Have you ever thought about what protects our hearts

Just a cage of rib bones and other various parts
So it's fairly simple to cut right through the mess
And to stop the muscle that makes us confess

And we are so fragile
And our cracking bones make noise
And we are just
Breakable, breakable, breakable girls and boys

-"Breakable" by Ingrid Michaelson


Penelope bit back a yawn as she closed her sticker-covered macbook and rested her chin in her hands. It was too damn early to be awake, much less already in the dining hall, but Dave had promised her the biggest, sugariest drink he could get from the Honeybean if she met him early, and that was an offer too good to pass up. And besides, she'd felt so useless in the past few days. This was the first thing she could do to be moderately helpful.

She took off her pink glasses and rubbed her eyes, momentarily grateful that it was too early to bother with makeup. The dining hall smelled like maple syrup and bacon, but students were just beginning to filter in for breakfast, leaving the cavernous space unsettling in its quiet.

She yawned abruptly, startling herself when her jaw popped. "Jesus, Pen, what was that?" Derek asked as he dropped his backpack on the back of the chair next to her.

"Don't make fun of me, I'm tired," she complained.

JJ sat down on her other side. "What did you have to do so early this morning?"

"An important mission," Penelope said. "Where's the baby?"

Derek nodded towards the door. "He and Hotch are coming," he said. "I don't think the kid slept at all last night. But he was in his own bed, so that's progress, I guess."

Penelope twisted around to get a better look. "Oh, no, from the looks of it I don't think either of them slept," she said. "Yikes on bikes."

"Maybe don't mention it though," JJ said, scrunching her nose in a wince. "I don't think Spencer or Hotch would be happy to hear that. They're doing their best."

Penelope bit back her thoughts as Hotch set down his backpack. Privately she thought he looked like a Tim Burton character with those dark circles under his eyes, but JJ was probably right. Most likely Hotch didn't want to hear her refer to him as Edward Scissorhands.

"How did you beat us over here?" Hotch asked, frowning at her.

"I had an important mission," she said. "Do you guys want to get in line? It's pancake day, you know how fast those go."

"Where's Alex?" Spencer asked anxiously.

"Probably trying to get Prentiss moving," Derek said. "I don't think Emily would be on time for anything if Alex didn't drag her along."

"What'd you say about me?" Emily asked, suddenly leaning over his shoulder.

Derek jumped. "Nothing," he said.

"Thought so," Emily said, raising a mock-warning eyebrow at him. "You're right, though. Guess who forgot to set her alarm?"

"Again," Alex said dryly. Her long hair hung loose around her shoulders; Penelope could see her hair ribbon dangling out of her blazer pocket. Spencer sidled up to her and leaned against her hip. "You'd sleep through all your classes if it wasn't for me."

"I'm a night owl!"

"You're nocturnal, that's what you are," Alex said. She brushed Spencer's hair back from his forehead. His sunburn was beginning to fade and peel, rough and white around his nose and mouth. "Hi, darling. Did you get some sleep?" Spencer shrugged, hiding his face in her side.

Emily clapped her hands. "Come on, it's pancake day, I'm not waiting for the rest of you," she said. She grabbed JJ by the wrist. "Let's go, Jayje!"

"Okay, okay, fine, don't pull my arm off!"

Penelope yawned again as she followed the other kids up to the line; Alex held Spencer's hand and Hotch trailed behind them. "Seriously, Pen, how early did you wake up this morning?" JJ asked.

"Too early," she said as she picked up a plastic tray and set it down on the rail. "I need caffeine in the worst way."

Alex picked up two plates and set them on her tray. "What do you want to eat?" she asked Spencer. "Do you want pancakes too?"

"I don't think I'm hungry, thank you," he said.

"You have to eat something, darling, it'll be a long time before lunch," Alex said. "There's scrambled eggs, but you don't like those. I'm getting toast, do you want that?" He shook his head. "What about oatmeal like Hotch?"

Derek snorted as he dropped a scoopful of eggs on his plate. "You don't want oatmeal like Hotch," he said. "Listen, I roomed with him all last year, and he eats the exact same breakfast every morning. Two bowls of oatmeal with nothing in it except raisins, and a yellow Red Bull."

Penelope paused. "Oh my god, you're right," she said. "I hadn't even realized. What a sad breakfast. Like a Dickensian orphan. Hotch, why do you eat such a sad breakfast?" Hotch didn't look up as he scooped oatmeal into the first bowl. "Hotchner." Another scoop. "Aaron Hotchner." He scowled to himself as he sprinkled raisins over the top. "Does anyone know his middle name?"

"Edward," Derek supplied helpfully.

"Aaron Edward Hotchner!"

Hotch blinked, scattering raisins across his tray. "What the fuck?" he said, perplexed.

"You weren't answering, it was desperate measures," Penelope said.

"Sorry, it's loud in here," Hotch said. He paused, his frown deepening as he looked down at his bowls of beige gloop, and tossed another spoonful of raisins on top. "What did I miss?"

"Why do you eat oatmeal with raisins on it every day?" Penelope asked. "That's so sad. There's nothing good in there. No sugar, no syrup, no peanut butter."

