Today I've cried a many tear
And pain is in my heart
Around me lies a somber scene
I don't know where to start
But I feel warmth on my skin
The stars have all aligned
The wind has blown, but now I know
That tomorrow will be kinder

Tomorrow will be kinder
I know, I've seen it before
A brighter day is coming my way
Yes, tomorrow will be kinder

-"Tomorrow Will Be Kinder" by the Secret Sisters


His fingertips were scraped raw, but he kept pulling at the ropes. He'd managed to get a little bit of slack on the ropes tying Spencer's wrists in place, but not enough to pull him free. At least Spencer's sobbing had died down, his breath catching in thready gasps, but he slumped forward, his chin tilted into his chest.

"I'm trying, I promise, I'm trying," Derek repeated. "It's gonna be okay. Hotch is coming, he's gonna fix it. It'll be okay." Spencer didn't give any sign that he could hear him, but he kept talking, if only to keep himself from losing it completely. They'd given him all the water they had left over from their practices, even though it was tepid and stale, and it wasn't enough.

Derek glanced back over his shoulder at JJ. She knelt in the grass, Spencer's clothes bundled neatly in her arms, his shoes and backpack placed beside her. Her eyes stayed downcast, and Derek could see the late afternoon light catching the tear tracks on her cheeks.

He kept pulling, his arms aching with effort, his heart beating so fast it hurt. Tears burned behind his eyes. He couldn't do this. He couldn't. He was a fifteen-year-old kid, he wasn't equipped to handle this.

"It'll be okay, pretty boy," he said again, but his voice cracked and betrayed him. He was afraid to touch him, afraid to look at him. Instead he focused on the ropes binding Spencer's thin wrists, because if he could fix at least one damn thing, it would be something.

He jumped as Hotch threw his backpack into the grass and dropped to his knees beside him, his hair tousled and his sleeves pushed up to his elbows. "What happened?" he demanded, cupping Spencer's face in his hands.

"He can't talk, he's just been crying," Derek said, relief flooding cool in his veins. "He's got to have been out here for hours. And I can't- I can't get the ropes untied, I've been trying, I swear-"

Hotch rubbed his thumb over Spencer's cheek, his soft skin briefly fading white before sinking back to red. "He's cold," he said, half to himself. "Derek, there's scissors in my backpack." He scrambled to obey, yanking the zipper open and digging around through Hotch's textbooks and folders. "Hold him up, keep him steady."

Derek handed him the scissors and sat down in front of Spencer. He couldn't avoid looking at him now, and it hurt. Spencer's hazel eyes were dull and half lidded; his sweat-drenched hair was plastered against his forehead and temples and his skin was reddened with sunburn.

Hotch sawed away the ropes with the dull scissors, pulling the frayed edges as they began to give way. He worked through them, fast but methodical, throwing them aside as they unraveled. Spencer's hands fell free first, then his arms, and then the ropes holding his shoulders and chest in place fell away. He sank forward, his body limp, and Derek braced him against his shoulder as Hotch kept working.

"It's okay, pretty boy, you're okay, I told you Hotch would get you down," he kept repeating. He didn't know if it was safe to touch him. "Everything's going to be okay now."

Hotch cut the last ropes binding Spencer's legs and ankles and his knees buckled, his body collapsing without the ropes pinning him upright. Derek barely caught him before he hit the turf, his limp dead weight surprisingly heavy against his chest.

Hotch tossed the scissors aside and knelt down beside them, pulling Spencer into his arms. "I've got you, I've got you," he said. Spencer curled into his chest, a sob breaking from his throat, and Hotch rocked him gently, holding him tight. Derek looked down at the grass, the individual blades blurring into a solid mass.

JJ approached them cautiously, silently holding out his clothes. After a moment Hotch let go of Spencer and accepted them, then helped him get dressed again, leaving his cardigan and tie in the grass. "I'm going to take him to the infirmary," he said. "I need you to take JJ back to Lincoln House. Keep an eye on her, and keep trying to call the others."

