And sometimes when you're on, you're really fucking on
And your friends they sing along and they love you.
But the lows are so extreme that the good seems fucking cheap
And it teases you for weeks in its absence.

But you'll fight and you'll make it through
You'll fake it if you have to and
You'll show up for work with a smile.
You'll be better and you'll be smarter and more grown up
And a better daughter or son and a real good friend,
And you'll be awake,
You'll be alert, you'll be positive though it hurts

And you'll laugh and embrace all your friends
You'll be a real good listener, you'll be honest, you'll be brave
You'll be handsome and you'll be beautiful.
You'll be happy.

-"A Better Son/Daughter" by Rilo Kiley


"You guys really didn't have to come for breakfast," James said. "It's so early."

"Oh, yes, we did," Charlie said, squeezing his arm lightly as Ned locked the car and dropped the keys in his pocket. "I took a day off for this. I did sub plans. And you know that I would rather teach my kindergarteners while puking than write sub plans, so we are going to make the most of it."

James bit back a sigh as they started the walk across the parking lot. "I live at home, Mom," he said. "You see me literally every day. You don't have to come to family weekend."

"It's your senior year, Mini," Ned said. "Let your mother have this."

"You're my only child! You're going to graduate and leave the nest!" Charlie said. "I can't believe you're already a senior. Ned, are we old enough to have a senior in high school?"

"I sure hope so," Ned said dryly.

Charlie reached for James's hand and squeezed it. "We should have had more babies," she said. "How did you end up an only child? What am I going to do without when you go off to college?"

"Mom, it's barely the end of September, you've got almost a year before I go to college," he said. "And you know I'll be home for every holiday."

"I know, but it doesn't really soften the blow," Charlie said. "It seems like only yesterday that you were crying because you had to go to the other kindergarten class instead of mine."

"You're going to tell my friends that story, aren't you?"

"Probably. I have the pictures too."

"Mom."

But he laughed as he said it. They'd always been a close knit family, just the three of them and the bakery and the little house he'd lived in his whole life. And truth be told he would probably be just as sad to leave them as they would be to see him go off to school.

It was still early in the morning, early enough that the skies still held a hint of deep blue at the edges, but the dining hall doors were propped open and festooned with a welcome banner. "Do you think the rest of your friends will be here soon?" Ned asked.

"Oh, they're already here," James said. "Hopefully they saved enough seats."

The hall was half filled with students in their uniforms and their out-of-place parents. He could spot Alex's red hair from a mile away at their usual table; she'd curled it and tied the sides back with a wide blue velvet ribbon. She only curled her hair on special occasions or when she was worried and felt like she needed to look more grown up. He had a feeling it was a little of both.

"We are already off the itinerary! We're running so behind!"

"Penelope, I hate to break it to you, but nobody read it."

"I worked so hard on them!"

James sidled up between Derek and Penelope, cutting off their squabbling. "Hey, guys," he said. "Guess who followed me in?"

Penelope whipped around, nearly tipping her chair over. "The Blakes!" she said. "This wasn't on the itinerary!"

"Pen, I think you need to give up," JJ said, patting her on the shoulder. Penelope sighed heavily.

Emily leaned on her elbows. "Did you guys bring us any baked goods?" she asked.

"Not today, I'm afraid, but I can send James with some cookies next week," Ned said. "Oh, or maybe cupcakes. How do you guys feel about cupcakes?"

Spencer looked up from his book. "I like cupcakes," he said hopefully.

"Put your book down for just a little bit and eat something," Alex said, holding out his fork. He sighed heavily and set the book down beside his plate.

"Make the chocolate chip cookie dough cupcakes and split the difference," Charlie suggested.

"That's a thing?" Emily said. "Yes, please, make those."

James tugged at his tie as he sat down between Alex and his dad. He hadn't been stressed about family weekend before, but now the nervousness radiating around their group was leeching into him. The younger kids were bouncing around and talking over each other, Alex and Hotch were both impeccably dressed but completely silent, and Emily's eyeliner could only be described as aggressive.

"Where's Dave?" he asked.

Penelope looked at the pink schedule in her hands. "According to this, he'll be arriving within the next ten minutes with his parents," she said.

"Oh, there he is," Alex said, tucking an imaginary loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I don't see his parents though."

Penelope wadded up the pink paper and threw it towards the nearest trash can, missing it completely. "Yeah, this thing is useless," she sighed.

"David looks angry," Charlie commented. "David, darling, why are you angry?"

Dave rolled his eyes. "You've met my parents," he said. "I told them it'd be more sensible to take the same car."

"Yeah, that's what we did," Ned said.

"Well, the rest of the Rossis decided to drive themselves, so who knows when they're going to show up," Dave said. He jammed his hands in his pockets. "My mom probably made my dad stop at Starbucks, it'll be a while."

Alex drummed her fingertips on the table, staring off into space. "You okay?" James asked softly.

She froze. "Oh, shit," she said.

"Oh, shit, what?" he said. "Are you okay?"

"They're here already," she said, half rising from the table. "Oh god. Okay." She ran her hands down her red plaid skirt. "They weren't supposed to be here until later."

Spencer squinted up at her. "Why are you nervous?" he asked.

"I'm not nervous."

"She's not nervous until she starts mumbling songs under her breath," James said.

"I don't do that," Alex said as she adjusted the ribbon in her hair. "Okay, they saw me. Oh, god. Okay."

"You look like you're bracing yourself for a tornado," Emily said.

"That's kind of what's about to happen," Dave said.

Suddenly two tall dark-haired boys ran across the dining hall and tackled Alex; the tallest of the two swept her up off the floor. "Jesus, Daniel, put me down!" she shrieked.

"You haven't seen me in months and that's the first thing you say to me?" Danny said. "I bet you didn't even think I was coming!"

"I didn't!" she said, gripping the shoulders of his shirt. "I'm glad you're here, just please put me down!"

"Alex, are you being kidnapped?" Penelope asked.

"No, no, I know them," Alex said, still struggling to escape. "These are my brothers, Danny and Scott."

Danny dropped her down to the ground. "Hey, y'all," he said.

"Did you actually make more friends, Lexy?" Scott asked. Emily snickered loudly and Alex shot her a dirty look. "Wow, it only took you three years of boarding school."

Alex tugged down the hem of her blazer, her face turning as red as her hair. "I've always had friends, Scott," she snapped.

"Yeah, but like...now you've got more than just Blake and Rossi," Danny said. He ruffled her hair, messing up the ribbon. "Good for you."

"Stop teasing your sister!"

James leaned his arms on the table as Alex's parents caught up to them. She really was a carbon copy of her mother- the same sharply delicate features and brown eyes- but her brothers were an even balance between both parents, although Scott was taller than Alex by a few inches despite being four years younger, and Danny towered over her completely.

"Sorry, Mom, we can't help it," Scott grinned.

Catherine shook her head. "Go get some waffles or something, stop annoying her," she said, and both boys took off for the breakfast line.

"There's my little girl!" Damon Miller said, his voice carrying a little too far across the dining hall.

Alex tried to smooth her hair back; she was fighting a losing battle. "Hi, Dad," she said, clearly trying to keep some semblance of composure.

Damon pulled her into a tight hug and kissed her on the cheek. "Missed you, princess," he said.