He shrugged. "I like oatmeal, I guess," he said. He looked down at his tray again. "And raisins."

"That's a lie. No one likes raisins."

"I like raisins."

Alex picked up a pancake and placed it on Spencer's plate. "What's got you stressed, bubba?" she asked.

"Gideon caught me on the way out of Lincoln House," Hotch said, dropping the scoop back in the raisins. "The headmaster wants to talk to me and Spencer after chapel today."

"Am I in trouble?" Spencer asked anxiously.

"No, sweetheart, I'm sure you're not in trouble," Alex reassured him. He didn't look reassured, biting down hard on his lower lip.

Hotch cleared his throat. "I'm going to get a drink," he said. "I'll get you something too."

Derek leaned over to Penelope. "Watch. Yellow Red Bull," he said. "He'll drink the original one if they don't have yellow, but he'll complain about it." Penelope laughed.

She carried her tray back to their usual table, balancing it carefully. Dave had taken the chair across from her. "As we discussed in your terms and conditions," he said, sliding a large cup across the table towards her.

"Thank you, kind sir," she said. She took a sip of the frothy, sugary, cold drink and sighed happily. "Your payment is deemed acceptable."

"Payment for what?" JJ asked.

"And why didn't you get coffee for everybody?" Emily said. "I could do with a latte."

"Penelope was the one who got up early to help me with a project, she earned that coffee," Dave said. "Although I don't really think it's coffee. That's a milkshake."

"A caffeinated milkshake," Penelope pointed out.

Alex set down her tray. "You're going to be bouncing off the walls by chapel," she laughed.

"And you'll crash by lunchtime," JJ added.

Spencer climbed into his seat as Alex put his plate down in front of him. "It's called reactive hypoglycemia," he said. "It typically happens about four hours after eating a meal high in carbs and sugar. So you'll probably crash sometime around third period."

"Thanks for the science, Dr. Reid," Emily said. She ruffled his long hair and he offered a tentative lopsided smile.

Hotch dropped his tray on the table and set a bottle of chocolate milk down in front of Spencer. "Here you go," he said. "Dave, are you not eating?"

Dave waved his hand dismissively. "I got a bagel at the Honeybean," he said. "But hey, everybody's here, I can show you the thing Penelope and I came up with."

"James isn't here," Alex objected.

"He already knows," he said. He pulled an iPhone in a plain purple case out of his blazer pocket and set it down in front of Spencer. "Here you go, passerotto."

Spencer looked down at it, frowned, and looked back up at Dave. "It's a phone," he said blankly.

"It's your phone," Dave said. "It was my mom's, but she just upgraded to the newest one. So it's secondhand, but like...barely used."

Spencer picked it up tentatively. "I don't know what to do with this," he said.

"Ah, see, yes, that's where I come in," Penelope said. She tapped in the passcode. "I did a little programming magic. It's super streamlined. You've got an internet browser, texting and calling, and some games I thought you'd like."

Hotch cracked the top of his yellow Redbull. "It's probably a good idea that you have your own phone," he said. "Just in case."

"That's what we thought!" Penelope said. She angled the phone so Spencer could watch her working over the screen. "So you have everybody's phone numbers, and I put you in the group chat. But also, I worked a little magic, and you have this now." She tapped a button, and suddenly everyone but Dave started fumbling in their pockets for their vibrating phones. "See? Magic! All you have to do is press this, and it'll send your location to everybody in the group."

"Baby girl, you're a genius," Derek said.

Penelope beamed. "Thank you, it's nice to be appreciated," she said.

Spencer was very quiet, looking down at the glowing screen of his new phone. "What do you think?" Alex asked.

"Thank you," he said in a small voice. "Thanks, both of you."

"I'll help you figure out the rest of it," Penelope said. "But you like it? The purple case was my idea."

"I like it," Spencer echoed. Penelope smiled at him, and he smiled back.


Dave tapped his pen idly against his desk, only half listening to Strauss's lecture. His desk was by the window and he could look out across the green yards of the campus. It had been a while since they'd all gone out to the creek, maybe they could manage it some afternoon. Or maybe he could even round everyone up at his house for one last swim in the pool before his parents closed it up for the season. It had been an unusually hot summer, but that usually led to a brief autumn and a sharp cold winter.

"I'm going to pass back your last writing assignment," Strauss was saying. "Now, I have to say that overall I wasn't exactly impressed. Please keep in mind that next week will be your first peer-reviewed assignment, so remember that you're going to be writing for an outside audience. And I'm sure your classmates will not be as nearly merciful on your work as I am."

Dave sat up. He'd been waiting to get his work back. His parents weren't so thrilled that he'd picked creative writing as his elective, not when he could have picked something a little more useful for his eventual law degree, but maybe if he could come home with high grades and effusive praise, they might relax a little bit about his hobby.

Strauss handed out papers one by one, continuing to talk about their upcoming assignment. He didn't want to think about the next assignment, he wanted to find out how he did on the first one.

She set his story in front of him, face down. He waited for her to move to the next student before he snatched it up and turned it over.

His score scrawled across the top in bright red ink. An eighty-four. A C-plus.

