If you're lost and you're lonely

Go and figure out why
Take a trip to your dark side
Go on and have a good cry
'Cause we're all lonely
Yeah, we're all lonely together

I want to see your sadness
I want to share your sin
I want to bleed your blood and
I want to be let in
Don't you just, don't we all just
Want to be together

Leave what's heavy, what's heavy behind
Leave what's heavy, what's heavy behind

-"Heavy" by Birdtalker


James's back ached as he leaned against the wall, but he wasn't about to move. There was barely enough space on the narrow school-issued twin bed for one teenager, much less two teenagers and a sick kid, but they made it work.

Alex sat next to him, cradling Spencer in her arms. He was fast asleep, his head on her shoulder and his pale lips slightly parted, but his hands clung to the front of her shirt in tight little fists, as if he was afraid he might be pulled away from her at any moment, even in his sleep. His breathing was steady but labored, like he'd been running for hours and his lungs threatened to give out. Alex rocked him gently, humming under her breath.

James searched Spencer's face for any signs of distress. He'd worked as a lifeguard and camp counselor before, and had taken every first aid class he'd been able to sign up for in the past few years, but he'd never seen heat exhaustion this bad before. Especially not in a kid as little and fragile as Spencer. For a while he'd seriously thought they'd need to take him to the emergency room.

But he seemed a little better now, sleeping quietly in Alex's lap. So far he seemed to be through the worst of it- although James had a terrible sinking feeling that while the physical problems would heal, it would take longer for the emotional wounds to scab over and scar.

There was a light knock on the door and Hotch stuck his head in the room before anyone could answer. "Found a thermometer," he said, holding it up. "You'd think there'd be one in the first aid kit."

James took it from him and leaned over Spencer, brushing his hair back so he could set the thermometer in his ear. "Don't wake him up," Alex whispered.

"I won't," he reassured her. It beeped and he squinted at the digital readout. "Not as bad as I thought. Just a little over a hundred."

"Good," Alex sighed. James didn't want to tell her that this meant his temperature had probably been dangerously high before they'd gotten him cooled down. He didn't want to stress her out more.

Hotch cleared his throat. "You probably want to head back to your dorm, it's almost bedchecks," he said. "I'll take it from here."

"Hm?" Alex said absently. She paused, as if she was trying to process what he'd just said, then looked up with a scowl. "What? No, I'm staying with him."

"But...you don't live in this building," Hotch objected.

"So? Everybody knows Gideon doesn't care about anything that goes on in Lincoln House. If he finds out, just tell him Spencer needed me."

"What about Strauss?"

"Elle and Emily are covering for me. I'll be fine for one night. I'm not leaving him."

"But I-"

"Guys, shut up," James interrupted in a half-whisper, nodding towards Spencer. Alex immediately closed her mouth, but he could tell by the stubborn set of her jaw that this was a hill she was willing to die on.

Hotch stood there with his arms folded, staring her down. "I'm his RA," he said. "And it's my room."

James weighed his options carefully. "Hotch...I think you need to let Alex stay," he said. "Spencer's been pretty calm since she got here, I think that's good for him." Hotch scowled, but he didn't keep arguing. "Besides, if something happens, it'll be better if both of you are here."

Alex looked up at him. "You're not staying?" she said.

"No, I've got to get home," he said. "But I can get here early tomorrow morning and check on him." He paused. "He's definitely not going to class tomorrow, though. He needs to rest."

"Oh, yeah, for sure," Hotch said. He sighed. "I guess I'll take Spencer's bed for the night. But you'll need to come get me if anything happens."

"I will, I will," Alex promised. "Keep your phone on you." Hotch nodded, his mouth pressed in a firm line, and he left the room, closing the door behind him.

James looked down at Spencer. Maybe he'd fucked up. Maybe they should have taken him to a hospital. Maybe they should have found an adult- although Alex was right, Gideon didn't seem to be involved with anything happening in Lincoln House, and they ended up in this situation in the first place because the school nurse wasn't listening to Hotch.

He had the sudden, terrible urge to call his mother and hand everything over to her. Except his mother wasn't Spencer's mother, and there wasn't much she'd be able to do either.

"You think we should try to get in touch with his parents?" he asked aloud instead.

Alex shook her head. "I can't get two words out of him about his family," she said softly. "He doesn't talk about them. He doesn't even have any photos of them in his room. I think...a few weeks ago he tried to call his father, but he didn't answer."

James's chest tightened. "You think we can find them?" he said.

Alex sort of smiled. "Penelope's been begging me to let her use some non-ethical channels to look for Spencer's family," she said. "After what happened...I think I might let her." Her faint smile faded as she looked down at the child sleeping in her arms. "Who are we supposed to talk to about this? What are we supposed to do?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "I don't know if anybody outside of us even knows what happened to him. But...we've got to talk to somebody."

She ran her fingertips lightly over Spencer's tightly-clenched fist. "Jamie, is there anything else we can do? Anything else we can give him to help him feel better?"