She hugged him back, but the embarrassed flush didn't leave her face. "Missed you too," she said. "I thought you guys were coming later."

"That was your dad's idea, they had an earlier flight available and he thought we should surprise you," Catherine said. She took her turn to hug her daughter. "I told him we should have warned you."

"Yeah, a little warning would have been appreciated," Alex sighed.

Catherine took a step back, squeezing her arms lightly and smiling at her. "Well, it's good to see you," she said. "Now, which one is Emily?"

Emily raised her hand. "Present," she said.

"Well, it's nice to meet our girl's roommate," Damon said, shaking her hand. Emily glanced over at Alex, clearly off guard. "This isn't the same one with the Hello Kitty backpack, is it?"

"No, Dad, that was Elle, we were roommates freshman year," Alex reminded him.

"Are your parents here, honey?" Catherine asked.

"Uh...no," Emily said. "My mom lives overseas, she can't make it."

Catherine frowned. "Oh, I'm so sorry," she said. "Well, you're Alex's roommate, so you're practically family. You can stick with us for the weekend."

Damon had already gone over to say hello to Ned; Catherine patted Emily's shoulder and went over to talk to Charlie. Alex sank back down in her seat with a heavy sigh. "So...Lexy, is it?" Derek said with a grin.

"Do not call me Lexy," she said, yanking the ribbon out of her hair.

"Your brothers are so cute," Penelope said. "How old are they?"

"No."

"Your family is so nice," JJ said.

"They're very nice, they're just...a lot," Alex sighed.

Dave rolled his eyes. "I think being a lot is a requirement for parents around here," he said. "Speaking of which...Mom! Dad! Stop wandering around! I'm over here!"

"Yell a little louder, Dave, I don't think they heard you," Hotch said.

"Oh, you say that, Hotchner, they definitely didn't hear me," Dave said. "You see them wandering around over there?" He cupped his hands around his mouth. "Mother! Father!" He sat back. "Jesus." He stood up. "Isabella! Isabella Rossi!"

"Now she hears you," James said.

Dave pinched the bridge of his nose. "Lord, give me strength to get me through this weekend," he mumbled.


Emily trailed along behind the group as they walked across campus to chapel. The only saving grace to this stupid weekend was that it was a short day, in order to do all the stupid family shit. She didn't have to go to first period or homeroom, and afternoon classes were canceled so parents would attend house meetings. And since she didn't have a parent to observe her classes or go to the Roosevelt meeting, maybe she just wouldn't go to classes at all.

"Emily, Spencer, come on, we're leaving you behind," Penelope called.

Emily shrugged. She didn't care much, but Spencer was definitely dragging, his head down and his book hugged to his chest. She caught up to him and pinched his shoulder lightly. "Are you okay, passerotto?" she asked.

"I'm fine," he said.

He didn't seem fine. If she had to hazard a guess, he was probably just as done with this whole situation as she was.

Hotch stopped on the path and waited for them, letting the rest of the group go on ahead. He looked like he wanted to say something, but instead he just held out his hand to Spencer. Spencer immediately grabbed it. "We'll do something fun later," he said. "Maybe Sunday night, when everybody's gone home and things are back to normal."

"Sure," Emily said. "Fine. Sounds great."

Hotch frowned at her. She stared back at him coolly. Their silent argument was interrupted by Spencer tugging on Hotch's hand. "Could you carry me, please?" he asked quietly.

"Are you feeling okay?" Hotch asked as he picked him up. "You didn't eat much at breakfast. Are you sick?" Spencer didn't say anything, but he leaned his head on Hotch's shoulder, still holding onto his book.

Emily walked behind them towards the chapel, catching up to the rest of the group. "Oh, whose parents are those?" she said.

"Well, since they're hugging JJ...I'm guessing JJ," he said. Emily raked her hair back from her face and rolled her eyes at him; he didn't seem to notice. She hadn't thought about how this weekend would have to be a steady stream of introducing herself to strange adults and being on her best behavior.

Alex's younger brother popped up at her elbow and she jumped in surprise. "So you're really from Italy?" he said. She stared at him blankly. What was his name? Sam? Something like that. "What's the McDonald's like over there? Do you have a McDonald's?"

Emily laughed. "I mean, yeah," she said.

"Do they just have, like, spaghetti and stuff? Or normal things?" Scott asked. (His name was Scott, she remembered that now.)

"We eat more than just pasta in Italy," she said. "But yeah, some of it's different. McDonald's in Ukraine had shrimp, though, that was pretty cool."

Scott's eyes went wide. "No shit?" he said. He glanced quickly over at his mother, still chatting with Charlie. "I mean...no kidding."

"Yeah, no shit," Emily grinned.

"That's so cool," Scott said. "Lexy knows like eight million languages, but she's never gone anywhere like you have. Do you want to come sit with us?"

"Yeah, sure," she said. Scott grinned at her and jogged towards the chapel.

"Look at you, making friends," Hotch teased.

"Oh, shut up," Emily said. "Miller's brothers aren't so bad, I don't know what she's complaining about."

Students and their families were beginning to file into the chapel; most of their group had already disappeared inside. Hotch hesitated at the bottom of the steps. "What's with you?" Emily asked him. He didn't answer. "Hello? Earth to Hotchner."

He blinked. "Sorry, I didn't hear you," he said.

"Alex and James are waiting," she said, nodding towards the open doors. "What are you looking for?"

"I was hoping…" he started to say, but his voice trailed off. He set Spencer down on the ground. "Go with Alex and Emily, okay?"

"Can't I stay with you?" Spencer asked.

"I'll see you in a little bit, I just want to wait out here for a second," he said. "It's okay, don't worry."

"Who're you waiting for?" Emily asked.

Suddenly Hotch straightened up. "Sean!" he called. "Hey, Sean!"

A blond boy ran down the walkway towards them and threw himself at Hotch. "Aaron!" he shrieked. Hotch caught up to him and scooped him up in a tight hug.

Emily leaned towards Spencer. "Who the hell is that?" she whispered.

"His real brother," Spencer whispered back.

Emily tilted her head, frowning thoughtfully. Hotch was hugging his little brother as close as he could, but Sean was beginning to squirm in his grip. "Aaron, that's too tight, put me down," he whined.

"Sorry, sorry," Hotch said, setting him down and kneeling on the walkway to be at his eye level. He was smiling more brightly than Emily had ever seen before. "I've missed you, Seanie. How's school? How's baseball going?"

Sean shrugged. "I quit, I'm doing soccer now," he said. "And I got drums for my birthday!"

She probably shouldn't eavesdrop, but she couldn't help it. Alex and James walked down the steps towards them. "Wow, his brother looks nothing like him," James commented, keeping his voice low.

"Siblings don't have to look completely alike, you know," Alex said. Spencer leaned against her hip and she absently ran her fingers through his short hair. "Genetics can be funny like that. Right, Spencer?" He didn't answer, and she wrapped her arm around his shoulders.

"Sean, baby, please don't run ahead like that, I don't want you to fall."

Hotch stood up quickly and squared his shoulders. His face fell back into grim lines as if every bit of his sudden excitement had been suctioned out of him. Sean, however, seemed unbothered and ran back towards a couple walking up the path. "Sorry," he said cheerfully, grabbing the woman's hand.

"Just be careful, buddy, okay?" the man said, ruffling his hair.