He stared at the page in shock. It wasn't like he was expecting an A; Strauss was a notoriously hard grader, even for her so-called easy classes. But he'd been hoping for at least a B, maybe a B plus. Not this.

Strauss checked her wristwatch. "Stop packing your bags, we still have time," she said. "Your next assignment will be due on Friday, and I'm looking for a minimum of three thousand words. I'll accept a maximum of seven thousand, but any more than that is too much, and quite honestly unnecessary." The bell rang, bright and jarring, and the other students around him jumped to their feet and grabbed their backpacks. "You're dismissed."

Dave packed up slowly, letting his classmates file out of the room. He slung his bag over his shoulder, but he held his assignment in his hands, tilting the page to ensure none of his classmates could see the grade.

Strauss didn't look up from her computer as Dave approached her desk. "Can I help you, Mr. Rossi?" she asked.

"I wanted to ask you about my grade," he said.

Strauss looked at the red letters, then back up at him. "Yes, you got a C," she said. "If you're trying to get me to raise it, I can already inform you that I have never changed a grade for a writing assignment."

"No, no, I'm not...necessarily asking for that," Dave said. "I'm just not sure why you gave me a C. I avoided passive voice, my grammar is correct, I don't think I made any punctuation errors…"

"Oh, no, technically you did a passable job," Strauss said. "But your story didn't meet the standards I asked for."

Dave frowned. "How?" he said, irritated.

Strauss laced her fingers together and met his gaze evenly. "The assignment was to write a fictionalized account of the most difficult situation you've ever dealt with," she said.

"I did."

"You wrote about missing an international flight and sleeping in a French airport overnight," Strauss said. "It doesn't matter how good your sentence structure or your punctuation is, your subject matter was uninteresting and offered nothing of any value to a reader."

He scowled. "What did you expect me to write about, then?" he said.

Strauss took off her glasses, folded the arms, and set them down on her desk. "Would you like me to be frank, Mr. Rossi?" she said.

"If you don't mind," he said, biting back the sharpness threatening to seep into his voice.

"A good writer brings their experiences into their writing to draw out depth of emotion and personal connection to a reader," she said. "I asked you to write about the most difficult situation you've ever dealt with, and you wrote about a skiing trip in Europe and sleeping on a couch in the business class lounge."

The back of his neck prickled. "And your point is?" he said.

She sighed. "My point is, Mr. Rossi, that I'm going to need a great deal more imagination from you if you expect to improve your creative writing," she said. "And quite frankly, your experiences make for very underwhelming stories. I need you to think outside the box a bit." She shuffled a stack of papers on her desk. "You'd better run along to chapel, unless you're planning on being tardy."

He wanted to say something back, sour and sarcastic, but he refrained. Instead he shoved his assignment into his bag, pressed his mouth into a firm straight line, and stalked out of the classroom.

He wasn't stupid. He could read between the lines. Strauss thought he was a spoiled, selfish rich kid. And maybe he was. But he wasn't a bad writer. And his life hadn't been perfectly easy. She didn't know what she was talking about.

He cut through a back stairwell, the heels of his oxfords striking the polished wood steps in satisfying thumps that echoed in the silence. Already he was running through possibilities for his next assignment. He'd show her. He'd prove her wrong.


Hotch folded his arms and tilted his head back against the unforgiving back of the church pew, staring into the dusty rafters. The school chaplain droned on and on through announcements, the words staticky and distorted in the PA system; he could only catch a handful of words here and there as he zoned out.

He was not looking forward to taking Spencer to talk to the adults. Not at all. There was no telling what they were going to do or say to him. Ideally their priority would be to make sure he was okay, but he had seen more than enough happen in Lincoln House over the past two years. Lincoln kids didn't get the benefit of the doubt. They got lectures. They got demerits. They got asked what they did to exacerbate the situation.

He rubbed his eyes, trying to make himself focus on the chaplain's announcements. But he couldn't think straight. He hadn't slept much the night before. Spencer had knocked timidly on his door at one-thirty, wide eyed and shaking after another bad dream, and it had taken forever to get him calmed down enough to go back to sleep in his own bed.

"...with family weekend coming up soon, please stay up to date with the activities itinerary. Your parents will get their own copy emailed as well, but all students should stay advised on the schedule of events…"

Oh god. Family weekend. Fuck.

He pressed his fingertips against his ears, momentarily blocking out the monotone voice. He never knew how to feel about family weekend. On one hand, he'd finally get to see Sean. On the other hand, he'd have to deal with his aunt and uncle barely tolerating him for three days.

Focus on Sean. That's all he needed to do. That was the point behind all of this, anyway- get good grades, use the insurance money he had in trust after his mother's death to go to college, apply to get custody of Sean as soon as he could. His little brother was all he had left, and they needed to stick together.

He allowed his mind to wander and settle, lulling himself to the point that he nearly dozed off, but as soon as the service ended and the chapel erupted into a dull roar of chatter, he pushed himself up and picked up his backpack, scanning the freshman section.

"Hey, Aaron!"

He jumped. "Oh," he said, scrambling to hold onto his bag. "Hi, Haley."