Derek nodded. Hotch stood up, lifting Spencer easily in his arms. "You think he's gonna be okay?" he asked.

"Yes," Hotch said, in a terse voice that Derek recognized as do not question me on this. Spencer's cheek pressed against his shoulder, his arms limp and his hands dangling at his sides. "It might take a while, but he's going to be okay."

Derek dragged his hands over his face as Hotch walked away. Some of the stress had drained away from his shoulders, but now blank uncertainty stretched in front of him. Sure, Hotch could tell him that Spencer was going to be okay, but that could mean anything.

He unfolded his legs and stood up, picking up his football bag first, then Hotch's backpack. The rope and the scissors he left behind. He didn't want to touch them.

"Come on, Jayje," he said. "Let's get the hell out of here." JJ was silent. She held Spencer's shoes in her hands. "JJ. Come on, pretty girl."

"I still have his shoes," she said, soft and numb.

Derek pried them out of her hands and dropped them in Hotch's backpack, then picked up the discarded tie and blazer too. "Can you carry his backpack?" he asked gently. She nodded, slinging it over her shoulder.

He kept his steps slow as JJ trailed almost behind him. It was dinner time, but he couldn't eat if somebody paid him. He just wanted to make it back to Lincoln House, throw his shit on the floor, just sit and stare at the wall for a while.

"Derek! JJ!" Penelope called as they reached the courtyard. "Guys, where have you been? I've been stuck in debate club, it ran so over time, and Strauss took away my phone! I can't have it till tomorrow!" She stopped. "Why do you have Spencer's backpack? Where is he?"

JJ looked up at Derek in a panic. He shifted his weight. "Baby girl...Spencer…"

His voice trailed off. How was he supposed to explain this? His mouth went bone dry. Penelope stared at him, eyes wide, and he couldn't speak. He couldn't tell her this.

JJ touched his arm gently, a tiny supportive gesture. "They tied Spencer to the goalpost, and they left him there," Derek said softly. "For hours."

Penelope's mouth dropped open. "But he's okay, right?" she said.

"Hotch is taking him to the infirmary," he said. "He told us to go back to Lincoln House and wait."

Penelope looked from one to the other. "But he's okay?" she pressed, and Derek couldn't answer her.


Hotch's arms ached as he cradled Spencer against his chest. He wasn't heavy- if anything, he hadn't realized exactly how thin he was until he saw him tied to the post- but it was a long walk across campus to the infirmary, and the child was dead weight in his arms.

He looked down anxiously at Spencer's face. His nose and cheekbones were burned red from the sun and his long lashes were dark against his cheeks. Hotch couldn't tell if he was conscious or not; he seemed to be drifting in and out, exhaustion pulling him down deep.

"You're okay, kiddo," he said softly, not even sure if Spencer was listening to him. "We'll fix it. I swear."

The school infirmary was not exactly the most homey place on campus. It was placed in an older part of the main building but it stood out like an eyesore, the walls stark white and the floors polished and the lights piercing and fluorescent. Not exactly comforting or reassuring for a sick kid away from their parents.

He stood awkwardly in the small waiting area, adjusting his grip on Spencer. No one was there, and he wasn't exactly sure what to do. But luckily the nurse walked in from the office, a stack of paperwork in her hands. "Hi, honey, what's going on?" she asked.

He wanted to cry. "He...uh…" he started to say, but the words caught in his throat.

The nurse clicked her tongue as she took a better look at Spencer. "Oh, that looks like a nasty sunburn!" she said. "Go ahead and put him down, I'll be there in a second."

Hotch nodded and carried Spencer over to one of the curtained-off cubicles. He set him down carefully, bracing the back of his neck, but Spencer started to rouse as he let go of him. "No, no, no, no…" he mumbled, latching onto the front of Hotch's shirt.

"Hey, calm down, buddy," Hotch said. "You're okay. You're in the infirmary, the nurse is going to take a look at you."