Hotch's back had gone ramrod straight, as if just seeing the couple made him uncomfortable. Emily couldn't blame him. They seemed a little too polished, a little too perfect. The man's button up shirt looked like it had just been ironed even though they'd just gotten off a flight, and the woman was dressed in a floral Lily Pulitzer dress and heels, her blonde hair perfectly highlighted and curled.

Hotch cleared his throat as they approached him, Sean still swinging the woman's hand. "Hi," he said. "How was your flight?"

"Oh, it was fine," the woman said. She looked Hotch up and down. "My, you do look more and more like your father every time I see you."

Hotch flushed red, but didn't say anything in response. The man cleared his throat. "Aaron, are you going to introduce us to your friends?" he asked.

Hotch took a step back. "Uh...yes," he said stiffly. "This is Emily, Alex, James, and Spencer." He shifted his weight. "This is my Uncle Andrew and my Aunt Victoria, and my younger brother Sean."

Emily looked at the others out of the corner of her eyes. Alex smiled her sweetest, most grown up smile. "It's nice to meet you, Victoria," she said, keeping her arm around Spencer's shoulders as he half-hid himself behind her.

Victoria smiled at them, her teeth white and even against her pink lipstick. "Nice to meet you too, honey," she said, her southern accent syrup-sweet. "You can just call me Mrs. Eubanks." She beckoned to Sean. "Sean, honey, let's go inside."

"Can I have my iPad, Mom?" he asked.

Hotch visibly flinched.

"You can once we're sitting down, buddy," Andrew said.

Emily took a step back as Hotch's family walked past them into the chapel, leaving him behind. "Hotch, are you sitting with us?" James asked.

"No, I...I'm going to sit with them," Hotch said. Some of the color had drained from his face. "I'll see you guys later."

Emily watched them go. There was a strange dullness in the pit of her stomach, like she was bracing herself at the top of a roller coaster, and she wasn't sure why.


Alex already knew there were a few things she would miss about high school once she graduated. But she knew she would definitely not miss parent class observations. She'd lucked out in previous years- her parents had observed her in English literature and algebra and French, which was all reasonable, even though her father liked to argue that she could have learned those sorts of things back home in Kansas City. But now they were watching her Russian language class, and she was dreading what he was going to say about it.

You love this class, she told herself sternly. You do really well in this class. This is fine.

She tried not to look towards the back of the room at the line of parents sitting in metal folding chairs. The teacher was having them give oral presentations, and she needed to stay focused. She inhaled slowly, measuring her breathing.

It really was one of her favorite classes. The classroom was in an older part of the building, all dark wood and parquet floors and dim warm lighting, and it somehow made it seem more special, more important. It brought back memories of reading Anna Karenina for the first time when she was in middle school, sitting in the fluorescent lights of her seventh grade homeroom and picturing herself in snowy nineteenth century Moscow. If she could have told eleven year old Lexy Miller that someday she'd be speaking Russian in a room like this at a private boarding school, she'd never believe it.

The teacher made a note as the last student to speak took their seat. "Alexandra," she called.

Alex stood up quickly, smoothing her skirt down and tugging the hem of her blazer in place before picking up her notecards. The heels of her ankle boots clicked briskly on the floor, and for a moment she felt like her usual self. And then she saw her parents in the back of the room- her mother smiling, her dad frowning in concerned confusion- and she was six years old again, arguing that she didn't want to go outside and play in the backyard with her brothers, she wanted to stay inside and read.

"Alexandra, preuspevat," the teacher said.

She nearly dropped her note cards, but she quickly clasped her hands behind her back and started her presentation, keeping her eyes trained on the clock on the back wall so she wouldn't accidentally make eye contact with her parents. Russian was one of the hardest languages she'd worked on so far, and one of the hardest classes she'd taken so far at St. Thaddeus, but she loved it. She loved challenging languages, learning new grammar and new rules and new sounds, how some languages connected and shared and some clashed completely.

Her grammar still wasn't completely perfect and her vocabulary still needed some expanding, but all things considered her presentation went well, and it wasn't until she was back in her seat that she realized she'd forgotten to look at her notes. She set them down at the corner of her desk and clasped her hands tightly.

Since classes were shortened for the sake of observations, the bell didn't ring at the end of the period; instead the teacher addressed the parents briefly before dismissing everyone. Alex dropped her belongings back into her satchel and closed it up, sighing heavily.

Catherine patted her arm. "You did so well, honey," she said.

"You sure did," Damon said, clearing his throat. "I couldn't understand a lick of what was happening, but you sounded real confident up there."

Alex slid her bag's strap over her shoulder. "I did okay, I think," she said.

"I don't know how you manage all these languages," Damon said. "It sounded like you were talking backwards."

"It's pretty tough," Alex admitted as they walked out into the hallway. "But Emily speaks a little Russian. And Spencer's been having me teach him too. And ASL, so I have plenty of opportunities to practice. Emily speaks a couple of languages, actually."

"She seems like a nice girl," Catherine said.

"Here's what I don't understand, Lexy," Damon began. "When are you ever going to use Russian? Couldn't you have taken something a little more useful? Spanish, maybe?"

"I tested out of Spanish," Alex said. "And I took honors French my freshman year, they don't offer any more difficult classes for those two."

"But what are you going to do with all these languages?" Damon persisted. "Once you get out in the real world, you're not going to use them."

"Yes, I am," she said.

"But back home-"

"Damon," Catherine warned. "You promised you weren't going to start with this today."

He raised his hands in surrender. "I'm not starting anything!" he said. "I just know that now that she's looking at colleges, she's got to start thinking more practically-"

"I am being practical," Alex interrupted. "Just because I don't want to move home and-"

"All right, all right, enough," Catherine said. "Both of you. We're just going to enjoy this weekend, okay? No arguing about schools." She sighed heavily. "Where did the boys go?"

"I don't know, Emily took them somewhere," Alex said. "I'll be back. I need to go pick up Spencer from his class. I'll meet you at the dining hall in a little bit."

She walked a little too fast down the hall, gritting her teeth. Her dad meant well, she knew he did. But her dad still saw her as a little kid, his only daughter, something delicate and fragile that he needed to protect. But she wasn't delicate, she was thin invisible steel, and she didn't know how to make her father understand that she was her own person.

She made her way to Spencer's classroom and found him waiting anxiously for her in the hall. "Sorry that took me so long," she said. "How was class?"

"Frustrating," he said. "We've been talking about Galvani in biology class, but I don't understand why we're focusing so much on him. His contemporary Alessandro Volta disproved a lot of his theories about animal electricity."

"Galvani and his wife are credited with discovering bioelectricity," Alex pointed out as she took his hand.

"Yes, but we don't need to spend the whole first quarter talking about him when most of his hypotheses were known to be incorrect before the end of the eighteenth century," Spencer said. He squinted up at her. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she said. "What makes you say that?"

"You look stressed," he said. "And you're walking really fast."

"Sorry, darling," she said, slowing down so he could keep up. "I might be a little stressed. But it's fine." She paused. "Do you know what you want to study in college?"

Most fourth graders wouldn't have an answer to that, but Spencer wasn't a fourth grader. "I want my PhD in either chemistry or mathematics," he said immediately. "Maybe both. But I'll get my undergrad in something fun. Maybe psychology."

