Related episode: 5.10 The Slave of Duty

Elegy-a poem of serious reflection, typically a lament for the dead

That morning, I gave my morning yoga routine up as a lost cause and got into the shower quickly. It was early but sleep had also been a lost cause for me, despite the fact that Hotch had insisted that I return to my own apartment last night to sleep in my own bed.

The days that followed Haley's murder and Foyet's death, I hadn't left Hotch's apartment that much. Michael had brought me a bag of clothing and toiletries and Natasha had simply appeared one morning with bags of groceries, saving me that trip as well. Other than that, I was with Hotch and Jack at home, or at Quantico while the Bureau higher-ups conducted their investigation or watching Jack while Hotch and Jessica made the funeral arrangements.

Out of the shower, my eyes focused on the scars on my arm, chest, and torso. They were still dark against my pale skin and only slightly raised. The man who had caused them was now dead, just as I had promised him the night that he had given them to me. I thought about that night a lot. My certainty that I was going to die, but how I promised Foyet that Hotch would kill him. And Hotch had proven me right.

But I also thought a lot about my mother's funeral and how familiar the day already felt to me. The sleepless night before, the early morning where I couldn't focus but also couldn't relax. But I had something different this time: someone else to focus on.

I dressed in a black turtleneck and charcoal gray pleated skirt with black tights and boots. I pulled my short curly hair back with a black headband and applied some make up. I was feeding Hannah when I heard a knock on my door.

I checked the peep-hole first before opening the door, keeping my safe practices even though Foyet was dead. I opened the door to find Michael, fighting back a yawn and dressed in rumpled jeans and a tee shirt.

"Figured you'd be up early," he said, coming into my apartment, brushing his hand along my arm on the way.

"I was going to head to Hotch's to help him with Jack," I explained. "Otherwise I'd make breakfast."

"Want me to come?"

I thought about it for a moment. Hotch was probably the first adult figure that Michael had respected in his life. I know that Michael felt Haley's loss and Hotch's pain almost as much as I did and he wanted to help in any way he thought he could.

But I also knew Hotch better than anyone else except for the team. And I knew that while he was easily accepting my help and Jessica's, he wouldn't want anyone else to see how much help he needed. Around me, Hotch didn't have to hide behind his stoic mask. But if Michael came with me to Hotch's apartment, the mask would be on.

"We'll see you at the viewing, okay?" I suggested.

God bless him, Michael simply nodded, squeezed my shoulder and let me go.

When I arrived at the apartment, I knocked on the door but then used my key to walk in.

"Hotch, Jack?"

"Chi-chi!"

Jack came running over to me, still dressed in his pajamas.

"Hey, Jack-Jack," I said, catching him in my arms and pulling him up to hold closely to my chest. "What's for breakfast?"

"Cheerios," the boy told me solemnly.

"Cheerios?" I asked in mock surprise. "Well, I don't know about you, but I think we can do better than Cheerios. How about banana waffles?"

Jack's eyes lit up and he nodded vigorously.

I put Jack down on the floor, giving him a pat on the butt to get him running for the kitchen. On my way, I poked my head into Hotch's bedroom—also still in pajamas—laying out clothes on his bed.

"Breakfast in fifteen mintues," I announced.

He looked up, his face still bearing signs of the beating he had taken during his fight with Foyet. Without Jack to see him, he still looked haunted and weighed down. I had been by his side for almost a week straight, and I still hadn't seen him really take the time to mourn except for that first night. Maybe he felt like he had to put on a front with me along with everyone else.

"Thank you, I'll be out in a moment."

I turned to head back to the kitchen when Hotch spoke again. "You look nice today."

"Thank you," I said quietly. "Now hurry up before your son eats all the waffles."

I got half a smirk, so I claimed victory.

When I had first moved in with Hotch, I had been surprised to discover that he had a Belgium waffle maker. Granted, he hardly ever used it, but as soon as I found it and learned that he loved waffles, I made it a point to make them for him when I could. Thanks to Natasha's grocery run, I whipped up a batch of batter and started cooking.