"No!" Spencer wailed, lurching forward and throwing his arms around Hotch's neck. "No, no, I don't...I don't wanna…"

Hotch hugged him cautiously. "I swear you're okay," he soothed, running his hand over Spencer's sweat-dampened hair. "I promise, okay? I promise that if anything goes wrong, I'll get you out of here."

He pried Spencer's fingers away and forced him to lie back down. Spencer whimpered, his hands still reaching forward towards him, but the sudden burst of energy had faded. The nurse walked in and Hotch took a step back as she started poking and prodding at Spencer without preamble.

"I see someone stayed out in the sun too long without sunscreen," she said briskly. Spencer tried to pull away from her and she ignored him. "Seems like some heat exhaustion too. Well, we'll put something on that sunburn and get you hydrated again." She looked up at Hotch. "Thanks for dropping him off. You may go."

Hotch's heart dropped to his shoes. "What?" he stammered.

"Only family can be in here," the nurse said.

"I'm his residential advisor," Hotch protested.

She shook her head. "Sorry, honey, family only," she said. "Thank you for bringing your little friend in. I'll take it from here."

Spencer struggled to sit up and failed. "Hotch, no," he said. "No, no, don't go, don't go."

"Lie back down, honey."

"No!" Spencer shouted, but he'd already screamed his vocal cords raw and his voice came out in a sandpaper shriek. "No, no, no!"

"I'm sorry," Hotch choked out, and the nurse ushered him away, drawing the curtains closed.


Alex stepped out of the chapel and into the humid late afternoon air. "Oh my god, I thought we'd never get out of there," she sighed, stretching her arms above her head.

"Why's it still so goddamn hot?" Dave complained.

James snorted. "It's not that bad," he said. He dug his phone out of his pocket and switched it back on. "This is just your special skill. You can find something to complain about no matter where we go."

Dave scowled. "No, I don't," he said.

Alex poked him lightly in the arm. "No, I'm siding with James on this one," she teased.

"Yeah, the last time we-" James started to say. "Whoa, I have like...twenty missed calls for JJ. I wonder-" His screen lit up and he answered it. "Hey, what's up?"

"I do not complain about everything," Dave grumbled under his breath.

"Oh, yes, you do," she said. "A king could give you his palace and you'd complain about the decor."

"Why would a king give me his palace?"

Alex rolled her eyes, but before she could respond, she was distracted by James raising his voice over the phone. "Okay, okay, wait, I...what's the context?" he was saying, his mouth drawing down in a frown. "What happened?"

"What's going on?" she whispered, but he just shook his head.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" James said. He stopped dead in his tracks. Alex slowed down, pausing when she realized he wasn't going to follow. "Okay. Okay, and...yeah. Heat exhaustion?"

"James?" she whispered. He reached out and grabbed her wrist, staring intently at the ground, his phone pressed to his ear.

"Okay, that's a good sign," he said. "It'd be bad if she needed to start an IV, or have him sent to the hospital in town, but…" His hand slipped from her wrist to her palm, his strong fingers sliding between hers and gripping tightly. Alex squeezed back, uneasiness growing in her chest. "Okay, yeah. We can take care of him ourselves. He's gonna...yeah, yeah, and he'll probably be pretty nauseous. We'll meet you over at Lincoln in a second." He paused. "Uh-huh. She's with me right now. I'll tell her."

He hung up the phone, his arm dropping to his side. His blue eyes seemed glazed over and faraway, and even though the sun was still shining down hot, her skin felt like ice. "What the hell was that about, James?" Dave asked.

James ignored him and slid his phone into his pocket, then turned towards Alex, his hand still gripping hers tight. "Alex," he said softly. "Something's happened to Spencer."


Hotch hovered in the lobby, watching around the corner and trying to stay out of the line of sight. He could still hear Spencer crying, thin and weak and exhausted, and it set his teeth on edge.