"Sleep is the best thing he can do right now," James said. "If he wakes up, give him more to drink. He may still be nauseated so he might throw up again, so just keep an eye on him. But we've already gotten him cooled down and taken care of his sunburn. There's not a lot we can do other than that."

She nodded. He could see the worry tightening around her mouth as she looked down at Spencer, and he hated that there was nothing he could do to help either of them. "Call me if you need to," he said. "I'll keep my phone on."

"Thanks," she said. James squeezed her shoulder, and she reached up to seize his hand tightly. She said nothing about being worried, so he didn't bring it up.


Spencer rubbed his eyes, trying to swallow down the panic rising like bile in the back of his throat. Alex isn't leaving, she isn't, he told himsef. She was just a few steps away, refilling his cup. But the fear rose up anyway.

"You're not leaving, right?" he asked, his voice hoarse and wavering.

"Hm?" Alex said as she snapped the lid onto the cup. "No, sweetheart, of course I'm not." She handed him the cup with a smile and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm staying right here with you tonight. Is that okay?"

He nodded, exhaling slowly in relief as the irrational fear began to uncoil. Alex sat down beside him on the bed and shifted the pillows lightly behind him. "Where's Hotch?" he asked.

"He's sleeping in your room tonight," she said. "Would you rather have him stay with you?"

He shook his head. "I want you," he said.

She smiled and adjusted the covers around him. "You have me," she said. She brushed his hair out of his eyes, then touched the back of her hand to his cheek. "How bad are you hurting right now?"

His shoulders hurt the most, the seam of his tee shirt scraping against his sunburn. His head hurt, and his stomach still twisted up tight- he was afraid he might be sick again, and he was dreading it. But he only shrugged. "I'm okay," he said.

Alex didn't seem to buy the lie, but she didn't press him for more details. She touched his chin lightly. "Do you want to go back to sleep, or do you feel like staying awake for a while?" she asked instead.

"Stay awake," he told her.

She leaned around him to pick up her phone from Hotch's nightstand; she fiddled with it for a moment and handed it to him. "We can watch a movie till you get sleepy, then," she said. "I think you'll like this one."

He only sort of paid attention to the screen as Alex pulled him closer against her side and arranged the sheets and blankets around him, with his favorite blanket on top and tucked up to his chest. She took the phone and held it so he could see it. "Keep drinking your water, darling," she reminded him softly.

He took a sip as he huddled against her, his cheek pressing into her shoulder as she wrapped her arm around him. The anxiety that kept surging in his chest seemed to subside as she began to idly run her fingers through his tangled hair.

He couldn't remember the last time somebody held him like this. His father had never been one for hugs or affection ("you're a big boy now, Spencer, you don't need to be coddled") and his mother was unpredictable at best, downright angry at worst ("not now, Spencer, I can't hold you right now, don't you understand that Mommy's sick?")

He rubbed his cheek against Alex's shoulder. The scent of her perfume was reassuring- vanilla bean and violets and lilies- and her tee shirt was soft and she was warm and comforting, and even though his whole body hurt and his head pounded, he felt calmer than he had in a while.

The door opened slowly, and Hotch peeked inside, his eyebrows raising in surprise. "You're awake, kiddo?" he said.

"Just barely," Alex said, still playing with his hair. She was right; he was probably minutes away from dozing off again. "What's going on? Everything okay?"

"Nothing," Hotch said. "I just, uh…" He sat down at the foot of the bed, balancing himself carefully since there wasn't quite enough room for three people. "Hey, Spencer. How are you feeling, buddy?"

Spencer shrugged. "Okay," he rasped.

Alex tapped the side of the cup. "Drink a little more for me," she coaxed, and he obediently took an apathetic sip from the straw. "Is something happening, Hotch?"

"No, I just…" Hotch started to say. He'd changed from his uniform khakis to pajama pants, but he still wore his button down shirt. "I ran into JJ, and...she wants to see Spencer."

Alex's hand stilled on his hair. "I don't know about that," she said.

"I think it'll be okay," Hotch said. "Just for a second." He shifted his weight. "She hasn't seen him since…"

His voice trailed off. Spencer wasn't quite sure what he was going to say, and he looked up to Alex for an answer.

Alex paused the movie playing on her phone and swept Spencer's hair back from his forehead. "Sweetheart, do you want to see JJ?" she asked softly. "Not for long, she just so she can say goodnight." He nodded.

Hotch leaned back and beckoned towards the hallway. "Come on, he's awake," he called quietly. He paused. "JJ, come on."

She slipped into the room, tangling her fingers together. Her blonde hair was neatly braided and she was already dressed in her pajamas. "Hi," she whispered. "Are you...are you better?"

"I think so," he said. He didn't know if he felt better yet, he didn't know what he felt, but she looked so sad.

"You look better," she offered.