She smiled up at him. Today her soft blonde hair was curled around her shoulders, the sides pinned back with gold barrettes with little glittering stars. "Are you coming next Monday?" she asked.

"Uh," he said. "Yeah, uh...what's on Monday, again?"

"They announced auditions," she said. "For the musical, remember? Wedding Singer."

"Oh, yeah," he said. It felt like centuries ago that he had sat next to Haley on the couch backstage, listening to music with her. "Yeah, uh...I don't know if I should come."

"I really think you should," Haley said. "We always need guys in the musicals."

"I'll...I'll think about it," he stammered. His mouth had gone suddenly dry. She tilted her head, as if she was patiently waiting for him to say something else, but it was as if every thought had flown out of his head.

Alex walked up next to him, Spencer clinging tightly to her hand. "Hey," she said. "You ready to take him?"

He exhaled sharply. "Right," he said. "Yeah, I'm ready. C'mon, Spencer."

Spencer grabbed onto the hem of Alex's blazer. "I don't want to," he said. "I don't want to go."

"You need to talk to the grownups," she said. She pried his fingers away gently but he latched on even tighter. "Spencer, it's all right. Go with Hotch, and I'll see you at lunch." He buried his face in her side and she knelt down to hug him, speaking softly in his ear.

"Is he okay?" Haley asked quietly.

Hotch rubbed his eye. "I have to take him to talk to the headmaster about what happened," he said.

Haley nodded sympathetically. She opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something, then paused. "I hope everything goes okay," she said. She squeezed Hotch's arm lightly. "Let me know if I can do anything to help."

"Thanks," he said. "I...yeah. Thanks, Haley."

She offered him a last little smile before slipping away into the crowd, her Vera Bradley backpack slung across her shoulder. Hotch bit back a sigh.

"That was a deep sigh, bubba," Alex said as she smoothed Spencer's hair and straightened up. "Something going on?"

"Yeah," he said reluctantly. She glanced from him to Haley, then raised an eyebrow at him. He cleared his throat. "Let's get going, Spencer. The sooner we get there, the sooner we get it over with."

He held out his hand; Spencer grabbed onto his fingers tightly. Hotch walked him out of the chapel and back towards the main building, keeping his strides short so Spencer could keep up. He stayed silent. Spencer didn't need a pep talk right that second.

The administrative offices were in the oldest part of the building. There was something intimidating and cavernous about the empty silent halls and the rows of doors with their frosted glass windows and polished brass nameplates. Hotch ran his thumb over Spencer's knuckles as he approached the secretary's desk.

"Hi," he said, his voice echoing just the smallest bit. "We're supposed to talk to Dr. Ryan?"

She glanced up at him, then back at her computer. "Oh, yes," she said. "Just a moment, I'll let him know you're here." She got up from her desk and paused, looking him up and down. "You've grown quite a bit since the last time you were sent to the office, Mr. Hotchner."

He felt the back of his neck heat up in embarrassment and forced an awkward smile. He had absolutely no idea how to respond to that.

The secretary walked back towards them, her heels clicking briskly. "Go on in, they're ready for you," she said. Hotch squeezed Spencer's hand tightly and nudged him towards the office.

Dr. Ryan sat behind his desk, smiling pleasantly at them. "Mr. Hotchner, Mr. Reid," he said. "Come on in." Hotch sat down stiffly. The other heads of houses were there- Gideon, Cruz, and Strauss, all staring at him and Spencer. "How are you?"

"Fine, thank you, sir," Hotch said. He caught Gideon's eye and the older man gave him a slight nod. It was almost encouraging.

Dr. Ryan flipped through a file, skimming the pages, and closed it. "Let's get right down to it," he said. "We wanted to discuss the incident that happened a few days ago." Spencer looked up at Hotch, wide eyed and panicked. "Aaron, can you explain for Ms. Strauss and Mr. Cruz?"

Hotch shifted his weight and sketched out everything he knew. Spencer stared down at his shoes, just listening, occasionally nodding. The adults stared at him intensely as he spoke, and it made his skin crawl.

They were all silent for a moment after he finished talking. He sat very still, waiting for one of them to say something.

"Thank you, Aaron," Dr. Ryan said at last. "Now, these accusations are not something we're going to take lightly-"

"With all due respect, Max, these aren't accusations, there's goddamn video evidence," Gideon interrupted.

"Jason, language," Strauss said under her breath.

"It's not something we're going to take lightly," Dr. Ryan continued. "Especially taking Spencer's age into consideration. You skipped a few grades, correct?"

"I'm...I'm ten," Spencer said in a small voice.

Strauss did a doubletake. "He's ten years old?" she said. "Max, who approved his admission? He's too young to be here."

Dr. Ryan shrugged. "You'll need to take that up with the admissions board," he said. "His test scores are astronomical and he's already getting As and Bs in his classes, so I don't think we need to put his intellect under scrutiny today." He cleared his throat. "Now, Spencer, looking at your record, this isn't the first incident you've had since the school year began. I see there was an altercation in your gym class a few weeks ago?"