Alex laughed. "I like the way you think," she said.

"I might change my mind," he said. "I'll be thirteen when I graduate from high school, so I might decide on something else by the time I get to college."

She squeezed his hand. "Well, whatever you decide, I support you, okay?" she said. "You go learn all the things you want to learn." He smiled up at her, the corners of his eyes scrunching up, and she smiled back at him.


"...and that's when he got moved up to quarterback," Penelope said. She stopped to take a breath. "I try to go to his games as much as I can. Do you want to see the pictures? Or the videos? I take tons every time I go to a game."

"You really don't have to do that, baby girl," Derek said hastily.

Sarah laughed. At sixteen she and Derek were just about the same height, but most likely he'd end up taller than her, if their father's height was any indication; their younger sister Desiree was as tall as Penelope even though she was a year younger than her. "We'll see him play tonight for sure," she said. "But I'd never guess he'd end up quarterback. Maybe tight end at best."

"Aw, you don't know what you're talking about," Derek said.

"Have you told Penelope about the time you tried to play football with the big kids and you ran into a tree and knocked yourself out?" Sarah suggested helpfully.

"Sarah, no, don't tell her that!" Derek said, clapping a hand over her mouth. She licked his palm and he let go with a yelp of disgust. "Ugh, you weirdo."

"Aw, you've missed me," Sarah teased.

Desiree glanced at her phone. "Are we just waiting for Mom to stop talking or what?" she asked.

Derek looked over at Fran, deep in conversation with Penelope's grandparents. "No, I think we're waiting for more of the group to show up," he said.

"I never thought I'd say this, but you have too many friends," Desiree said. "We have to wait for all of them."

"At least for Spencer, you need to meet him," Derek said.

"I'm just glad you're not rooming with that grumpy kid anymore like last year," Sarah said.

"Oh, no, Hotch is my RA now," Derek said. "Still grumpy, though, that hasn't changed."

"He's always grumpy," Penelope supplied helpfully. "But there's Spencer, Alex has him."

Desiree frowned. "Derek, that is a child," she said. "Whose child is that?"

"My roommate," he explained. "Although Hotch and Alex have kind of adopted him? But also I've been hearing rumors that they're twins and Spencer is their little brother, but I don't know where the hell that started."

"That is a child," Sarah said blankly. "Is he like a Benjamin Button or something?"

"No, he's ten and really smart," Derek said. "Did...did I forget to tell you that he was ten?"

"Yeah, you did," Desiree said. "We would have remembered if you told us you were rooming with a kindergartener."

"He's not a kindergartener, he's just kindergartener-sized," Penelope said helpfully.

Derek waved them over. "Hey, pretty boy, come meet my family!" he called. "These are my sisters, Sarah and Desiree. This is Spencer. And that's Alex."

"She's our mom friend," Penelope explained.

"I'm not the mom friend," Alex said as she straightened Spencer's crooked shirt collar.

"Oh, you're so cute!" Sarah cooed. "Hi, honey! You're adorable, oh my god. You're so tiny."

Spencer half hid behind Alex, holding onto her skirt. "Hi," he said warily.

"Sarah, dude, stop scaring him," Derek said. "C'mere, come meet my mom." He grabbed Spencer's hand and dragged him over to his mother, interrupting her conversation. "Mom! This is my roommate Spencer."

Fran blinked in surprise. "Hi," she said. "It's nice to meet you, sweetheart." Derek could tell that she was a bit confused, but too polite to ask questions right out of the gate. "Is...are your parents here? I'd love to meet them."

"No," Spencer said. "They...can't come. It's okay, though." He scratched the back of his right leg with the top of his left shoe. "Derek, can we go to lunch now?"

"Yeah, we can go, I was waiting for you to get here," Derek said. Spencer zipped back over to Alex, his backpack bouncing on his shoulders.

Fran raised an eyebrow. "When you told me about your roommate, was there anything you forgot to tell me?" she said.

Derek shifted his weight. "Uh...yes, ma'am," he said sheepishly. "He's, uh. Ten."

"Mm-hm," Fran said. "Where's his mama?"

"He doesn't really talk about his parents," Derek said. "They live out in Nevada, I think, he's from Las Vegas."

Fran clicked her tongue sympathetically. "Poor little thing, so far away from home and his parents don't even visit," she said. "You'd better be keeping an eye on him, Derek Jonathan."

"Yes, ma'am," he said. "He-" He stopped. "We all try to keep an eye on him."

He'd tell her at some point about the goalpost. Now just wasn't the time.


Spencer leaned against Alex, making himself small in the crowd. All of the energy had drained out of him. The school was extra busy and extra loud with all the extra people, and he was tired of being introduced to so many strange grownups.

"You're awfully quiet today," Alex commented, smoothing his hair.

He drooped against her. "Where's Hotch?" he asked. "I haven't seen him since chapel."

"He's probably with his own family," Alex said. "Don't worry. I'm sure he's fine. Do you want to get in line for lunch?"

"No, I want to wait for Hotch," he said.

"We'll give him a few more minutes, but if he wants to spend time with his family, he can," she said. "You can stay with me and my family."

He didn't want to stay with Alex's family. Her mother was nice, but her father and brothers were so loud and so rowdy, and he could tell they were stressing her out. Especially since apparently Emily had skipped class to take Scott and Danny down to the creek, and it made her upset. He hated seeing Alex upset, especially when he didn't know how to fix it.

"What are you guys waiting for?" James asked, walking over to them with his hands in his pockets. "The line's pretty long, you should jump in while you can."

"I don't suppose you've seen Hotch anywhere, have you?" Alex said.

James shook his head. "Not in a while," he said.

Alex squeezed Spencer's shoulder. "How about you go with James and get lunch?" she said. "I need to go talk to Emily for a second. I'll be right back, I promise."

He didn't want to go with James. "Yeah, that's okay," he said aloud.

"It'll just take a second," she said, and she hurried away with a last little squeeze of his shoulder. James nudged him gently towards the line, and he didn't put up a fight, trailing alongside him. It was a much longer line than usual with all the moms and dads and siblings visiting, and he was relieved that James didn't try to make him hold a conversation.

James picked up a plastic tray and set it on the rail once they reached the front. "What do you want?" he asked.

"I'm not hungry," Spencer said, scratching at the skin around his thumbnail. He twisted around, leaning back against the rail and scanning the dining hall.

"Let's find something you like," James said. "I think there's-"

Spencer pushed himself up and tripped over his own shoes. "Hotch!" he called. He looked up at James. "Can I-"

"Yeah, yeah, go see Hotch," James said. "I'll pick out some things you might like."

Spencer ran off, dodging the crowds until he caught up. "Hotch!" he said, latching hold of his arm. "I didn't know where you were!"

"I was in class, kiddo," Hotch said. "Hey, I have somebody I want you to meet."

He didn't want to meet any more people, but Hotch pulled him over to the side of the room anyway. "Spencer, this is my little brother Sean. You two are just about the same age, Sean's in third grade right now."

They might've been close in age, but Sean was several inches taller than he was, more filled out. He was the polar opposite of his older brother, blond and blue eyed and cherub-cheeked. His clothes looked brand new, and he had an iPad in a neon green silicone case tucked under his arm. Sean laughed. "Do you really go to school here?" he asked. "I thought it was just big kids."