She was standing so far away, as if she was afraid to come close to him. Alex lifted him onto her lap and he hugged his blanket to his chest. "Thank you for finding me," he said quietly.

JJ pressed her mouth together, as if she was trying to keep from crying. "We'll always find you," she said. She bent over him and kissed his cheek, and then ran past Hotch out of the room.

His heart sank. That wasn't like JJ at all. But he wasn't sure why she was acting so strange.

He twisted around so he could see Alex. "Is she mad at me?" he asked.

"No," Hotch said quickly as Alex's arms tightened around him. "Not at all. She's...she's just worried about you, that's all." He cleared his throat. "Alex is going to stay with you tonight, but I'm right down the hall if you need me, okay?"

"Okay," he echoed.

Hotch got up, but he lingered in the doorway, as if there was something else he wanted to say but he didn't know how. "Goodnight, you guys," he said at last, and he closed the door behind him.

Alex sighed heavily, then kissed the top of his head. "You want to go to sleep, baby?" she asked. He shook his head. "Or do you want to keep watching the movie?"

He shook his head again. He didn't know how to tell her what he needed, but she seemed to understand anyway. She cuddled him close, his head resting against her chest, and he sighed, some of the tension draining from his exhausted little body as he listened to the steady thump of her heartbeat.


Hotch stared up at the dark ceiling, his hands folded over his stomach. It was past two in the morning, but there was no way in hell he was going to fall asleep any time soon. Across the room Derek snored steadily, a heap of long limbs half covered up in a quilt.

He reached over and checked his phone. No missed texts or phone calls from Alex, but it was pushing two-thirty. He threw his covers back and padded down the hallway to his room.

The bed was empty, and that was not reassuring at all- even less when he saw light shining under the crack in the bathroom door. He tapped it open quietly.

Alex sat on the bathroom floor beside Spencer, rubbing his back as he leaned over the toilet to throw up. "You're okay," she was saying. "You're okay, darling. I'm here. I'm right here."

Neither of them had noticed him. Hotch knelt down beside them on the floor. "That bad, huh?" he said.

Alex jumped. "Holy shit, Hotch," she sighed, still absently ran her hand up and down Spencer's back. "You scared me."

"Sorry," he apologized. She looked almost as bad as Spencer- her brown eyes shadowed in faint purple bruising, stray hairs escaping from her long braid, a damp patch on her shoulder that had to have been left from comforting a sobbing child. "I wanted to check on you guys. Glad I did." He touched Spencer's arm lightly. "When did he start getting sick again?"

Spencer leaned his forehead on his folded arms; Alex smoothed her hand over his hair. "About half an hour ago," she said. "Every time I think he's done, he starts up again."

"You should have called me," Hotch chided.

The corners of her mouth tugged down. "I tried to go back and get my phone, but he…" she started to say. She glanced down at the exhausted child and her voice dropped down quieter. "He panicked when I tried to leave the room. I...I couldn't do it."

Hotch nodded. "I get it," he said softly. He rubbed Spencer's back. "Hey, kiddo. Are you doing okay?"

Spencer struggled to sit up; his hazel eyes were bloodshot and watering. "I don't feel good," he rasped. "Make it stop."

"Yeah, I know, buddy," he said. "You want to sit up for a little bit?" Spencer shook his head. He laid himself down instead, curling up in a tight ball with his head on Alex's lap. She immediately adjusted herself to make him more comfortable, one hand working gently through his hair and the other resting on his hip.

Hotch got up from the floor and went back to his room in search of the cup. He fumbled around in the dark and found it on the nightstand; it was almost empty so he picked up the bottle of pedialyte that Emily had brought by and refilled it.

Alex was leaning over Spencer, stroking his hair away from his flushed face. "Hey," he said as he sat down crosslegged beside them. "You need to drink something."

"I don't want to," he mumbled.

Hotch lifted Spencer to sit upright and he whimpered. "You have to," he said firmly. "You're going to make things worse if you keep getting sick without anything in your stomach."

Spencer's face crumpled like he was about to cry. Alex hugged him close, letting him sag against her. "At least a little bit," she coaxed. Hotch pressed the cup into Spencer's hand, and he stuck the straw in his mouth with a petulant scowl.

Hotch leaned back against the wall and dragged his hand over his face. Twelve hours ago he was in his last class of the day, almost ready for the bell to ring, with no idea what was going to happen. Now he was sitting on a cold bathroom floor at almost three in the morning with a sick kid and an exhausted girl that he'd been friends with for a month.

Maybe if he hadn't answered Haley's texts. Maybe if he'd made sure that somebody was with Spencer. Maybe if he'd told Spencer in no uncertain terms to never talk to any of the popular kids, much less go with them anywhere. Maybe if he'd checked his damn phone.

Suddenly Spencer pulled away from Alex, the cup falling from his hands. "Gonna be sick," he gasped, and before Alex could do anything, Hotch moved him swiftly out of her arms. Spencer coughed, his shoulders shaking as he heaved.