The nurse left, disappearing back towards the office, and he slipped out as fast as he dared. He pulled back the curtained-off corner. Spencer was curled up on his side in a little ball, tears and snot running down his face, his shoulders still hitching. His shirt was buttoned wrong, and his feet were still bare and dirty from standing in the grass for so long.

"Hey," Hotch whispered, holding onto the curtains a little too tightly.

Spencer rolled over just enough to see him, his eyes widening. "Hotch-"

"Sh, sh, sh," he said. "Stay quiet. I'm gonna get you out of here, okay?"

He picked Spencer up, careful not to jostle him too much or make any unnecessary noise that might bring the nurse running back into the room. Spencer wrapped his arms around his neck and buried his face in his shoulder. "Be as quiet as you can," Hotch whispered. He felt Spencer nod, and he carried him out of the infirmary. But he felt like he held his breath until they made it all the way back to Lincoln House, the heavy door closing behind them.


James took the Lincoln House stairs two at a time, Alex right behind him. He was already thinking ahead, trying to organize his thoughts into a plan. But his train of thought kept getting derailed. How could somebody do this to a little kid?

He burst into the seventh floor common room, slightly out of breath. Hotch paced back and forth, weaving through the mismatched furniture, his hand over his mouth and his hair sticking up at odd angles like he'd been dragging his fingers through it. "Hey," he said, and Hotch's head shot up. "What's going on?"

Hotch dropped his hand. "He's in his room, Derek's sitting with him," he said.

"How did this happen?" Alex demanded.

"I don't know," Hotch said. "Derek and JJ...their practices got canceled, but they were both still in the gym. They heard…" He faltered. "They heard him screaming when they walked out."

"Oh my god," Dave breathed.

"So they just got bored and tied a child to a goalpost and fucking left him there?" Alex said through her teeth. Hotch shrugged helplessly, his mouth drawing down.

"How's he doing right now?" James asked.

He could see Hotch struggling to keep his composure, his jaw setting stubbornly. "He's sunburned, really badly," he said. "I think he's got bruises forming. They...they tied him up really tight."

Alex sank down on the arm of the nearest chair, her hands pressed to her cheeks. "Fuck," she whispered. "And the infirmary-"

Hotch gritted his teeth so hard James was afraid for a moment they might crack. "They tried to kick me out," he said. "I wasn't about to leave him there."

"We can take care of him," James said quickly. "And I think he'll feel better if he feels safer, anyway. He's safe with us."

Derek ran into the common room, his face ashen. "Guys, he's throwing up," he said. "I don't know what to do."

Hotch was already halfway down the hall; James caught up to him quickly. Spencer was sitting up in his bed, doubled over, choking and coughing. Hotch froze for a second; James could practically see the thoughts running through his mind as he tried to figure out what he was supposed to do first. James slipped past him and sat down on the edge of the bed behind Spencer, bracing his back.

"Breathe, kiddo, breathe," he coaxed. "You're okay. Deep breaths."

He waited patiently, feeling Spencer's shoulders shake under his hand as he heaved again and vomited down the front of his shirt, but eventually he began to calm down, his body going still. "Okay, kiddo," he said. "Better?" Spencer nodded, his eyes half closed.

"This is a heat exhaustion thing, right?" Alex said softly.

"Yeah, nausea's pretty common," James reassured her. He started unbuttoning Spencer's uniform shirt, keeping his movements slow and gentle to keep from startling him. "Can you get him cleaned up?"

"Yeah, of course," Alex said.

James guided Spencer's thin arms out of the sleeves of his shirt. "Is it okay if Alex helps you?" he asked softly.

"Uh-huh," Spencer mumbled. He rubbed his eyes. "I don't feel good."

Alex leaned over him and stroked his hair back from his forehead, then touched the back of her hand to his flushed cheek. "I know, baby," she said.