"I'm in the ninth grade," Spencer said. "I skipped a couple of grades."

"That's weird," Sean said. He looked Spencer up and down, wrinkling his nose. "Why do you call my brother Hotch? Everybody calls him Aaron."

"We call him Hotch," Spencer said stiffly.

If Hotch noticed the tension, he didn't let on. "Maybe you guys can go play later or something," he said.

Spencer tilted his head up to look at Hotch. "I can't play, I have geometry homework," he said. "Are you coming to sit with us for lunch? I'll save you a seat."

"No, I'm going to sit back here with Sean," Hotch said.

"What about dinner?" he pressed.

Hotch glanced back over his shoulder at the table where his aunt and uncle were sitting. "No, I'm going out to dinner in town," he said. "I'll be back really late. One of the other RAs will do room checks for me."

Panic spiked in his chest. "What if-" he started to say, but he couldn't force the words out. What if I have a bad dream? What if I can't sleep? What if I-

"Hey, don't look at me like that," Hotch said. "I just want to spend time with my brother now while I still can. You understand, right?"

"I understand," he whispered.

"I'll see you at breakfast tomorrow if I don't see you before tonight," Hotch said. "Okay?"

Spencer nodded, and when Hotch tried to hug him he sidestepped away and ran back to their usual table. He climbed into his usual chair, his heart thudding against his ribcage. There were too many strange adults at the table, and irrational frustrated anger surged in his chest. He didn't want this. He wanted things to go back to normal, with just the nine of them, no grownups, no weird schedule changes, no upset Alex, no distracted Hotch, and definitely no Sean Hotchner.

Alex dropped into the chair between him and Charlie Blake. "I am going to kill Emily," she mumbled under her breath.

"Oh, no," Charlie said. "Everything okay?"

"She skipped classes, and she dragged Danny and Scotty along," she said. "They could have gotten in so much trouble, which would have gotten me in trouble."

Spencer's vision blurred as Alex kept venting. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms, trying to will the threat of tears away with sheer stubbornness.

"Hey, what's going on, bug?" Charlie asked, and he jerked his head up as he realized she was talking to him. "You look like a little stormcloud."

"Nothing," he said, but a tear managed to escape and roll down his cheek. He scrubbed at it a little too harshly.

"That doesn't look like nothing," Charlie said gently.

He opened his mouth to argue with her. "Hotch isn't coming back tonight, he's going out with his family," he blurted out instead. He didn't know why that was what came out of his mouth, but it was better than the other things he was thinking.

"Don't worry about that," Alex reassured him, and when she reached for him he allowed her to pull him onto her lap. "I'll come check on you. And if you need anything at all you can text me in in the middle of the night and I'll come right over." He nodded and leaned his head on her shoulder, trying to swallow down the lump in his throat. "Do you want me to skip my house meeting and stay with you? I don't want you to be alone."

"Why would he be alone?" Charlie asked.

"There's no point in him going to the parents' house meeting if he doesn't have his parents with him," Alex said quietly.

Charlie frowned, but their conversation was interrupted as James set down the tray on the table. "Okay, I'm pretty sure I got a few things you like," he said. He paused. "Did I interrupt somebody's funeral? Y'all look so sad."

"Jamie, would you mind if I sent just your dad with you to the Kennedy meeting?" Charlie asked.

James blinked. "Yeah, that's fine," he said as he sat down at Alex's other side. "Why? What's going on?"

"I'm going to go to the Lincoln House meeting instead," Charlie said. "As long as you're okay with that, Spencer." He nodded, too surprised to say anything. "Good."

She changed the subject, asking Alex and James about their scholarship applications, and Spencer slid back to his own seat and picked up his fork. He still wasn't particularly hungry, but he was hungry enough to at least eat a little bit.

At the end of lunch everyone dispersed- the Kennedy kids to the chapel, the Roosevelt kids to the gym, and the Lincoln kids to the auditorium. Alex kissed him on the cheek before she left with her family, and Charlie hugged James before starting the walk across campus.

"So do you like going to school here?" she asked.

He nodded. "It's a lot better than my school back in Las Vegas," he said. "They tried to keep me in elementary."

"James says you're far too smart for that," she said, and he beamed up at her. "What's your favorite subject?"

"Science, I think," he said. "Or math. Or literature? I love reading. I have trouble with some of the classwork, though, but Alex says my brain hasn't caught up yet and I think she's right. My classmates are all five or six years older than me, so their cerebral cortices are further developed than mine. But that doesn't make it any less frustrating."

"I see," Charlie said. "What do your parents think about you skipping so many grades?"

"My mom wanted me to skip earlier in elementary school," he said without thinking, and he immediately clamped his mouth shut.

"What about your dad?" Charlie asked gently.

He shrugged. "I don't know," he mumbled.

Charlie stopped and tugged him off to the side, catching his hands in hers. "Listen," she said softly. "I know you don't know me very well. And I know that you rely a lot on Alex and Aaron to take care of you. But they're still just kids too, and there's things they can't do." She squeezed his hands. "If your parents aren't reliable, and you need a grown up to help you, I hope you feel like you can talk to me, or with Ned. Okay?"

He swallowed hard. "The forms," he blurted out.

"What forms?"

"My parents were supposed to sign a bunch of my school forms, and they...they can't," he rushed out. "I don't know what to do."

Charlie squeezed his hands again. "Okay," she said. "Okay, I'll talk to your head of house afterwards and we'll see what I can do." She stood up, but she kept his hand in hers, and he didn't pull away.

The auditorium was a large space already; it felt hollow and cavernous, only a third filled with Lincoln students and their families. He sat down next to Charlie, his feet dangling far above the floor. His uniform cardigan wasn't warm enough to ward off the chill of the overly air-conditioned house.

Mr. Gideon stood on the floor in front of the stage, flipping through stacks of looseleaf notes and frowning. He glanced first at the assembled audience, then at his watch, as if he was surprised to see everyone there already, and then picked up the microphone off the stand. "All right, everybody," he said, and Spencer winced at the sudden squeal of feedback. Gideon frowned at the mic and jammed it back in place. "I'm not going to use that, I'm sure you can already hear me."

He dropped the papers and slid his hands in the pockets of his jeans; despite the apparent formality of the occasion, he was wearing one of his many threadbare sweaters. "First of all, if this is your first time attending one of these things, I want you to know that I think this whole 'troubled kids in Lincoln House' thing is crap," he said. "I've been head of house here for five years, and let me just tell you, there are bad kids everywhere, and good kids everywhere. Just because your son and daughter ended up here doesn't mean they're any less than the other kids on campus."

Spencer wriggled in his seat, craning his neck to get a look around. He could see JJ and her parents towards the front, Penelope and her grandparents in the row behind them. Derek sat with his mother and his two sisters across the aisle.

At first he didn't see Hotch, but he caught a glimpse of him towards the back of the group. He was sitting with his brother on one side and his uncle on the other. There was something strange and stiff about Hotch's expression, his eyes focused forward and serious as he chewed nervously on his lower lip. He seemed uncomfortable, and Spencer wasn't sure why.

Hotch's aunt sat next to Sean, whispering to him quietly. The aunt looked more like Sean than Hotch did, although her blonde hair was heightened by professional highlights and her blue eyes were accented by tasteful makeup. Maybe she was the one making Hoch feel so uncomfortable. She reminded Spencer of an expensive doll- pretty to look at, but hard plastic with a frozen expression. Despite himself he gave a little involuntary shiver and twisted back around to face forward.