Alex took a deep breath and slid closer to Spencer, drawing his hair back and away from his face; Hotch shifted to make room. "You're doing so good, baby," she murmured. "You're okay. You're okay, we're right here."

Spencer pushed himself back. He'd gotten sick down the front of his shirt, and his face was dangerously pale. "I don't feel good," he said, his voice soft and hoarse.

"I know, kiddo," Hotch said. "Stay here with Alex for a second, okay?"

He handed him over and got up to dig around in his drawers for one of his clean tee shirts, the cotton well-washed and soft. Spencer huddled against Alex, whining quietly through his teeth as she pressed her hand to his back.

"Sit up for a second, Spence," he said. He struggled to obey; Alex braced his sides as Hotch gently switched out his shirt for the clean one. The bruises that were barely forming earlier had now erupted on his little body in full force, wrapping around his chest and stomach and back, and Hotch did his best to keep his hands gentle.

Alex tugged the shirt down and smoothed his hair. "Do you feel like you're going to throw up again?" she asked.

"Just dizzy," Spencer said, his eyes half closed.

Hotch let him lean against his chest. A lump rose in his throat as a horrible sense of deja vu threatened to swallow him whole. Memories surged up unbidden, sour and sharp, of sitting on the bathroom floor with Sean asleep on his lap, the fan and shower running to drown out the sounds of his father shouting, dozing off while sitting up, waiting for his mother to creep in and tell him it was safe to go back to bed.

A hand touched his arm lightly and he jerked back. "Hey, sorry...are you all right?" Alex whispered. "You went pale all of a sudden."

He cleared his throat. "Yeah," he said, a little more harshly than he intended. "Spencer, you wanna go back to bed?"

"Mm-hm," Spencer said, trying to struggle to his feet.

Hotch picked him up, settling him on his hip with the ease of years of practice, then reached out his hand to help Alex up. "Let's get you back to bed then, kid," he said.

Spencer leaned his head on his shoulder and Hotch patted his back lightly. "I can take him," Alex said, following at his heels.

Hotch turned on the bedside lamp and set Spencer down on the bed. The black tee shirt swallowed him up, somehow making him look even smaller and younger. "You can take a break if you want," he said. "You look exhausted."

"I'm fine," Alex said absently. Spencer was sniffling softly, his shoulders trembling. Alex brushed his hair out of his eyes. "Seriously, I get what you're trying to do, and I appreciate it, bubba, but really I'm fine."

He stopped, frowning. He wasn't sure if he'd misheard her because it was almost three in the morning and he was tired. And if he hadn't misheard her, he wasn't sure how it happened.

Alex handed Spencer his favorite blanket and he hugged it tight. "Close your eyes, Spencer, try to go to sleep," she said. She paused. "Oh. Oh, shit. Did I just call you 'bubba'?"

"Uh...yeah," Hotch said.

"Sorry," she sighed. "Force of habit. It's what my mom and I call my brothers, I guess it just slipped out." She rubbed her eyes, laughing ruefully. "Sorry about that."

"It's fine," he said stiffly. "I guess I'll...goodnight."

He made it back out to the hallway, stopped, and walked back in. Alex glanced at him over her shoulder. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"You can...you can call me that if you want," he said. He crossed over to turn off bathroom lights. "Okay, goodnight, call me if you need me."

He bolted back out to the hallway, closing the door behind him. Derek was still asleep in his bed and didn't give the slightest hint at rousing as Hotch slipped back into the room. He sank down on Spencer's bed. But after a moment, he grabbed the pillow and the blankets and left.

Alex had made herself space next to Spencer in the narrow twin bed; he was already half asleep on her chest. "What's wrong?" she asked, keeping her voice low.

Hotch threw the pillow and blankets down on the floor. "I'm sleeping in here," he said. "And you can't stop me."

Alex frowned. "Are you sure?" she said. "What if he throws up again?"

He nudged the blankets around to make a nest for himself. "Then you'll need help," he said. "I have a feeling that it bothers me a hell of a lot less than it bothers you."

Alex sighed heavily. "Is that obvious?" she said.

"Yeah," he told her. "That, and James mentioned that you're…kind of a sympathy puker."

Alex rolled her eyes. "It's not that bad," she said. She looked down at the sleeping child curled up into her side. "And I'll put up with it for his sake."

Hotch switched off the light. "Well, if anything happens, I'm here," he said. "Goodnight."

"'Night."

He laid down on the floor, making himself at least somewhat comfortable, then propped himself up on his elbows. "Hey, Alex?" he ventured.

"Mm-hm?"

"If you give me a nickname, I'll have to give you one back," he said.

She laughed a little. "I'll hold you to that then, bubba," she said sleepily.


Derek switched off his alarm, yawning. There was a gnawing feeling at the pit of his stomach, as if something was wrong but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He sat up and turned on the lights, and his eyes fell on Spencer's empty bed, and it all came crashing back.