Spencer turned towards her sluggishly, his eyes widening as he noticed her in the room for the first time. His face crumpled and he reached towards her, raising his arms like he wanted to be held. Alex scooped him up quickly, pressing her hand to the back of his head as he buried his face in the crook of her neck.

"You can take him to my room," Hotch said. "I've got my own bathroom, it'll be quieter." Alex nodded as she adjusted him in her arms and carried him out of the room.

James sighed heavily. "You ready to get this cleaned up?" he said as he unbuttoned his blazer and tossed it over the back of Derek's desk chair.

"I guess so," Hotch said reluctantly.

They made quick work of it, working silently to set things back to rights. Luckily Hotch had pulled back most of the blankets when he'd put Spencer to bed; his new comforter and his favorite blanket had been spared from the onslaught, but the sheets and pillows weren't quite so lucky.

Once the bed was remade and they'd sanitized the best they could, James took a step back, pushing his sleeves back up over his elbows. "Are you okay taking this stuff down to the laundry room?" he asked. "I'm going to go see if Alex needs a hand."

"Yeah, yeah, I got it," Hotch said. "Definitely go check on them."

James headed down the hall towards Hotch's room. The door was closed but unlocked, and the bathroom door was still left open. "Hey," he said softly. "You doing okay?"

The bathroom was small, not much larger than a closet, but it was just big enough to hold a shower/tub combo tucked against the wall. Water ran from the faucet, but Alex sat on the floor with Spencer on her lap, her cheek resting lightly against the top of his head, and his arms were tight around her neck. "Yeah," she said. "We'll be okay."

James leaned over and checked the water, making sure it was cool but not too cold, and then sat down on the edge of the bathtub, his elbows on his knees. "Are you okay?" he asked. "You're usually a little more…"

"Squeamish?" she finished for him, sighing heavily.

Spencer roused a little bit, raising his head off her shoulder. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice thick and slurred. "I'm sorry, Alex, I didn't mean to."

James could see Alex's heart breaking in real time. "No, no, darling, don't be sorry," she said, leaning his head back against her shoulder. "You have nothing to be sorry for. Absolutely nothing. You hear me?"

Spencer nodded, and James could see his hazel eyes beginning to well up again. He wasn't sure if he was convinced. "Let's get you cleaned up, and we'll get you to bed, okay?" he said. "Hotch wants you to stay in his room for the night."

Spencer's grip tightened on Alex's shirt. "I don't wanna be alone," he begged. His voice was raspy from screaming, his vocal cords scraped raw. "Don't leave me alone, please."

"You won't be alone," Alex promised. "I'll stay with you. Or James, or Hotch. We won't leave you alone."

He seemed to be satisfied with that, at least for the time being, but he still clung desperately to Alex, as if she was the lifeline keeping him from drowning. It's going to be a rough night, isn't it? James thought.


Emily stomped up the stairs and into the common room. "There you guys are. I'm mad at you," she announced. "All of you."

JJ barely looked at her. "You haven't been answering your phone," she said dully.

"Yeah, I know, I was out of range because this campus's signal sucks, and by the time I got back in range my battery died," she said. "I thought you guys would be at dinner, but nobody was there and I had to eat by myself. Like a loser."

"Emily, now isn't the time," Dave said in a low voice.

"Why?" she complained. "What's so important that got all you guys so distracted?"

She paused. Dave sat on the couch with JJ curled up on one side of him and Penelope on the other; Derek sat in an armchair by himself, his chin resting on his forearms, his face drawn into such tight lines that it seemed like he'd aged twenty years since she saw him that morning. Penelope's eyes were red-rimmed behind her glasses. "Pen, don't cry," Emily said. "I'm sorry I missed debate club. I promise I'll make it up to you. I'll talk to Strauss, even."

Penelope rubbed her nose. "It doesn't matter anymore," she said in a small voice.

Emily frowned. "Okay, what's going on?" she asked. "What are you guys not telling me?" She glanced around. "Where's everybody else?"