"He was bullied by some older boys in his grade, they pushed him down and-" Hotch started to say.

"No, no…" Dr. Ryan said, flipping through the papers on his desk. "There was another incident...Spencer apparently put glue on sports equipment?"

Spencer had gone completely pale, his eyes glazed over as if he had zoned out completely. "Like I said, the bigger boys targeted him," Hotch said, gritting his teeth.

"Retaliation is not acceptable, Mr. Hotchner," Dr. Ryan said calmly. "We had enough discussions about that subject during your freshman year that I think you ought to remember. Perhaps Spencer should have talked to a teacher instead of taking things into his own hands."

"He did, and the teacher sent Spencer to detention," Hotch said flatly.

"Well, if the teacher thought that Spencer-"

Hotch leaned forward in his chair. "No!" he said. "No, there was no reason to send Spencer to detention. If it was truly necessary, the bullies should have been sent too. But like always, the Lincoln House kids get the brunt of the punishment while the rich kids get a slap on the wrist."

"Aaron," Dr. Ryan warned, and Hotch leaned back, crossing his arms tight across his chest. "Inappropriate outbursts will not be tolerated."

Gideon shifted his weight. "Max, come on," he said, waving his hand. "You're seriously trying to tell me that this little kid should have been nicer and that could have prevented him from getting assaulted?"

"Assault is a strong word, Jason," Strauss said.

"Have you seen the video, Erin?" Cruz said. "Assault seems like the right term to me."

"Well, I haven't seen it, but-"

"Max, there's no reason to get the poor kid worked up, just get whatever you need and let him go back to class," Gideon said. "And stop giving Aaron a hard time. You know as well as I do that he's been a model student since his freshman year."

Dr. Ryan sighed heavily. "Aaron, if you don't mind waiting in the hallway, we'd like to talk to Spencer privately, please," he said.

Spencer whipped his head around to stare up at Hotch in frightened desperation. "I'm his resident advisor, can't I sit in on this?" Hotch asked.

"I'm afraid not," Dr. Ryan said. He nodded towards the door, and Hotch got up reluctantly.

"I'm sure we'll discuss everything with you once we have the chance to talk to Spencer," Cruz reassured him.

He was not reassured, but he got up from his chair and squeezed Spencer's narrow shoulder, then slipped out into the hallway. There was no point in arguing. All he could do was wait, and hope that Spencer could speak up for himself.


Alex yanked the ribbon out of her hair, shaking it free down her back. "Okay, can you guys stop bickering for two seconds?" she said, exasperated.

"We're not bickering, we're bantering," Penelope said.

"Just stop," Alex sighed. "JJ, please eat something other than French fries. You're going to keel over at soccer practice if you only eat junk."

JJ popped a fry into her mouth. "It's okay," she said. "I might quit soccer anyway."

Alex frowned. "I thought you liked soccer," she said. "You're so good at it."

"But I might quit," JJ countered.

Alex sighed. "I don't have time to unpack that," she mumbled to herself as JJ dumped more salt on her fries.

She twisted around in her seat to watch the dining hall door as she combed her fingers through her hair and started to weave it into a braid. Hotch and Spencer should be back, she wasn't sure why they weren't.

James sat down next to her. "Here's the fork you forgot," he said, holding it out.

"Thanks," she said absently, tangling her hair around her fingers as she frowned at the closed door.

"Come on, Ariel, take the dinglehopper," he teased. She scrunched up her nose in confusion at him. "Sorry, stupid joke." He slid off his blazer and draped it over the back of his chair. "Are you still worried?"

"They should be back by now," she said.

"They'll be here soon, I'm sure," he said. He touched her shoulder lightly. "Really. It'll be okay. Anything I can do to help?" She just shrugged.

Emily sat down across from Alex. "Hey, do you guys know what's up with Rossi?" she asked. "He got partway through the line and then ditched. Something about how he has an assignment to work on, but like...when would he ever skip lunch to do homework?"

"Maybe college applications," James suggested.

Alex pressed her fingertips to her temples. "Oh, fuck," she groaned. "Those are due soon."

"And scholarship applications too," he added. "Maybe that's what's got Rossi stressed out."

Emily stood up to lean around Derek and grab a bottle of ketchup. "Well, there's a party in town coming up soon," she said. "Maybe that'll help him unwind."

"Or maybe you just want him to go to the party so you can go with him," James said.

Emily grinned. "I might have some ulterior motives," she said as she dumped ketchup over her fries. "I need to do something that isn't homework."

"You don't do your homework."

"I do sometimes."

"Well, I can go ahead and tell you that if there's anything going on over family weekend, Dave won't be available," James said. "His parents always make a big deal over that."

"Oh god, I'll have to find something to do during that," Emily said. "I guess you guys will all be busy with your families and shit?"

"Probably," Alex said. "You won't be?"

Emily rolled her eyes. "Like the Ambassador would come over here from Italy for a three day weekend to talk about what I'm learning in school," she said.

"Oh, don't say it like that," Alex said. "I'm sure she cares, she's just busy."

"When I got expelled in Rome last year, she went to the wrong school for the parent-teacher conference," Emily said dryly.