He'd thought Hotch was sleeping in Spencer's bed, but maybe not. Or maybe something worse had happened to the kid overnight, and he'd had to leave. That thought nearly sidelined him, so he pushed it away and got out of bed as quickly as he could.

He got ready for class on autopilot, navigating the crowded bathroom to shower and brush his teeth. But he didn't see Hotch, and that made the worry pull harder at the pit of his stomach. Once he was ready to leave, he made his way down the hall to Hotch's room, swimming upstream against the other boys getting ready to leave for breakfast and homeroom. He had just raised his hand to knock when the door opened.

"Shit!" he blurted out.

Hotch frowned at him. "Shut up, Spencer's sleeping," he said. He was in full uniform already, his blazer buttoned and his shaggy dark hair combed back neatly, but his eyes were ringed in dark circles. "You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I'm fine," Derek stammered. "How's Spencer?"

He tried to peer around him into the room; he caught the faintest glimpse of Spencer's soft light brown hair before Hotch closed the door. "I told you, he's sleeping," he said. "So is Alex. She's going to stay with him."

"Is he better?" Derek asked.

Hotch brushed past him. "I need you to walk the girls to the dining hall," he said. "I have to talk to Gideon."

"About Spencer?"

"Can you stop asking questions?" Hotch said sharply. He paused. "Sorry. I didn't mean to snap, I...didn't get a lot of sleep last night."

Derek stayed in stride with him as they headed down the stairs. "No, I get it," he said quietly.

"Gideon needs to know what happened," Hotch said. "We can't handle everything by ourselves."

"You think they're going to figure out who did it?" Derek asked. "Do you think they're gonna get in trouble?"

"Not sure," Hotch said. He shouldered his backpack as they reached the bottom of the stairs. "Stay with Penelope and JJ. Make sure you're with them at all times, and if not then David or James. Just to be safe."

"What about Emily?"

"Emily can hold her own," Hotch said. "We can talk about everything tonight."

Derek shifted his weight. "I can't," he said uncomfortably. "I've…I've got a game."

He couldn't read Hotch's expression. "Oh," he said. "Of course." His eyes narrowed. "Stay with the girls, please."

Derek watched him stride across the lobby and knock on Gideon's door firmly. After a moment Hotch opened it and went inside, and Derek went in search of JJ and Penelope, his stomach tied up in knots.


Penelope rested her chin in her hands and gazed at Spencer's empty desk, her teacher's voice fading out in her ears. It seemed wrong to be in class without him. He was always fidgeting, squinting at the smartboard while the teacher lectured, fiddling with his pencils or absently kicking his heels against his chair since his legs were too short for his toes to reach the ground. She could count on one hand the number of times that she'd seen him take notes, and when he did it was completely illegible.

"Miss Garcia? Are you paying attention?"

Her head shot up. "Yes," she said. "I'm, um. I'm listening."

The teacher raised her eyebrow, but after a long knowing glance at Penelope, she went back to the board. Penelope bit back a sigh.

At least class was almost done. The whole day had felt strange and unfamiliar and uncomfortable and she just wanted to crawl back into bed and pull the covers over her head. Hotch had never made it down to breakfast, and Derek insisted on walking with her and JJ everywhere they went, and Emily and the older boys were unusually solemn and silent at lunch. Things seemed wrong without Spencer or Alex there, and every time she remembered why they were gone it felt like ice cold water had crashed over her in a wave that threatened to pull her under for good.

She looked over at JJ. Somehow JJ managed to seem perfectly calm, her face expressionless as she took notes. She wasn't sure how she could do it.

The bell rang, startling her so badly she dropped her pen. JJ picked it up quickly and handed it to her, pulling her long hair back over her shoulder. "Let's get out of here," she said.

Penelope dumped her belongings into her sequined backpack and zipped it up. "Do you think Hotch will let us see him?" she asked.

"Maybe," JJ said. "He let me see him last night, but...only for a minute. He was tired."

"Maybe if we ask Alex, she'll-"

She collided with another student on the way out the door. Neal barely glanced back at her. "Watch where you're going," he said.

She froze. What if he was one of them? What if he was one of the people that hurt Spencer, and he was walking around as if nothing had ever happened, as if it didn't matter?

JJ took her firmly by the arm. "Come on, Dave said he would meet us by the stairs," she said.

Penelope allowed herself to be pulled away, her steps dragging. At least class was over, and it was the weekend, and screw it, she wasn't going to whatever stupid club she had scheduled for the afternoon. She was done for the day.

"Hey! Penelope!"

She turned around to see Haley Brooks heading directly towards her, her blonde hair tied back in a navy and gold bow. "Hey, I was hoping I could catch you," she said brightly. "Have you seen Aaron?"

"Aaron?" Penelope repeated blankly. "He's, um...he's-"

"He's busy," JJ said.