"Maybe you'd know if you'd fucking answer your phone instead of disappearing on us," Derek shot back sharply.

"Derek," Dave warned.

Derek threw his hands in the air. "What?" he challenged. "She's been AWOL all afternoon, and now she's over here whining at us like we did something wrong."

Emily took a step back as if he'd slapped her. "What the fuck are you talking about?" she asked. "Where's Alex? Where's Hotch?" JJ was glaring at her, and Penelope wasn't looking at her at all. "Where's Spencer?"

Dave cleared his throat. "Emily, just…" He stopped, sighed heavily, started again. "Listen, cara, everything's going to be okay, eventually, but right now…"

"You're not answering me," she said, her throat going dry. He was being so gentle and she hated it. "Did...did something happen to Spencer?"

JJ got up abruptly. "I don't want to talk about this anymore," she said, and she pushed past Emily to run down the stairs.

Emily stumbled back, too shocked to say anything. She looked over at Dave, stonyfaced and silent. "Okay, can somebody please tell what's going on?" she said, and she couldn't stop the crack in her voice. "What...what happened?"

She had a terrible sinking feeling that she wasn't going to like the answer, but she needed to know.


Alex sat down on the edge of the bathtub. "Can you lean a little closer, darling?" she asked. Spencer obeyed slowly. He was sitting on the floor, his folded arms resting on the edge of the tub and his cheek resting on his arms. Alex combed his wet hair as gently as she could, trying to keep from tugging too hard. He seemed a bit calmer now that he was clean and a little cooler; James had borrowed a bottle of aloe from JJ and she'd used almost a quarter of it on the sunburn covering his small body.

She got up and set the comb on the counter, turning her back to him for just a moment. "No, no, no!" Spencer said, struggling to his feet. His voice was so raw and raspy she could barely hear him. "No, wait, come back, come back-"

A sharp pang shot through her heart as he fell against her, his knees buckling, and he buried his face in her stomach. "No, sweetheart, I'm not going anywhere," she reassured him. She smoothed her hand over the back of his head. "Sh, darling, sh, it's all right."

Alex bent to hug him tighter, waiting for him to calm back down. She had dressed him in the softest pajamas they'd gotten him last weekend, and she could feel the prickling heat of his skin burning her palm through the thin fabric. After a moment she picked him up carefully, letting him rest his head on her shoulder, and carried him out.

James had gotten Hotch's bed set up, stacked with extra pillows and the covers pulled back. "Hey, kid, you feeling any better?" he asked. Spencer raised and lowered one shoulder.

Alex set him down in the bed, helping him lie down, and James picked up a couple of ice packs from Hotch's nightstand. "This might be a little uncomfortable, but it'll help you feel better faster," he explained, setting the ice packs under his neck and against his sides. Spencer screwed up his face at the sudden shock of cold. "Yeah, I know, I'm sorry."

Alex tucked the sheets around him, then picked up his favorite blanket from the foot of the bed. His eyes lit up in relief as she draped it against him, his hands immediately grabbing for the soft fabric. She stroked his hair back from his forehead as he clutched his blanket and closed his eyes, his breathing already settling into the soft rhythmic patterns of sleep.

When James spoke again she nearly jumped out of shock, even though his voice was soft and quiet. "I think you should take a second," he said.

"A second for what?"

"To calm down," he said. "You're wound so tight you're about to explode."

She gritted her teeth. "I'm fine," she said. "And I can't leave him."

"I'll stay with him the whole time, he's not going to be alone," James promised. He touched her shoulder lightly. "Take five minutes. Catch your breath. Go see if Hotch needs help in the laundry room, he's been gone for a while." She shot him a sharp look, but he just smiled. "I know you. You need to take a second."

"Fine," she said, getting up as gently as she could to keep from jostling Spencer. "You promise you won't leave him?"

"Not for a second," he promised.

She sighed. "I'll be right back, then," she said.

She closed the door behind her as she left the room and made her way down the stairs to the fifth floor laundry room. James was right, she felt so tightly wound that she might snap.