By the time Hotch came out, I had three plates set up with waffles loaded with banana slices and syrup and glasses of milk. Actually, I had taken one waffle and split it for Jack and me to share. I had also started a pot of coffee and had poured two mugs for Hotch and myself. Despite my portions, Jack was the only one who really cleaned most of his plate. I only managed half of mine and Hotch barely touched his. Finally, I shooed them off to get dressed and cleaned up the kitchen.

Hotch and Jack came out in matching black suits, white shirts, and black ties. Jack was now very quiet and wouldn't walk too far away from his father. I smiled gently and offered my hand to him, feeling pleased when he took it and held on as we followed Hotch out to his car.

Jessica was already at the funeral home when we arrived. There would be an hour of viewing for just the family, then another hour for the public before the grave-side service, followed by a reception. I felt out of place being there with the family when even the team wouldn't show up until later.

But Hotch had told me he wanted me there, so I was there.

"Rachel, thank you so much for being here," Jessica said to me in greeting, not looking surprised to see me.

I was surprised that she remembered me really because I had only met her once before and didn't think I would be memorable.

"I'm happy to help in any way I can, please let me know if I can do anything," I offered sincerely.

Jessica nodded and then reached out to hug me. I hugged her back, knowing just how hard this day was going to be on her.

"Really, anything," I said again.

Jessica thanked me again. From there, I was graudually introduced to other members of the Brooks family throughout the morning as I kept my eye on both Hotch, Jack, and Jessica, bringing them food and drinks when I thought they needed something.

I was relieved when the team started to arrive. I also saw Michael, Natasha and Adam, and Colin. Megan Reeves came as well but had to return to campus before the funeral.

Eventually, it was time for the service. Morgan, Rossi, JJ's husband, Will, Garcia's boyfriend, Kevin, Agent Anderson, and Adam stood as pallbearers with Reid standing at Morgan's shoulder since he was still walking with a cane.

I fell into line behind Hotch, Jessica, and Jack, with Emily by my side. Once we were at the grave site, Reid stood on my other side, and Michael behind me. I was hanging onto my composure by a thread, trying focus on the present instead of remembering the past.

I had played for my mother because I wouldn't have been able to find the words, but Hotch's eulogy for Haley was stunning and heartbreaking. Blindly, I reached for Reid's hand, found it, and held on. He pulled me closer and wrapped a long arm around my shoulders. I wondered if he was thinking of my mother, too, selfish as the thought was. I had to remind myself that today was about Haley.

I was one of the last to approach her coffin, a single white rose in my hands. I laid it down and rested my hand on the smooth wood.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I'll never know if I could have changed things, but I promise that I'll take care of both of them."

It was the only thing I could do.

I kept up my role of personal assistant for the first half of the reception, making sure that everyone had food and drinks. Displacement was one of my favorite coping mechanisms. Eventually, Hotch caught me and put a stop to it.

"Go get something yourself," he admonished me. "You've taken care of me and Jessica has Jack. Go."

I didn't want him to worry about me today of all days, so I took a cucumber sandwich and a Coke and found a seat next to Emily.

"What do we do?" she asked rhetorically.

The entire team plus Will and Kevin were all seated together. Based on what I saw on their expressions and in their responses, they felt as useless as I did. And like me, they all wondered if Hotch was going to return to the BAU.

Everyone plays the "what if?" game. One of mine was to wonder if I might have kept both my parents if Dad had retired after the Boston bombings or just remained as an instructor at Quantico. What if he had stayed after Mom died? What if Mom had never gotten her job at the clinic in DC in the first place?

But what-ifs don't get you anywhere.

It shouldn't have surprised anyone when Morgan and JJ got the call that the team had to go out on a case. Like Morgan summed up, "Today of all days."

I stood up with them, hugging Reid before they all left.

"Be safe," I said quietly.

Reid squeezed me gently before letting go.

"I'll go get Rossi," Morgan said.

Rossi had taken Hotch outside for a break. "I'll go with," I offered.

It struck me that most of the day had passed and it had grown dark outside. Morgan and I found Hotch and Rossi standing by the railing of the balcony, glasses in hand partially filled with bourbon, I recognized.