Haley frowned. "I've been looking for him all day," she said. "And he hasn't answered any of my texts." She reached into her backpack and pulled out Hotch's favorite hoodie. "Do you mind giving this to him? He let me borrow it yesterday."

JJ grabbed it. "I'll give it to him," she said. "Thanks. We have to go. Come on, Pen."

Before she could protest, she pulled her away. "Sorry, Haley," Penelope called over her shoulder. She almost tripped over her own shoes. "JJ, what's wrong?"

JJ's hand was almost too tight on her wrist. "I don't think we can trust her," she said. "If Hotch isn't talking to her, we shouldn't either."

"But...he loves her," Penelope objected. "And he's been really busy."

JJ kept walking. "She's from Roosevelt House," she said. "She's a cheerleader. Think about it."

Penelope's heart sank. "But Haley's so nice," she said in a small voice.

But JJ said nothing, and Penelope stayed quiet.


Derek dropped his bag down in front of his locker. The upset stomach feeling hadn't subsided all day, and now that he was supposed to get ready for the game, it somehow seemed worse.

Hotch had stayed tight lipped all day about his conversation with Gideon, the older kids were trying to keep the younger kids distracted, and James spent most of lunch on his phone texting back and forth with Alex. Everything just seemed wrong and hollow and incomplete without Spencer running to keep up with them and jabbering a mile a minute.

And it seemed wrong to be in the locker room, listening to the other boys shouting over the clanging of locker doors and someone's phone blasting music. Any of his teammates could have been the ones to hurt Spencer- the same teammates that offered him advice and cheered him on when he made it off the bench and encouraged him after a rough practice.

How could the same people who were kind to him turn around and treat Spencer like this?

His stomach twisted tighter. Maybe he could beg out of tonight's game, claim he was sick.

He changed out his school clothes and into his football uniform, moving slowly, dread weighing down in his veins like lead. If he was lucky, he wouldn't even play, they'd keep him on the bench all night. He could stare at the field with its bright lights and booming speakers and the sharp scent of fresh-mown grass stinging his nose, and after a few hours he could just go back to his dorm room.

"Hey, Morgan, were you there?" Thornton called.

He looked up and frowned. "Where?"

"On the field yesterday," Willis said. "Didn't see you, did you leave as soon as they canceled practice?"

His mouth went dry. "Yeah," he said.

"Oh, you missed it, then," Lamb grinned. "Some of us got kinda bored."

"What'd you do?" Derek asked, struggling to keep his voice even and casual.

"You got airdrop turned on? I'll send you the pictures."

He managed to answer, but the noise in the locker room dulled in his ears. His phone buzzed, and he grabbed it out of his bag.

The rest of his team was already distracted, their conversations switching subjects, but Derek scrolled through the photos, his body going numb and cold. But it didn't take long before he had to close them out, the horror overwhelming him.

And then the horror faded into anger, hot and red and bubbling, and he stormed out of the locker, pushing past Maclain and his teammates, striding out into the hallway. He wanted to lash out, he wanted to scream, he wanted to destroy something, but he knew that losing his temper wasn't going to do nearly enough to balance this out.

He rapped sharply on the closed office door. "Come on in."

Coach Buford looked up from the play diagrams spread across his desk. "Derek," he said. "Are you doing all right, son? You look a little peaked."

"I have to talk to you," Derek said. He held out his phone. "Something happened on the football field yesterday. Something really bad. And I need you to help me."


Haley shifted her weight anxiously. "Why aren't they bringing us on for our halftime routine?" she asked. "We should have started five minutes ago."

Harper shrugged. "No clue," she said. She shook her pompoms together absently; the rustling noise sounded like a thousand cicadas. "I don't even know where the coaches are."

"Where's Alexa?"

"Where do you think?" Harper said, rolling her eyes. "Probably sucking face with Maclain somewhere."

Haley exhaled heavily, her hands on her hips. They never started late. The varsity squad had a reputation to uphold, and she was a part of that reputation, and she was starting to take it personally that she was still standing on the sidelines.

She tugged on the hem of her cropped uniform top as Harper snuck a peek at her phone. It was way too hot still, even though the sun had gone down, and she debated for a moment if she could run back and grab some water.

Suddenly Harper grabbed her elbow. "Oh my god," she said. "They just benched Thornton."

Haley frowned. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"I mean that Jordan just texted me and said that the coaches didn't give the guys a halftime locker room talk, they just started pulling people out," Harper said, frantically texting back. "And like, no good reason. Thornton's been doing fine."

"Maybe it's a mistake," Haley said. "Maybe there's something going on that we don't know about it."

Suddenly Alexa came running up to the rest of the squad, her curled blonde ponytail flying behind her. "John just got benched!" she said.

"Are you serious?" Harper said. "Why? What's wrong?"

"I don't know!" Alexa said. "The coaches just pulled him into the office and said he's benched for the rest of the game."

"So Thornton and Maclain?" Haley said.

"And like...six other guys," Alexa said.

"We can't play the rest of the game without the quarterback!" Harper protested.

