her room, throwing her dirty laundry at, not into, the washing basket, and climbing onto her bed with a thump.

"I'm really tired, mum," The shower had sobered her somewhat, Emily could tell. She shoved her comforter down with the heels of her feet, shuffled under it and then pulled it right up to her chin, turning over so she was facing away from her mother. "Can you just go? And turn out the light when you leave."

Emily looked at her daughter, remembering when she was so much smaller, all tucked up under her blanket, eager for her mother to read her a bedtime story. She looked at the back of Olivia's head, dark curls laying limp and knotted on her pillow and, even with her daughter right in front of her, found herself missing that little girl.

She padded quietly across the carpet, and sat down softly on the vacant side of Olivia's queen-sized bed.

"Sit up, have some water before you sleep." Her anger had somewhat dissipated, replaced by a quiet sort of sadness at her daughter's easy dismissal of her.

"I'm fine." Olivia said, stubbornly, into her pillow.

Emily paused for a moment, biting back the retort she wanted to snap at Olivia, then said, softly, "Just a sip, Liv, please. It'll help."

Olivia heaved a sigh, but she sat up, shoving down the comforter and turning to her mother. Aaron's eyes, though full of a defiance that Emily knew came entirely from her, met her own, as Olivia took the mug from her hands. She sipped, pointedly, at the water, paused, and then, with a glance at her mother, gulped it down until most of it was gone. Handing the mug back to Emily, and wiping the back of her hand across her mouth, she gave her a little, shy smile. "Thanks."

"You're welcome, baby," Emily returned her smile, setting the mug down on the side table. Her hand hesitated and she pulled open its draw, taking out the heavy, wooden hairbrush she knew she would find there. On it's back was painted an ornate O, in pink calligraphy and surrounded by tiny pink and white roses with big green leaves. A present from Auntie Penny, years ago. "Turn around."

Olivia didn't argue this time, turning away from her mother and letting Emily partition her wet hair. It was knotted, from the shower, but Emily was practised and gentle, and she didn't tug or drag. When she began to brush it, she started from the bottom, methodically working her way up, carefully teasing out any knots that she found, and Olivia barely felt it. She closed her eyes against the sensation, relaxing as she let her mother take care of her like she was a little girl again.

They were quiet for a while, as Emily teased out the knots that had formed in Olivia's hair. Where her curls had come from, Emily didn't know. Her own hair was naturally pinstraight; Aaron said his mother's hair had been straight, too. It was, like Alex's green eyes, an anomaly. Liv didn't strike up a conversation, and Emily didn't try to push one on her. She was just grateful that Olivia was letting her take care of her.

Emily spied something fluffy beneath the pillow on the spare side of the bed and, smiling, tugged it free. She held it out, over Olivia's shoulder. "Want Rocco?"

Olivia took the plushy from her mother's hand with a little smile, thumbing the fur of her stuffed raccoon. He had long since lost his tail, and one of his ears had split a long time ago so that it flopped, sadly, down towards his eye. He was greying on his brow, where she had rubbed away his fur over the intervening years since her first birthday, when Auntie JJ had gifted him to her, but he was still her Rocco. Out of habit, Liv brought him to her face, rubbing her nose against his head, like she had since she was a tiny child. It made Emily's heart ache.

"You brought him home from college." She said, casually, as though it were no big deal and not the sweetest thing to her.

"I take him everywhere, mom," Olivia said, in a small voice, as Emily finished brushing her hair. She tilted Liv's head back, gently, and split her hair into three pieces, beginning a french braid from her crown.

"Hm, you always have." Emily was quick, practised, and the braid was perfect, and the quiet, relaxed way Liv was letting her in made her confident, made her brave enough to ask; "Do you want to talk about it?"

"About what?" Olivia was acting dumb, but that was fine, Emily didn't mind elaborating.

"About whatever had you so upset tonight, Liv." She smoothed out Liv's hair, which she thought needed a trim. It was longer than Livvy had worn it for years, reminding Emily of when she was younger.

"You're not going to yell at me for being out at a bar?"

"I thought about it," Emily said, honestly, with a hint of humour in her voice. Liv cringed slightly, and Emily took pity on her, "Your dad talked me out of it."

On another night, she might have blown up on her daughter. If Aaron hadn't been there, she for sure would have. But he was right; their daughter was a social butterfly, outgoing and exuberant. Emily was right, too; she was too much like her mother for her own good. Emily sighed, telling her so.