She was angry. She was angrier than she'd ever been in her life. She wanted names. She wanted to destroy whoever thought they could do this to a child. To Spencer.

She opened the laundry room door; the air smelled faintly like mildew but mostly like detergent and dryer sheets. Hotch stood off by himself, his hands in his pockets, staring blankly at the contents of the churning washer.

"Do you need a hand?" she asked. He didn't look up. "Hotch?"

He turned around. "Hm?"

"Do you need a hand?" she repeated. "James wanted me to check on you."

He rubbed his hand over his face. "Yeah, yeah, I'm...I've got it," he said. "How's...how's he doing?"

"Sleeping," she said. "James is with him, and I'm heading right back up." She tilted her head to the side. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he said tightly. "Yeah, I'm fine. Are...are you okay?"

Suddenly she felt so, so tired. "Mm-hm," she said. She leaned against a dryer; it had been turned off and emptied but the metal was still warm. "Hotch."

He was staring at the washing machine again, watching the water and fabric slosh against the glass door. "Huh?" he said absently.

"How...how bad was it?" she asked. "When you found him."

"Oh," he said. "Well, he was...he was…"

He fell silent. She couldn't quite see his face. "Hotch?" she said.

He said nothing. She inched a little closer. His shoulders shook, but she didn't realize that he was crying until he buried his face in his hands. "Oh, Aaron," she whispered. She tugged lightly at his sleeve, pulling him towards her.

"I don't understand," he said, his voice crackling, his face still hidden behind his hands. "Alex, I don't understand."

"I don't either," she said softly. She rubbed her hands lightly up and down his upper arms as he cried silently, trying to convey I'm still here and I understand and this isn't fair as best as she could. She didn't try to stop, and she didn't try to talk him through it. She just kept her hands on his arms, grounding him, letting him cry.

After a while he began to calm down, his nose pink and his eyes red as he frantically swiped at his wet face with his shirtsleeves. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I just-"

"I know," she said, giving his arm a last little squeeze as she let go.

He nodded and exhaled a wet, shuddery sigh. "I'll take care of this," he said. "If James asks, I'll be back up when I'm done."

"Sure," she said. "Let me know if you need anything though, okay?"

He nodded, offering her a tight-lipped ghost of a smile, and she was fairly sure he understood what she meant. She left quietly and headed back up the stairs.

True to his word, James was still in Hotch's room, sitting in his desk chair with one leg folded up under him as he scrolled through his phone. He looked up as she slipped into the room and closed the door behind her. "Better?" he asked.

"Maybe," she said. "Hotch is still working on the laundry, he said he'll be up when he's done."

James nodded. "Are you hungry?" he asked. "It's getting late."

She paused. "I don't know, I hadn't thought about it," she said.

"I'm going to get something, I'll pick up something for you," he said. "You want anything in particular?" He unfolded himself from the chair and raked his soft sandy brown hair away from his face. "I figure you don't mind keeping an eye on Spencer."

She shook her head. "Not at all," she said. She sat down on the edge of Hotch's bed and rested her hand lightly on Spencer's chest, feeling the steady rise-and-fall of his breathing.

"He woke up once when you were gone, I got him to drink some water and he fell right back asleep," James said. "He was fine, don't worry. He wasn't upset." Alex nodded, and he touched her shoulder lightly. "I'll be back. Text me if you need me."

"I will," she said softly, and he left the room without another word.

She toed off her shoes and tucked her legs up underneath her, making herself comfortable at the foot of the bed. Spencer slept soundly, propped up on pillows and cuddling his blanket against his cheek. She cupped his cheek in her hand. It was hard to tell if he was any cooler- his body temperature may have dropped, but the sunburn spread across his little face was deep red and warm.

She heard the door open, but didn't turn around. "Hey, James, can you check and see if his temperature's gone down?" she asked.

"It's not James, it's...uh, it's just me."