At the end of the meeting, Charlie took Spencer by the hand. "Let's go talk to him," she said. "You ready?" He nodded, anxiety beginning to bubble in his throat like nausea.

Gideon was already packing up his papers as Charlie walked up to him, clearly ready for whatever he might throw at her. "Mr. Gideon?" she said brightly. "Hi. Could I speak to you for a moment?"

He scowled at her. "Sure," he said. He glanced down at Spencer. "Oh. Are you Spencer's mother?"

Spencer held his breath. Charlie paused, as if weighing her answer. "Um...guardian, actually," she said. "I heard he has some forms that need to be signed?"

Gideon scrutinized her for a moment, his eyes sharp and piercing as he gazed at her, as if it was his turn to weigh his answer. He looked down at Spencer, then back to Charlie. "Sure," he said. "Forms are in my office. Stop by Lincoln House this weekend and we'll get it taken care of."

He turned on his heel and stalked out. "Well," Charlie said, startled. "You know, James was in his intro to psychology class last year, and he said that Mr. Gideon was brilliant but somehow clueless at the same time. I didn't know what he meant then, but I think I get it now."

Spencer laughed at that, the bubble of anxiety popping and falling away. "Thank you for helping me, Mrs. Blake," he said.

"You can just call me Charlie, sweetheart," she said. "I'm glad I can help."

He smiled, scanning the auditorium for Hotch, because he wanted to tell him, wanted him to know that at least this one thing was going to be okay, but he was already gone, and his smile faded quickly.


Dave paced back and forth, tapping his fingertips against his upper arms. "Sit down, Rossi, you're making me nervous," Emily said.

"Easy for you to say," he shot back. "Your parents aren't in a conference with literally the scariest teacher you've ever had."

Emily tilted her head back. "Ah, yeah, that's definitely a perk of my mom not coming over from Italy," she said. "Jesus, now I'm picturing the Ambassador in a parent-teacher conference with my science teacher. Yeah, I'm glad she's not here right now."

Dave kept pacing. "I wish you weren't here right now," he grumbled. "You're stressing me out, Prentiss. Do you have to be here?"

Emily threw up her hands. "Where am I supposed to go?" she said. "Everyone else's parents' are at their conferences. I think Spencer got adopted by James's parents. And Alex is pissed off because I've been hanging out with her brothers all day. I don't know what people expect of me."

"Just...stop stressing me out," Dave said. "Go stress somebody else out."

She rolled her eyes at him and he went back to pacing. His parents always insisted on talking to all of his teachers, every semester. Usually he didn't mind this much, but it had taken all summer to convince them to let him take creative writing instead of statistics. He'd finally played the "it's my senior year, let me have an easy class" card and they'd relented. What were they going to say when they found out he was getting a low B in his supposedly "easy" class?

His parents walked into the room and he dropped his arms to his sides. "Hi, how'd it go?" he asked, his voice squeaking a little bit. Emily snickered and he ignored her.

"David, you didn't tell us you had a C in this class," Isabella said, shaking her head. "A C? In your easy class?"

His jaw dropped. "I thought I had a low B!" he protested.

"No, definitely a C," Anthony said. "I told you, son, you should have taken statistics instead."

"Your brother took statistics his senior year, he loved it," Isabella said.

"Yeah, well, I'm not Michael," Dave said.

"But a C," Isabella said. "A C, really?"

Dave looked desperately over at Emily; she was scrolling through her phone and staring at the screen as if it was the most fascinating thing she had ever seen. "It's not that bad," he said. "We're barely through the first quarter. I have plenty of time to turn it around."

"I don't know, mio caro," Isabella said. "Maybe this wasn't a very good idea. Ms. Strauss doesn't seem to think this sort of thing is right for you. You can still transfer to another class. If you want to do something creative, maybe you can take ceramics instead."

"I'm not taking ceramics," he scoffed. "I like writing. I'm good at writing."

"Good writers don't get Cs in their creative writing classes," Anthony said. He clapped his hand on Dave's shoulder. "David, I know you wanted to take this class, but if it's not a good fit, it's not a good fit. Besides, this sort of thing won't matter if you're applying for law school, but a failing grade sure will."

"I'm not failing!" he protested. "It's just a C! That's not failing!"

"It is around here," Anthony said. "It is if you're trying to go into an Ivy League for pre-law."

Dave bit back the sharp retort he wanted to say. He didn't want an Ivy League. He didn't want pre-law. He didn't want to become a lawyer and help them broker deals with the family real estate company.

"What if I want to take a gap year?" he said instead.

Isabella's hand flew to her throat in surprise. "A gap year?" she repeated. "Absolutely not, carino. You take a gap year, you'll fall so far behind!"

Dave sighed. "Okay, fine, forget I said it," he said.

"Your peers will get past you like that!" she said, snapping her fingers for emphasis.

"Gap years are for lazy people," Anthony added.

"I'm not lazy!"

Isabella shook her head. "By the time you actually apply to law school, everyone in your class will be younger than you!" she said. "You'll be outpaced!"

"Okay, Mom, it's fine, it's whatever," Dave said. "You don't have to get worked up over it."

"I'm not worked up!"

"Half your words are coming out in Italian."

"Maybe I am worked up!" she exclaimed. She cupped his face in her hands. "David, my baby, we have worked so hard to give you so many good things, so you could have a better, easier life than ours, and go off to make something great for yourself. Your brother and your sisters have worked so hard and they've done so well, we want the same thing for you."

"Mammina, it's a C in a creative writing class," he said, exasperated. "I'm not dropping out of high school to become an Instagram influencer or anything."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Anthony asked.

"Nothing," Dave said. "Mom, can you let go of my face?" He sighed heavily. "I promise, I'll get my grade in this class up to an A by the end of the semester or I'll switch classes."

Isabella beamed at him. "That's my good boy," she crooned, patting his cheeks. "My handsome brilliant son. Oh, I can't wait for you to become a lawyer. You'll come work with me and your father, and you'll marry a lovely girl and give me lots and lots of grandchildren."

"Can we slow down a little, please?" Dave said. "I'm seventeen. And you have four grandchildren already." He paused. "Or five. There's five now, right?"

"You have a girlfriend though, right?" Anthony said. "That Carolyn girl. I liked her. Whatever happened to her?"

"You didn't break her heart, did you, David Stephen?" Isabella said, letting go of his face and frowning at him.

"No, she just moved away!" Dave said. "The breakup was mutual!"

Anthony checked his watch. "Isabella, we have another conference coming up," he said. "David, we'll see you afterwards, all right?"

"Yeah, all right," he said.

As soon as they left the room Emily let out a long low whistle. "Wow, your parents are a lot," she said.

"They mean well," Dave said, sliding down against the wall to sit on the floor. "But...you're not wrong."


Hotch jogged down the front steps from Lincoln House towards the courtyard. He had his keys, he had his phone. He'd made arrangements for someone else to do room checks. He'd changed his shirt at least three times, trying to pick something that looked dressy enough to please his aunt.

It was a long walk from Lincoln House all the way to the parking lot, and he waited a good fifteen minutes on the curb waiting for them to come pick him up. Better to be early than later, at least, but the early evening was still warm and the sun had yet to set, making sweat cluster at the nape of his neck.