"Oh," Alex said. "Well…"

James frowned, his fork halfway to his mouth. "You got expelled?" he said. "What else are you hiding, Prentiss?"

She grinned. "I'm a woman of mystery, Blake," she said. "So is everyone else having family coming in for this thing? Am I going to have to remember eight million sibling names?" Alex covered her face with her hands and screeched in frustration. Emily jumped. "What the hell was that?"

"It's bad when she makes the pterodactyl noise," James explained.

Alex pressed her hands to her temples. "Danny and Scotty," she said. "My parents are going to make Danny and Scotty come with them for family weekend, and they're going to be absolute nightmares. I just know it."

"Your brothers are really that bad?" Derek said.

"It's every sitcom stereotype you've ever seen about jock brothers picking on their nerdy sister," Alex sighed. "And I cannot change the channel."

"Oh, that's bad," JJ said.

"You do scream overachieving middle child, now that I think about it," Emily teased.

Derek suddenly sat up. "Shit, Hotch and Spencer are here," he said. "You think they're okay?"

"Neither of them look great, actually," Penelope said.

"Yeah, Hotch kind of looks like a zombie," Emily added.

"I was thinking Edward Scissorhands."

"Oh, that's a good one."

Hotch dropped his backpack on an empty chair. "Hey," he said tersely. Spencer stood half-hidden behind him, his eyes downcast. "Did we miss anything?"

"Nothing at all," James said. "Everything okay?"

Alex held out her hand to Spencer, but he shook his head and drew back, his lower lip wobbling. She dropped her hand. "Alex, can I talk to you?" Hotch asked.

"Of course," she said, getting up quickly. "Spencer, go get something to eat."

He shook his head, but Derek slid his chair back from the table. "Come on, pretty boy, I'll help you out," he said.

"Let him eat whatever he wants today, I don't care what he eats as long as he eats something," Alex said.

"You got it, mama," Derek said, steering Spencer towards the line. Hotch took Alex by the wrist and tugged her over to a quiet corner.

"What happened?" she asked.

"Well, they only let me in the room for the first half of the conversation, when they basically told Spencer that if he'd just been a little nicer none of this would have happened," Hotch said bitterly. She stared at him in horror. "Yeah, that was my reaction too."

"Did he get in trouble? Is he being punished?" she demanded.

"He might have, if Gideon hadn't spoken up," Hotch said. He exhaled sharply. "God, I just wish they'd let me stay with him the whole time. I don't know what they said after I left, he won't tell me."

"Well, are they going to punish the kids that hurt him?" she said.

Hotch shrugged, his mouth drawing down. "I don't know," he said. "I didn't see any of them getting called into the office." He sagged back against the wall. "All I know is Dr. Ryan scolded him for 'engaging in retaliation' and warned him to be on his best behavior, but they'll move him out of all the classes he has with the kids who've been bullying him. And that his hair was too long and out of dress code, so he has to get it cut."

Alex looked across the dining hall, trying to catch a glimpse of Spencer in the crowd. She wanted to tell Hotch not to worry. She wanted to tell him that it was going to be okay. She wanted to tell him that everything would work out, and there'd be some sense of justice at the end of the day. But she didn't believe any of it herself, and the words died on her lips.


Spencer tugged the cuffs of his cardigan sleeves over his hands and kept his head down as he walked down the hall, blending into the crowd. Fourth period was finally over; if he got through the next two classes then that would mean that he survived the entire day. Alex and Hotch had told him that he didn't need to finish out the day if he didn't want to, that he could go back to his room and try to catch up on his sleep. Part of him really wanted to give in. He was so tired; he hadn't slept more than an hour or two the night before. But he needed to do this. He didn't know exactly why he felt so desperate to hold out, but he did.

His stomach hurt. But he could get through two classes. He could.

The grownups had told him that he just needed to be tougher, that it was inevitable that he'd get picked on and he just needed to learn how to handle it better. And he couldn't be a baby either, that being a crybaby about it would just make it worse for himself.

He walked into his history classroom, and he stopped dead in his tracks. Neal and Dallas were already there, twisted around in their seats to stare at him as he stood in the doorway. He took a deep, shuddering breath and took a step forward towards his desk.

Neal and Dallas stared him down. Spencer backed away, his chest constricting tight, and he broke into a run.

He tore through the emptied hallways as the bell rang, his backpack thumping against his spine. Hot tears smarted behind his eyes, blurring his vision. For some reason he couldn't breathe. He didn't know why. He didn't know why he couldn't just walk into the classroom and sit down at his desk and not be a crybaby.

His shoes skidded on the floor as he threw himself at the bathroom door and flung himself inside, tumbling the ground. The tile was ice cold under his palms and his backpack slid off his shoulders. He just needed to take a second to pull himself together, and then he could go back to the classroom like nothing had happened.

Spencer curled up against the floor, his ragged breathing roaring in his ears. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe, and no matter how he fought it, he couldn't stop the tears rolling down his cheeks. And no one knew he was there, no one would know to look for him, it was happening again, no one would be able to find him...