Alex dabbed at her eyes carefully, trying not to mess with her makeup. "They're subbing in that sophomore boy, Derek Morgan," she said. "I don't understand. Do they just want us to lose?"

"Something weird is happening," Haley said. "Do you know why we haven't done our halftime routine?" Alexa shook her head.

A sharp whistle distracted her and she turned to see the cheer coaches making their way closer to them. Alexa smoothed out her hair and squared her shoulders. "Are we starting halftime?" she asked.

"Not exactly," the senior coach said. "We're not doing the routine tonight." She cleared her throat. "I have a list of names of people who are getting pulled from the rest of the game. You have to go right down to the football coach's office."

"How many?" Haley asked.

The coach checked the list of names. "Five," she said. "That includes you, Alexa. Go on."

All the color drained from Alexa's face. "Why?" she said. "What did I do?"

Haley grabbed Harper's hand. "What the fuck is happening?" she whispered, drawing back as the coach ushered Alexa and a couple of the other girls away from the field.

"I have no idea," Harper whispered back. "But it's not good."


She had avoided this all day. She wasn't good with kids. She wasn't good with sick people. A sick kid? This was the opposite of everything she was capable of handling.

"Don't look like that, Emily, it's fine," Dave said.

"Look like what?" she said.

"Like you're getting marched to your execution," he said. "Listen, I get it. It's hard trying to deal with all of this. But we need you to help Alex."

Emily sighed. "I know," she said. "I'll do my best. But if James can't convince her, I don't know why everyone thinks I can."

"You don't know her yet like James and I do," Dave said. "She's stubborn. She's got to hear multiple viewpoints before she'll listen and take things seriously. Go on."

He opened the door to Hotch's room and ushered her inside. Emily stayed close to the wall, suddenly unsure of what she should do with her hands.

The room wasn't big enough for five teenagers and a sick little kid. Hotch was sitting at his desk, his long gangly legs stretched out and his folded arms resting on the back of the chair. James sat crosslegged at the foot of the bed, a textbook on his knee, and Alex was resting against the stacked pillows with Spencer cuddled up against her side, half hidden securely under the blankets.

"Hey, guys," Dave said. "How's it going?"

"Not too bad," James said. He glanced over at Spencer, half asleep in Alex's arms. "He's been keeping down water and crackers, so I call that a success. And his temperature's down."

"That's good," Emily offered.

Hotch glanced up at her from the corner of his eye. "Prentiss, you ready for this?" he asked. She nodded.

James touched Alex's ankle lightly and she jumped. "What?" she asked, almost a little whining.

"You need to take a break," he said softly. "You've been in this room since yesterday. You've barely slept, you've barely eaten."

"He needs me," she said, eyes narrowing. "And I don't mind."

"He's doing a lot better," Hotch said. "He hasn't gotten sick in about ten hours, he's been sleeping. You can leave him with me and James, it'll be fine."

"And besides, you can't stay here another night and risk Strauss finding out you missed bedchecks," James pointed out.

Alex shrugged. "I never get in trouble," she said. "If she gives me a detention or something I'm sure my permanent record can handle it."

"Alex," James said, firmly enough that she looked up at him. "Take a break. Just for tonight."

"Who's going to stay with him?" she challenged. "Someone has to stay with him."

"Hotch can," Emily said. Alex turned to look at her. "They're right. You're running yourself into the ground real fucking fast. That's not good for you or the kid."

"But what if he wants me?" Alex objected.

Hotch got up from the desk and knelt down on the floor beside the bed. "Hey, Spencer," he said softly. "Wake up for a second, buddy."

"Uh-huh?" Spencer said sleepily, raising his head a little from Alex's shoulder.

"Alex needs to go back to her dorm for the night," Hotch said. He brushed Spencer's hair back from his forehead. "Will you be okay if I stay with you instead?"

Spencer nodded, pushing himself to sit up. "Yeah," he said, rubbing his eyes. "It's okay, Alex, Hotch can stay with me."

Hotch stood up, his hand on Spencer's shoulder; Spencer leaned his head against his hip. "You're sure?" Alex said. "Because I can stay. They can't tell me what to do."

"That's why they called in me and Emily to back them up," Dave said dryly. "We know how stubborn you are, Miller. We will drag you out of here if we have to."

Alex sighed, her shoulders sagging. "Fine," she said. She cupped Spencer's face in her hands and kissed his forehead. "But if anything's wrong, Hotch has to call me. You tell him, okay? If you need me, tell him he has to call me, and I'll come right over. And I'll be right back in the morning."

"He'll be fine," James reassured her as she got up. "Dave and I are going to stay for a while too. We'll keep a good eye on him. Don't worry."

Alex tucked Spencer back in under the covers; he was already almost asleep again. "I can't help it," she said.

"I swear, if anything happens, I'll text you," Hotch said.