Morgan broke the news that the team was called out on a case.

"Hold down the fort, you hear?" Morgan ordered me with a squeeze to my shoulder, with a meaningful look at Hotch so I knew exactly what he meant.

"Of course," I promised.

Rossi also nodded to me on his way past, handing me his glass as he did, leaving Hotch and me alone outside. I contemplated the glass of Coke in one hand and the glass of bourbon in the other. It had been one long, effing day so I tried for the bourbon.

Hotch's hand caught mine before I could touch the glass to my lips. His expression was stern, but I shrugged. Still stoic, Hotch's hand on my wrist guided me to pour the bourbon into what was left of my Coke. He let go, and with a quirked smile, saluted me with his own glass in permission.

I hadn't gotten out much in high school, so I hadn't done a lot of the experimenting with drugs and alcohol (actually very little on the alcohol and nothing on the drugs) and for that reason took a cautious sip rather than gulp it.

The Coke softened the blow, but I felt warmth spread through me.

"Do you go back to classes tomorrow?" Hotch asked me.

I nodded. Megan had already informed my professors that I was out for the week due to a death in the family. Megan hadn't specified beyond that, but I knew I should probably prepare some kind of explanation for when I returned to campus. Of course, for several of my classmates, the last time they saw me, I was being escorted off campus in federal custody. I would be notorious once again, it seemed. But that was something to worry about tomorrow.

"Then you should go home and get some rest," Hotch told me. "I know you didn't get much sleep last night."

"I hate profilers," I muttered.

"I know that today couldn't have been easy for you," Hotch went on. "And I want you to know how much I appreciate—"

"Hotch," I interrupted. "You don't have to thank me for anything. I want to help, I want to be there." I paused for a moment. "We're family, right?"

I hadn't thought I could surprise him at this point in our lives, but Hotch's mouth opened in shock but no sound came out. Finally, he simply nodded and held out an arm in invitation. I ducked under it and lay my head against his shoulder, wrapping my arms around his body and feeling his arms wrap around me.

Throughout the entire day, I had stumbled over how to introduce myself to Haley's relatives. I wasn't Hotch's daughter, I had technically and legally been his ward which just sounded wrong in modern culture. I finally just settled on saying I was family because it was true and uncomplicated. If everyone assumed I was his niece or a cousin, I didn't care.

But I tried not to think too hard about the fact that "daughter" with or without "adopted" had been on the tip of my tongue all day.

"Seriously, go home."

"I'll see you for dinner tomorrow."

I said good-bye to Jessica and Jack inside and then called Adam for a ride. I didn't think too much about him parking and walking me up to my apartment. Then I smelled food coming from behind my closed door and I figured it out.

"Please tell me your girlfriend did not break into my apartment to make dinner," I complained. I loved Natasha, I did, but I was exhausted and just wanted to crawl under the covers of my bed.

"First, we've never used labels," Adam told me. "Second, she didn't break in, Michael unlocked the door for her. But yes, she did make you dinner."

I was tired enough that it took me time to dissect everything he had said. And Adam and Natasha's relationship was always hard to decipher. Any time I thought they were dating, I'd hear about Natasha going clubbing with another guy and sleeping with him. When I thought they were broken up, Adam would show up to the café to take Natasha out to dinner.

Far less earth shattering was the fact that Michael had joined Natasha's conspiracy for the night. In the end, I just shook my head and walked inside with Adam right behind me.

My nose was hit with the smells of soy sauce, vegetables, tea, and fruit and cinnamon. I heard Natasha in the kitchen and the trailer to The Princess Bride on my television. Michael was already seated on my couch, still wearing the dress shirt he had been wearing earlier at the funeral but unbuttoned to reveal his undershirt and paired with holey jeans and barefoot. Adam shed his jacket and tie, untucked his shirt and slipped out of his shoes and joined him on the couch.

I stopped in the kitchen and found Natasha, dressed in a long sweater and leggings, pulling an apple pie out of my oven with an eye on something simmering on the stove top.

"Almost ready," Natasha announced without looking at me. "I've got apple pie for sweet comfort food and noodle bowls if you want savory."