The rental car pulled up to the curb and parked. "Hi," he said as he climbed into the backseat, the AC rushing at him in a cool wave. "Thanks for coming to get me."

"No worries," Andrew said as he clicked his seatbelt into place. "We're looking forward to having dinner off campus, hope you are too. I'm sure it'll be nice to eat something that didn't come from your school cafeteria."

"Yeah, it will, thank you," Hotch said, settling back. He wasn't looking forward to a car ride in the backseat, but he could keep himself together for a little while.

"What's your curfew?" Victoria asked from her spot in the front seat.

"I'm allowed out until eleven, unless someone signs me in," he said.

She flipped the mirror down to check her lipstick. "We'll have you back by then," she assured him.

He tugged on the seatbelt, pulling it briefly away from his chest. "Did you have fun today, Sean?" he asked.

"Yeah, I guess," Sean said. "Sometimes it was kind of boring, though."

"That happens," Hotch grinned. He nudged his little brother lightly. "So what's been going on while I've been gone? What's third grade like?"

Sean launched into a story immediately, and he listened as attentively as he could. He never missed anything or anyone when he was away at school except for his little brother. Seeing him was the best reminder of his end goal, the best motivation- that he would graduate from college as fast as he could, get his law degree and pass the bar, and soon as humanly possible he would apply to get custody of his brother. Sean was all he had left. He needed to keep him. He'd promised he would look out for him.

His uncle drove through the winding roads away from the school and towards Auden's Ridge. He wanted to ask where they were going, but he'd learned early on to measure out his questions carefully. Faint carsick nausea rose in the back of his throat, but he blocked it out and forced himself to focus on listening to Sean and asking him questions.

The car pulled into the parking lot of a chain restaurant. Hotch plucked lightly at the seatbelt crossing his chest; it suddenly felt too tight. "This is where we're eating?" he asked.

"Mm-hm, this is where Sean wanted to go," Victoria said.

This was fine. Everything was fine. He'd be fine.

He hoisted Sean out of the backseat and down to the pavement, then held out his hand. Sean took hold, gripping tight as they walked through the parking lot and into the lobby of the restaurant. Andrew went up to talk to the hostess, and Sean pulled free of Hotch's grip to run for the arcade games tucked to the side. "Mommy, can I play?" he begged.

"Not now, baby, maybe later," Victoria said. "Come here, sweetheart, stay close, please."

Hotch's heart squeezed in his chest. Sean had started calling their Aunt Victoria that at some point during the summer, and he only found out when he came back to visit between summer camp ending and the school year beginning. It had been a new habit then, but clearly their aunt had done nothing to stop it. Maybe she'd even encouraged it.

He took Sean's hand again as the hostess walked them to their table and set down menus. Hotch sat down and his stomach sank as he looked at the glossy photos.

He'd known his whole life that some foods just...didn't agree with him. No one had ever really figured out why. HIs childhood pediatrician said he'd outgrow it. His dad had said he was being a brat, his mother thought he was a picky eater. At his last physical- required every year before he was sent back to live in boarding school dorms- he'd asked about it and the doctor suggested it was just stress. At this point, all he knew for sure was to just avoid whatever seemed to mess with him the most.

And now he was at an Italian restaurant, surrounded by all sorts of foods that he knew were going to make him feel awful, and he didn't have a choice in the matter. His aunt and uncle would give him a hard time if he tried to make substitutions, and an ever harder time if he refused their generosity and refused to order anything at all. By the time the waitress came around he'd decided on something that would upset him the least. He just needed to eat enough to get through the meal without them grilling him about why he wasn't eating, and then he could take the leftovers home, maybe give them to Derek or something.

He cleared his throat. "So...I have all As so far this quarter," he offered.

"Yeah, your teachers had some really nice things to say," Andrew said. "You've made a lot of positive improvements."

He'd half expected something more in response, but at the same time he wasn't surprised. His aunt and uncle still saw him as the thirteen-year-old kid they picked up three years ago, scared and angry and defensive, always willing to jump into a fight. Maybe someday they'd acknowledge that he'd grown up, that he was turning things around.

The waitress brought them waters and a handful of crayons for Sean. "I just checked, your entrees will be out in just a little bit," she said as she set down a basket of breadsticks in the middle of the table. "Can I get y'all anything else?"

"A glass of chardonnay, please," Victoria said.

Hotch picked up a green crayon and slid it closer to Sean before it could roll off the edge of the table. "What're you going to draw?" he asked.

Sean shrugged. "I don't know," he said. "Mom, can I have my iPad now?"

"Not now, sweetie, after dinner," she said, reaching over to pat his hand. "Do you want some breadsticks?"

He brightened. "Yeah!" he said, and Victoria placed two on his plate. She didn't offer any to Hotch, and he was grateful. One less thing to arouse suspicion.

"So my psychology teacher thinks I'm doing really well," he said. "He thinks I have a lot of potential."

"That's lovely, Aaron," Victoria said as the waitress set down her glass of wine.

"I might major in it," he said. "Before I go to law school. I guess it'll depend on my scores after I take the SAT."

"Mm-hm," Victoria said, taking a sip of her wine. "Sean, baby, watch your elbow, you're about to knock your water over. Andrew, can you-"

Hotch moved it before his uncle could reach; Sean didn't look up, still busily coloring on his thin paper kid's menu. "What are you drawing?" he asked. "Is that one of those Minecraft things?"

Sean made a face. "No one likes Minecraft anymore," he scoffed.

"Oh," Hotch said. "Well, I don't see a lot of kids your age, so I don't know what's cool with elementary schoolers."

He tried to make it a joke, but nobody laughed. "Yes, you do," Sean said. "You've got that weird kid."

"Spencer's not weird," Hotch said. "He's smart. And I'm responsible for him, he's on my floor."

He glanced at his aunt and uncle out of the corner of his eye, but they didn't seem fazed. "Besides, it's not nice to call somebody weird," he said. "You shouldn't say it."

"Aaron, don't discipline him, you're not his parent," Andrew warned.

He bit back his sharp reply as the waitress stopped at their table with her tray full of plates. She passed them out in turn, and his stomach turned as she set his plate in front of him. This was not what he ordered. Not even in the slightest. The plate in front of him was piled high with pasta glossy with a thick reddish creamy sauce and topped with some kind of fried chicken. It looked good. But he just knew deep down that he would regret it if he ate it.

At the same time, he knew he'd be scolded if he tried to swap it for what he'd really ordered, or if he didn't eat all. He'd been through it all before- the lectures about being ungrateful, being scolded for wasting perfectly good food, getting told that he could either eat it or go to bed hungry. So he cut off a small piece of the chicken and took a bite.

It was good. It was so, so good.

He was always so regulated, eating the safe foods even if he was sick of having them every day, filling himself up on things that wouldn't make him nauseous or break him out in hives. Just this once he could let himself eat something heavy and delicious. And besides, they were probably right, it probably was just stress, or all in his head. He took another bite, clumping pasta around his fork, and nearly sighed audibly.

"Seanie, do you need some help with your spaghetti?" Victoria asked. She laughed lightly. "I know, sweetie, it's tough. Andrew, can you help him out?"