"Honey," she shook her head, "If I had a dollar for everytime I went to a bar with a fake I.D…" She trailed off, and Olivia was quiet for a moment, picking at Rocco's little black, plastic eye.

"You did that?" Emily wasn't about to tell her daughter all of the things she had done; she was sure Olivia didn't need more ideas putting into her head on how to worry her parents. Instead, she gave her an affirming "hm" and didn't elaborate any further. Olivia, though, seemed contented by that answer, and it made her brave enough to open up a little more.

"So there's this girl…" Ah.

Aaron and Emily had never been under any illusions about Olivia; not since she was four years old and pointed to Modern Family on the TV, telling them she was going to marry Sofia Vergara. Then when she was five, she was going to marry Harry Styles, and so on and so forth. Their daughter was an out and proud bisexual from childhood. It was a non-issue, commonplace in their household. It had never even been a discussion, just a fact, one that neither Emily nor Aaron had ever questioned.

"I see," Emily responded gently, waiting for Olivia to go on, not wanting to push and have her close up again.

"I don't know," Olivia shrugged, "I guess I thought she liked me," Her voice went quiet, like she was embarrassed, "But I saw her making out with some guy." Another shrug, "It doesn't matter. It's just hard, sometimes."

"What is, baby?"

"Being me," Olivia hadn't been this frank with her in a long time, and Emily felt she was treading on uneven ground, as though any wrong step would make her close up again, and who knew how long for. So again, she didn't force it, she just waited for Olivia to carry on, which, after a heavy sigh, she did. "Liking girls, it's hard to know when they like you back. It's still not really…normal, you know? It is, but it's not. Not like liking guys is. When I like I guy, I can be pretty sure he'll like me back." She gave a little shrug, "Maybe that's vain, I don't know. But with girls...you never know until you know and sometimes, by then, it's too late and you've already made a fool of yourself."

Emily finished wrapping the hair tie around the bottom of Liv's plait, taking her time, enjoying being this close to her daughter again; she couldn't remember the last time Liv let her do her hair. Maybe middle school? That was so long ago. Emily wondered, between then and now, how many heartbreaks like this had her daughter been through that she knew nothing about? With Ava, it was different. Not only had she been with Henry for so long that anything before him had been fleeting and fickle, but she had never hesitated to come to her mother with romantic problems. Emily had always been Ava's first port of call, in happiness or sadness. Olivia preferred to either keep things to herself, or, if she needed someone to talk to, she usually went to Jack or Ava.

"Hey," Emily rubbed her hands up and down Liv's forearms, "You have always been open with your heart. That's not a bad thing."

"It just never works out for me, mom," Liv was staring down at her hands, rubbing anxiously at Rocco's ears, one upright, one folded over, out of habit.

"Sometimes having a big heart leaves you open to getting hurt." Where Liv had gotten her openness, her frankness, her trust in people from, neither of her parents knew. They theorised that it came from her Uncle Sean, with whom Liv had always gotten along like a house on fire. "So this girl wasn't the one," She carried on, softly, gently, and Liv leaned back against her mother's chest, relaxed, calm. "She doesn't know what she's missing."

"You have to say that, you're my mom." Liv made to sit up, but Emily wrapped her arms around her daughter, hugging her, and Olivia didn't fight her.

"You're nineteen, baby," Emily reminded her, rocking her from side to side, like she was five years old again. "You've got time. You're going to find somebody amazing, and who sees how amazing you are. You're going to find someone who sees all of that love you have to give, and wants to give it back in return. I'm so confident about that, Livvy," And she really meant it, "You're too beautiful of a soul not to."

They sat there for a minute, Liv listening to her mother's heartbeat in her chest, feeling her breathe, finding comfort in the quiet and the closeness. Her night had been turmoil, between the anxiety of using a fake I.D, the heartache of seeing Dani kiss that guy, the fear of calling her parents to come get her. But she had called them. She always called them. No matter what kind of mess she got herself into, no matter the time of night, no matter how mad they would be, she knew her parents would always show up for her, no hesitation. It had always been that way, and she knew it always would be that way.

"Thank you, mom, for always being there for me," She mumbled, and Emily blinked, smiling, savouring that moment. She turned her head, pressing a kiss to Livvy's damp hair.

"I love you, too, baby."

"Mother is a verb. It's something you do. Not just who you are."

- Cheryl Lacey Donovan.