Suddenly, my stomach reminded me I had had a fraction of a waffle and a single sandwich during the entire day. I was famished.

"Both," I answered, bowing to the inevitable.

"Excellent choice. Get changed and we'll watch a story of True Love."

"And perfect breasts," Adam chimed in from the couch.

"What about the R.O.U. ?" Michael asked.

"I don't think they exist," I joked.

I wasn't tackled by a Rodent Of Unusual Size, but Natasha's hug was perfectly timed. I was taller than her now by a few inches, but for just a moment, I let myself lean in and soak up the scent of vanilla that never left her. Sometimes, even when I think I know what I need, my friends will prove me wrong.

I don't consider myself an expert or lover of fashion. I dress for necessity or purpose, like the dressy but un-flashy black clothing for concerts, or the skirts and blouses I wore to work. But given a choice, I preferred comfort. So on a day like today when I wore the somber black turtleneck and gray skirt, I was relieved to strip those articles off and slip into flannel pants and a roomy tee shirt.

Back in the living room, Michael waved me over, pulling me next to his side with an arm around my shoulders. I brought me feet up and curled in, taking the offered blanket and tucking it around us both. Natasha ferried over bowls filled with soba noodles, shittake mushrooms, carrots, green onions, and a rich broth and then sat between Adam and me, cross-legged so that her knees rested on both of our laps. I adjusted the blanket and then adjusted my bowl when Hannah leapt into my lap and settled in.

My couch was not really built for four people and a cat, but Natasha was never shy, Michael and I had slept together, and Natasha and Adam were probably still sleeping with each other, so no one was really bothered by the close quarters.

Natasha, Michael, and Adam kept up their slapstick routine, which wasn't difficult given the choice in film. I kept out of it, just let the camraderie wash over me, but my mind was also on Hotch and Jack. Arrogant as it was, I was worried that they had been without me for two nights in a row, but I wasn't sure if I was forcing myself in.

The day caught up with me once the movie was over, so Adam and Natasha headed out (likely to spend the rest of the night together judging from the way they were holding hands).

"There's another pie and two casseroles in your freezer," Natasha told me before she walked out. "Take them to Hotch's tomorrow, okay?"

"Of course," I said, hugging her tightly in gratitude.

I looked at Michael and raised my eyebrows. "I know you're going to be sweet and offer to sleep on my couch, but I'm really okay and just want some sleep."

Michael stared me down for a second, but eventually he nodded. "Okay. But I'm right across the hall, got it?"

I kissed him on the cheek and then finally, I was alone. In my bedroom, I went to the trunk at the end of my bed and pulled out two rose scented candles and my matches. I placed them on my windowsill and lit them. One for my mother, one for Haley.

Jack was too young to really understand what had happened, but I knew one day, he would ask what had happened to his mother. And maybe, I would end up telling him about my mother, too.

My bed beckoned, so I curled up under the covers and hugged a pillow to my chest. Tomorrow I would return to campus and then the fun would really get good.

.

I had gone through this before. I had gone from a normal high school student to the girl whose mother was murdered and then the girl who had been attacked by a serial killer. Notoriety and I were old friends.

Well, I had lasted half a semester as a normal college student until this week; now I was the girl who was taken into federal custody. So I knew what to expect when I showed up at Aural Skills that first morning back. And I wasn't disappointed. As soon as I walked into the classroom, the handful of students already there looked up at my entrance and then, well, pounced.

The questions weren't exactly original and basically boiled down to "What happened?"

I looked around at them all, people I wanted to call new friends—Anne Marie, Simon, Calleigh, and Kira. I had no idea what they must have thought, watching armed federal agents burst into their classroom and haul me away. Megan had told me she hunted each of them down and gave them the bare bones, but they deserved more.

So I gave them more. I had to start over and repeat parts as other students came in, but the jist went something like this:

"So, you guys know that I lost my parents a couple years ago, right? And one of my dad's co-workers became my legal guardian. A serial killer he was chasing came after him and threatened his family, so his ex-wife and son had to go into hiding. But then the serial killer came back and that's when the agents come to get me to keep me safe. But his ex-wife was murdered, so I've been helping him out for the past week."