He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out the phone Penelope had given him, the purple neoprene case slippery in his grip. The screen was a bright blur, but he fumbled for the app Penelope had made and pressed the button. It chimed pleasantly but he didn't bother to see if it was working; he dropped it to the floor and pulled desperately at the collar of his shirt, trying to catch his breath.

He tried to close his eyes. He tried to think of something else. He tried to tell himself that he was fine, that he was imagining all of this and it was all in his head. He curled himself tight against the wall, bracing himself.

His breathing caught in his throat, thin and thready and rattling in his lungs, and with his eyes closed he just saw Neal and Dallas staring at him, their smiles wolfish and hungry, and it felt like his heart was going to beat so fast that it would break through his ribs.


James felt his phone vibrate in his pocket as he walked into the biology classroom and set down his backpack slowly as he frowned at the screen. The number texting him was unfamiliar, and when he unlocked the screen he saw a map with a blinking purple dot.

"What the hell is happening?" he mumbled, but then he read the text just above.

this is the Spencer SOS- please come get me!

"Oh, god, Penelope's app," he said to himself. He grabbed up his phone. "Uh...Dr. Cole? Did you have anything for me to do this period?"

Dr. Cole looked up from her computer. "Not particularly," she said. "Maybe some photocopying. Why, is something wrong?"

"Potentially," he said.

"Go on then," she said. "Don't worry about it, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Thank you so much," he said, picking up his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder. He liked working as a teacher's aide for Dr. Cole, but most likely everyone else was in class and wouldn't check their phones.

He opened the map and followed the blinking purple dot. The hallways were silent, just the faint murmur of teacher's voices behind closed doors. The map led him to a bathroom near the history classrooms, and he pushed the door open cautiously, afraid of what he might find.

Spencer curled up tight against the wall, gasping for breath. James dropped his backpack and knelt down next to him. "Hey, buddy, what happened?" he asked. Spencer yelped as he touched his back. "It's okay, Spencer, it's just me, it's James."

Spencer looked up at him, his eyes glassy. "I can't breathe," he whimpered.

James hoisted him into a sitting position, bracing his back against his chest. "You'll be okay, I've got you," he said. "Did somebody hurt you?" Spencer shook his head. "Did somebody scare you?" He nodded. James shifted him around so he could lean his head on his shoulder. "Okay, kiddo. I think you're having a panic attack."

He pried Spencer's cardigan off of him, then loosened his tie. Spencer kept gasping for air, his breath catching in half strangled sobs. "I want you to breathe in while I count to four, okay?" he said. "And then breathe out for four. Can you do that for me?"

He wasn't sure if Spencer agreed, but he started counting anyway. At first Spencer could barely follow him, but James stayed patient, and soon his breathing began to slow down and even out. James rubbed his back, slow and rhythmic, hoping the pressure would help ground him.

After a while Spencer leaned away from him, rubbing his bloodshot eyes. "I can go back to class now," he said in a small, shaky voice.

"No, buddy, I think you're done with class for the day," James said. Spencer's lower lip trembled. "You did really good. You've had a tough day. Besides, I bet you're pretty tired now."

"Yeah," he admitted reluctantly.

"Tell you what," James said. "I'll text Alex and see if she can open the library early. Maybe Dave can pick up coffee or something. We'll just go chill there for awhile. How does that sound?"

Spencer nodded hesitantly. "I'm sorry," he said in a small voice. He rubbed his eyes. "All I did...all I did was just...see them, and I-"

"Don't be sorry," James said. "Panic attacks are caused by stress and traumatic events. And I think it's safe to say that you've gone through both lately. Don't be so hard on yourself. I know that's easier said than done, but try to remember that, okay?"

Spencer nodded. James texted Alex first, then Dave, and waited for Spencer's breathing to completely slow back down to normal patterns. "Alex is on her way," he said at last. "Let's get out of here before classes are over and the halls get busy." He stood up and pulled Spencer to his feet, then picked up both backpacks. Spencer was pale and visibly shaky, but he walked alongside him out of the bathroom.

They were almost at the library when they heard it; there was a catwalk on the third floor that let them look down on a second floor flight of stairs and an open hall far below. First it was the raised voices, and then the heavy footsteps.

"What the hell is going on? What are you doing?"

"Your guardians are coming to pick you up."

"What about my stuff? Can't I go back to my dorm?"

"Your belongings will be sent back to you."

James leaned over the catwalk railing to see better. A tall redheaded boy in a St. Thaddeus uniform struggled in the grip of two of the school's security officers. "What the fuck?" he shouted. "Let go of me! Come on. This can't be happening!"

Spencer pressed himself against James's side. "He's one of them," he whispered.

"One of who?" James asked. Spencer didn't answer, but it clicked, and James leaned away from the railing.

The footsteps died down as a door shut heavily, and the protesting voice faded away. "Can we go see Alex now?" Spencer said in the hushed silence.

James took his hand. "Yeah, let's go see Alex," he said.


Derek walked into the common room and frowned. "Where is everybody?" he asked.

"Emily's cutting Spencer's hair in Hotch's bathroom, and there wasn't enough room for everyone so we got kicked out," Penelope said, her laptop screen reflecting in her glasses. "Once they're done we're going to dinner." She paused. "You're back early."