"I can do it," Hotch said, setting his utensils down, but his uncle got there first, teasing Sean playfully and making him laugh. He picked up his fork again. Half. If he ate half, he could avoid their lectures, and then he could take the rest home, but in the meantime he would enjoy himself while he still could. Besides, his father was probably right. It probably was just all in his head.

They had almost made it through dinner when Andrew cleared his throat. "Aaron," he said. "There's something we'd like to talk to you about."

The last time he heard his uncle sound so serious was when they sat him down to tell him they were sending him away to boarding school. He lowered his fork, gripping it a little too tightly. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing's wrong," Victoria said. "We just-" She looked at Andrew, smiling tremulously. "We have something we want to tell you."

Hotch sat up a little straighter, the hair on the back of his neck prickling. "We've had custody of you and Sean for three years," Andrew began.

"We'd like to make things a little more permanent," Victoria said. "We've decided...to adopt Sean."

His fork slipped from his fingers. "You can't," he said blankly.

"We've already filed the paperwork," Andrew said. "It should be done by the end of the year. Maybe sooner."

Hotch stared at his plate. The food no longer looked appetizing; grease clustered on the surface of the fried chicken and the sauce-coated noodles seemed thin and slimy. "You can't adopt us," he repeated. "I...I was…"

They exchanged a look between them. "I don't know if you understand," Victoria said. "We're adopting Sean."

A lump rose in his throat. "Sean," he repeated. A lump rose in his throat. He looked over at his little brother; Sean was still poking at his dinner, seemingly unbothered by the conversation. "Just Sean."

"You understand, right?" Andrew said, smiling at him. "You're almost seventeen. Sean's only eight. We're really the only parents he knows."

"I promised my sister that if anything happened to her, we would take care of both of you boys," Victoria said. "And we did. You're always welcome to come visit when school isn't in session, and you'll receive your full inheritance when you turn eighteen."

"It's more than enough to get you through college and get you started on your own," Andrew said.

"So, what, he's going to be Sean Eubanks now and I'm just some relative who visits for Christmas?" Hotch said bitterly.

"That is uncalled for," Victoria shot back.

"You'll always be Sean's biological brother," Andrew said. "But you have to understand, we're doing what's best for him. Don't you think he deserves to grow up with loving parents?"

"What about me?" Hotch retorted. "Don't I deserve that too?"

Victoria stood up a little too quickly, nearly knocking her wine glass over. "That's enough!" she said, her voice wobbling. "I will not have you causing a scene." She exhaled, quick and wet, as if she was on the verge of tears. "God, I knew you'd throw a tantrum about this."

"I'm not throwing a tantrum," he said in a low voice.

"Victoria, sit down," Andrew soothed.

She threw her napkin down and shook her head. "I...I need a moment," she said. "I'll meet you in the car. I'm not hungry."

She hurried away and Andrew sighed. "Aaron, you've got to be a little more mature about this," he said. "We are truly trying to keep Sean's best interests at heart. And yours. You've always been so...independent. We'll still be your legal guardians, nothing will change that. But we want to be Sean's parents."

"Sean has parents," Hotch shot back.

"If it had been up to us, we would have adopted Sean years ago," Andrew snapped. "Your aunt has always wanted to have children, and when your mother died she tried desperately to get custody of him, but your father-" He stopped midsentence. "We're doing what's best for Sean. You should try doing that yourself for once, instead of lashing out when things don't go the way you want them to."

Sean dropped his crayons on the table. "Daddy, now can I go play in the arcade?" he interrupted.

"Sure," Andrew said, digging in his wallet and pulling out a handful of dollar bills and loose coins. "Why not. You go play while I get boxes for the leftovers and pay." He looked Hotch right in the eye. "Aaron, are you able to keep an eye on him?"

"Sure," Hotch said through his teeth as he took the money. He pushed his chair back with a loud scrape. "Come on, Sean."

He walked with his little brother through the restaurant back to the arcade games, his stomach beginning to churn. The consoles chimed with cheerful, clashing music; Sean slapped his palms on a couple of grease slick buttons. "I wanna play this one," he announced.

Hotch dropped the right amount of money into the slot and Sean cheered as the game started. He stood next to him, arms limp at his sides, nausea pulsing at the pit of his stomach as his thoughts tumbled. There was nothing he could do. Nothing at all. Even if he could graduate from high school today and get his law degree tomorrow, there was no way he could convince anyone that he should get custody of his little brother.

Sean rattled the joystick. "I lost," he whined, kicking at the console. "Aaron, can you put in more money?"

"Sean," he said, his mouth dry. "Sean, you don't have to do this."

Sean screwed up his face. "But I want to play," he objected.

"No, I mean...the adoption," Hotch said. "You don't have to get adopted if you don't want to."

He shrugged. "Mom and Dad said that they're already my parents, and they're just getting a piece of paper that says it so everybody knows it too," he said.

Hotch knelt down and took his arms. "Sean, you remember Mama, right?" he said quietly. "Our mother, our real mother."

Sean blinked. "No," he said.

Inadvertently he squeezed his arms a little harder. "Her name was Eliza, remember?" he said. "She had blonde hair and blue eyes just like yours. You know the picture in the foyer, the big one in the gold frame? That's Mama."

He used to stare at that portrait whenever his mother's memory got a little too fuzzy. It was one of her debutant pictures, a photo of a beautiful girl in a white dress smiling brightly. There were only a few pictures of his mother allowed in his aunt's house, and nothing past her eighteenth birthday, because three months after that Eliza Mackenzie met Edward Hotchner, and nothing was ever the same again.

Sean's chin wobbled. "I don't remember," he said. He squirmed a little bit. "I was a baby when she went to heaven. Leggo, Aaron."

Hotch gave him a little shake. "I'll take care of you," he said. "You can stay with me. I'm your brother, I'm your big brother, I'm supposed to protect you. And I will."

"But I want to stay with them!" Sean protested. "I don't want to live with you! Let go, Aaron!"

"We have to stay together!" Hotch said. "I promised her, I promised her I would take care of you. Listen to me, Sean, I-"

"No!" Sean yelped. "I don't want to! I want to stay with Mommy and Daddy. And besides, Mommy says you're just like our old dad and you're going to end up just like him someday! She says you're bad like him!"

Hotch stumbled back as if he'd been struck, his grip falling loose, and Sean broke away from him. "I wanna stay with them," he said. "You're just mad because they only want me and they don't want to keep you too."

Hotch stared at him, as if he didn't recognize him anymore. "Sean, finish your game and let's go," Andrew called from the lobby.

"I'm coming," Sean called back, his eyes still locked on Hotch's.

He backed away before turning on his heel and running out of the arcade, and Hotch sank down on the floor, his balance wavering. He sat there for a moment, the cheerful video game music blurring in his ears and his stomach threatening to turn inside out, and after a while he got up silently, his eyes dry, his mouth set in a grim line, and he walked to the car without a word.


Author's Notes:

JESUS H. CHRIST ON A BICYCLE.

Everyone on tumblr was apparently hoping for Hotch angst. HERE'S THE HOTCH ANGST YOU ORDERED.

lord. there's so much happening here. so much to unpack. so many sad babies.

if you liked this, please leave a review if you can! this chapter is TWELVE THOUSAND WORDS LONG and I am exhausted. Encouragement is super appreciated. Thank you so much for reading!