She turned around. "Emily?" she said. "When did you get back?"

Emily hovered in the doorway, her school uniform rumpled and faintly grass-stained. Her makeup was a lost cause, mascara and eyeliner smeared under her eyes like she'd been punched. "Not soon enough," she said. She clutched one of Alex's tote bags in her hand and held it out like a peace offering. "I figured you weren't going to leave him, so I brought you some stuff. Mostly clothes. I'm guessing you don't want to stay in your uniform all night."

"Yeah, not really," she said. "Thanks. That's really thoughtful of you."

Emily reached into the bag and pulled out a bottle of pedialyte. "This is for the kid," she said. "He probably needs this more now than I might need it for a hypothetical future hangover."

"Oh, god, yeah, that'll help a lot," Alex said.

Emily set the bag down on Hotch's desk, then stepped a little closer. "Jesus," she breathed. "His little face. He's so burned. I didn't...they said he was out there for hours."

Alex nodded. Emily stared down at Spencer, then quickly bent over him and kissed his forehead. "You want me to cover for you for bedchecks so you can stay with him?" she asked. "I'll talk to Elle. Don't worry about it."

"That...that would be great," she adjusted Spencer's blanket gently. The rope marks on his wrists were beginning to purple with bruising, his soft skin rubbed raw and blistered. "I have a feeling he's in for a rough night. Poor baby."

Emily bit her lip. "Keep me updated," she said. "I'll...I'll keep my phone on all night, if you need anything at all, I'll come help. Or if you need me to get anything."

"Thanks," Alex said, a little surprised. "I'll let you know."

Emily opened her mouth like she wanted to say something, then exhaled slowly instead. "I'll see you later," she said, and she left.

Alex dug around in the bag and found a soft well-washed tee shirt and leggings, her usual kind of outfit for lazy Sunday mornings in her dorm room. She slipped into the bathroom and changed out of her uniform, then shook her hair loose and braided it over her shoulder, tying it off with the ribbon she'd worn during the day.

"Alex?" she heard a quavering little voice call.

"I'm here," she called back, flicking off the lights and hurrying back into the room. Spencer was struggling to sit up, the half-melted ice packs falling away. "I'm here, baby, it's okay."

She sat down on the edge of the bed and he leaned heavily against her. "You were gone," he said.

"I wasn't far," she reassured him. "You need to lie down, my darling. You need to rest." She picked up and settled him back against the pillows, then moved the wet ice packs back onto the nightstand. "Go back to sleep. I'll be right here."

"I don't feel good," he said as she tucked him back in. "Alex, I don't feel good."

"I'm so sorry, love," she said. "I've got something for you to drink, that'll help."

James had borrowed a plastic cup with a straw from Penelope's apparently never-ending collection; she filled it with pedialyte and snapped the lid back into place. She guided Spencer's small hands to take it. "Drink all of it," she said.

She half expected him to counter with some kind of fact, or at least put up some kind of fight, but he took the cup without a word and obeyed. He looked like he was moments away from falling asleep again, and she caught the cup before it could slip from his hands. She shook it lightly to see if it was empty. "Good job," she said, setting it aside. "Are you ready to sleep now?"

He rubbed his bloodshot eyes. "You're not gonna leave?" he asked, his lower lip wobbling.

"I'm not, I promise," she said. She laid down beside him and tugged him closer until he was cuddled up against her, his head resting against her shoulder. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm here, sweetheart. I'm right here."

He clutched her shirt tightly, burying his face in the crook of her neck, and she hugged him as tightly as she dared. "I'm right here, you're safe, no one's going to hurt you," she kept whispering as she stroked his back, and eventually he fell asleep in her arms, keeping his death grip on the shoulders of her shirt, his knuckles going white.


Author's Notes:

This was a hard chapter. A hard couple of chapters, actually. But it's done! And I'm full of feelings.

Thanks to Brenna for being my cheerleader on this chapter when it was giving me a tough time!