Derek dumped his football bag on the floor. "They cut practice short," he said. "Jayje, did you even go to soccer?"

"Nope, I skipped," JJ said. She turned a page in her book. Derek frowned, but he didn't press for more information. He had other things to think about.

He headed down the hallway to Hotch's room. Hotch was lying on his bed, his long gangly limbs stretched out with his eyes closed and his headphones on. James sat on his desk, and Dave was leaning against the bathroom doorway. "Hey," Derek said. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, I'm just not sure it was a good idea to trust Prentiss with scissors," Dave said, peeking his head around the bathroom door. "We're really trusting Prentiss with sharp objects?"

Emily leaned out and snapped the scissors at him; Dave jumped back. "Listen, I've cut my hair on so many occasions," she said. "I think you can trust me to cut Spencer's hair. I'm almost done and it looks pretty good, I think."

"Please be careful," James called.

"I will! I will! Jesus, it's like you think I'm going to cut one of his ears off or something," she said.

Derek looked into the bathroom. They'd pulled Hotch's desk chair into the bathroom; Spencer had a towel over his shoulders and his blanket in his hands. His long hair, newly shorn, littered the floor. "Are we done yet?" he asked.

"Almost," Emily said, clipping at another strand.

"You're doing really well," Alex told him. She sat on the edge of the bathtub, her hands on Spencer's knees. "And you look really nice with short hair."

Spencer squirmed as she cut off another piece. "Hold still, or she really will cut one of your ears off," Dave warned.

"David Rossi, don't scare him," Alex scolded.

"Is it over yet?" Spencer complained.

"Not yet, not yet," Emily said. She kept cutting and trimming, the silver scissor blades catching the light, and after a moment she took a step back and raked her fingers through his newly short hair, curling at the edges. "I think that's it. You're done."

Alex pulled the towel off his shoulders, shaking the loose shorn strands away, and he slipped down from the chair. "You look so different," Derek said.

"I'm gonna miss the little ponytail," Emily sighed.

Spencer stared at himself in the bathroom mirror, poking at his newly short hair. "Go show JJ and Pen, I'm sure they'll want to see," Dave said.

"Okay," Spencer said reluctantly, still holding onto his blanket as he headed down the hall to the common room.

As soon as he left, Derek closed the dorm room door and turned around. "Guys," he said. "Hotch, take your headphones off, this is important."

"Why? What's going on?" James said.

Alex tapped Hotch's ankle and he took off his headphones, frowning. "Did something happen?" she asked.

"I know what's happening to the jackasses that hurt Spencer," Derek said.

Hotch sat up. "What?" he said. "What do you know?"

"Well, they expelled Thornton," Derek said. "A couple of second-stringers got kicked off the football team. But everybody else just got suspended from the next football game, and then they're all back. Football players and cheerleaders. Maclain got bumped from quarterback, and Alexa Lisbon lost captain, but that's it."

"So it'll be like it never happened?" James said. "That's bullshit."

"Why did Thornton get expelled but no one else?" Davde said.

"Because he's Lincoln House, and everybody is in Roosevelt and Kennedy," Hotch said. "Let me guess. The people who just got suspended have parents who donated a lot of money?"

"Yeah, they told us we're getting a new team bus for away games," Derek said. "It's bullshit. It's total fucking bullshit. They think they can just throw some money around and now it won't even show up on their permanent records."

"There's nothing else they're going to do?" Alex said at last. "No other punishments? No consequences?"

"Not that I know of," Derek said. "I heard they're trying to figure out who lured Spencer out there, since he doesn't remember. Whoever told him to go out there will be in trouble. But whoever did it isn't saying anything, and no one else is fessing up."

"Jesus," Emily breathed. "This is fucked up."

The other kids fell silent, but the door opened and Spencer walked in. "They liked it," he said, but he didn't sound particularly excited about it. "And they want to know if we can go to dinner now."

Hotch got up. "Yeah, we can go," he said. He ran his fingers through Spencer's short hair. "You look good, kid."

"You know what?" Dave said. "Maybe this is what you needed, passerotto. A fresh start."

Spencer didn't seem convinced. He sidled up to Alex and leaned heavily against her. Alex swept his hair back and kissed his forehead. Derek wanted to punch something. This wasn't a fresh start. This was everything getting swept under the rug, and forgotten, but Spencer wasn't going to forget any time soon. None of them would.

But they had to keep moving forward, whether they liked it or not.


Author's Notes:

Happy 2021! I'm back!

If you follow me on tumblr, you might know that I've had a really rough couple of months. I was working my crazy holiday hours as a personalization artist at Animal Kingdom, and both me and my boyfriend had covid. It's...it's been a difficult time.

But I'm excited to be back! This took me a while to get this chapter up and running- I missed writing these babies, but also it was tough getting back into it. I had to take some breaks, and go back and do some rewrites, but I'm really happy with how it turned out, and I'm setting up a lot of new plotlines (I'm so excited to write family weekend, there's a lot of things that are going to happen.)

But please let me know what you think! I'm so excited to be back to writing again!