Alex sighed. "Fine," she said. "Fine, I'll go, but I'll be back here in the morning." She bent over Spencer and kissed him, adjusting his favorite blanket so he could hug it to his chest.

"Yeah, we figured as much," Dave said. "But Emily is going to take you back to your dorm whether you like it or not."

Alex stood up and pressed her hands to her temples. "Hotch, I'm not kidding," she said quietly. "You can't leave him. You can't leave the room. He'll panic."

"I won't," Hotch promised.

Alex reluctantly picked up her bag from the floor. "All right, Prentiss, let's go, I guess," she said. She glanced back over her shoulder at Spencer already fast asleep, his blanket pressed to his cheek.

Emily nudged her lightly towards the door. "C'mon," she said. "Let the kid sleep. And when I say kid, I mean you. You look like you've been hit by a truck."

Alex rolled her eyes. "Thanks," she said shortly.

Emily fell silent, her attempts at lightening the mood dying down quickly. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to do or say. Mostly she wished she hadn't listened to Dave and gotten herself involved in all these feelings.

They walked outside into the quiet courtyard, the night air still heavy with humidity and fireflies buzzing around the lampposts. "Hey, can you hold this for me?" Alex asked, holding out the bag. Emily took it, slinging it over her shoulder, and Alex pulled the ribbon out of her hair and shook out her ragged braid.

"You doing okay?" Emily ventured.

Alex ran her fingers through her long hair. "Well, apparently I look like I've been hit by a truck," she quipped.

Emily sighed. "You know what I mean," she said. "This whole...thing."

"Yeah, I'm fine," Alex said. The last vestiges of yesterday's mascara were smudged around her eyes, and Emily had never seen her walk around campus in just a tee shirt and leggings before. "I should probably check and see what I missed in classes today. At least I have the weekend to get homework done. I can get it done while Spencer's sleeping."

Emily chose to keep her mouth shut as she swiped her keyfob and they walked into the quiet Roosevelt lobby. She was half tempted to text James and tell him to talk some sense into his not-girlfriend. Alex seemed to listen to him more than anybody else.

They had just made it to the stairs when the door to Strauss's office opened. "Oh, god, walk faster," Emily said under her breath.

"Excuse me, Miss Miller," Strauss called. Alex stopped, her hand on the railing, her back towards her. "I heard you missed bedchecks last night."

"It was an emergency situation, and my RA was made aware," Alex said quietly.

Strauss stood at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed. "I'm afraid that isn't an acceptable answer, Alexandra," she said. "If it was an emergency, I should have been informed as your head of house. Now, you've never been much of a troublemaker in your past three years here, but this kind of behavior is not permissible. We don't want you to jeopardize your position here during your senior year, now, do we?"

Alex turned around. Emily unconsciously took a step back. Alex's jaw was set stubbornly, her dark eyes glittering. "With all due respect, Ms. Strauss," she said, and her voice was low and cold and terrifying. "I just spent the past twenty-four hours taking care of a child who was too terrified to be left alone even for a second. I held him while he slept. I sat with him on a bathroom floor until my legs were so asleep I couldn't stand up on my own. I'm pretty sure I still have vomit on my shirt. You may not consider that to constitute an emergency, but I do."

Emily looked from Alex to Strauss and back. Strauss's eyes had gone owlishly, almost comically wide, but Alex stood ramrod straight, her hand resting on the banister, her chin raised in a challenge. "I apologize that you feel that I've done something wrong, but I haven't," Alex said. "If you would like to come up with some sort of punishment for my behavior that you find appropriate for the situation, then I'll accept it gladly. But I was where I was needed, and I won't apologize for that."

Strauss blinked a few times, her arms falling to her sides. "Well," she said, a little briskly, clearly caught off guard. "Let's just not make it a habit, shall we?"

She disappeared into her office, closing the door behind her. Emily turned to Alex, her mouth dropping open. "Holy shit, Miller," she said. "You have balls of steel. I can't believe you just did that. Little miss model pupil."

But to her surprise, Alex seemed to slump forward, her hand covering her eyes.

"Are...are you okay?" Emily asked. Alex crumpled forward, her other arm wrapping around herself, and her body started to shake. "Hey, are...are you crying?" She touched her back lightly. "Come on, Alex, don't cry."

Someone cleared their throat, and Emily looked at the bottom of the stairs to see a couple of sophomores gawking at them. "Um...can you move?" one of them said. "You guys are kind of in the way."

Emily's blood boiled. "You can fuck off," she snapped, dropping the bag. "There's enough room. And stop fucking staring at her."

She sat down and pulled Alex down to sit on the step below her. Alex leaned on her lap, hiding her face in her arms, and started to sob. Emily smoothed her long hair, ignoring the sophomores navigating around them on the stairs. "Go ahead and cry," she said softly. "I think you've earned it."

Alex sobbed, the sound muffled in her folded arms, and Emily sat with her in silence, stroking her hair and keeping her company as she cried. She couldn't do much to help, but she could do this.