Bare bones, straight-toned, but I managed to tell the story, and it was every bit as painful as when I had first shared the only-partially-true version of my parents.

I also accepted the horrified reactions and shocked expressions as I, once again, shattered their safe little worlds. I keep forgetting sometimes that I was used to hearing the tragic stories of the BAU cases, they weren't.

I was just grateful when Dr. Hodgins showed up and got class started. He spared me a brief, sympathetic look. I think Megan must have given the staff more details than the students.

After class was over, I fielded the follow up questions. Just as I was running out of calm, my knight in shining armour came to my rescue.

"Doesn't everyone have classes to get to?"

The British accent stood out among the other voices, and eventually, everyone scattered. Anne Marie and Simon muttered apologies for ganging up on me and ducked into a practice room, leaving me alone with Matthew.

"I really hope that you heard everything so that I don't have to go through it all again," I practically begged.

"No worries," Matthew assured me. He looked me over from head to toe with soft eyes and a gentle smile. "You look like you could use a cup of tea."

I smiled back. "Desperately."

Matthew escorted me to the library café, bought a couple teas and shortbread cookies, and brought them over to the table I had already claimed.

"There, that should buck you up," he assured me, setting a ceramic mug fulll of fragrant, steaming tea in front of me.

The idiom, combined with the accent, and his tea-is-the-solution-to-everything attitude, I finally worked up the gumption to ask the question that had been stalking my mind.

"So, how did you end up here from England?"

"Actually, my family moved to New York when I was eight," Matthew explained. "Dad's an international banker and got transferred from London to the New York City branch."

"But you're studying church music," I argued. "I would think you would want to be close to English cathedrals."

"Clearly you've never been to the National Cathedral in DC," Matthew countered.

I conceded the point. "Got me. Mom was never very religious and neither was Dad."

Then again, Dad had once quoted Revelations in a rural cabin in Georgia when Reid had been abducted by Tobias Hankel. I sipped my tea to shake off that memory.

"Not to repeat what I'm sure you've heard all day, but how are you doing?"

I sighed and gave the only answer I had. "I'm not really sure. I mean, I wasn't close with her, not like I am with Hotch, but she was a good woman, a good mother, and he—" my voice broke just a bit, but I had practice keeping it at that.

"Hey."

Matthew reached out and wrapped his hand around mine, squeezing it gently.

"You don't have to be strong all the time. If ever there was someone who deserved to have a cry, it would be you."

"No," I cut him off. "I already cried, and now I have to hold it together."

I couldn't explain any more than that. I didn't want to admit to him that I already knew I had the potential to check out of my life like I had that summer right after my mom died. How there had been days at a time when I hadn't even gotten out of bed. How often or how long I had cried, how easily the tears would come over me again and again. I wouldn't ever explain the numbness that had set in after Dad left—like another death—and what I had done to try to get rid of that feeling.

No, it was better that I had a reason to set it all aside.

Matthew seemed to realize I wasn't going to change my answer, but he still offered, "Well, when you come to a time where you don't want to hold it together, when you don't want to be strong, you come to me, promise?"

I had plenty of people in my life who would know exactly what I was going through and who would never mind me crying on their shoulders. I certainly didn't need to add anyone else to the list. But the way Matthew was staring at me, the way he kept his hand on mine…

"I promise," I found myself saying. "I do."

"Good," Matthew said, accepting and casual. "Now, don't forget your tea."

I burst out laughing. "There's no way you are actually that British, come on."

Matthew immediately launched into telling stories about the cultural differences that happened in his family all the time.

"So, we'd been living in New York for a few years before we went back to England for a visit, and we're packing, and my sister, she was only a little girl when we first moved, she finds some coins Mum was collecting for the trip and asked what they were. Mum's jaw just about hit the floor when she realized her little princess didn't recognize pounds and pence!"

"You're joking."

"Honest to God."

"So, I imagine no Thanksgiving celebration for your family then?" I asked.

Matthew shrugged. "Not really, no. What about you?"

"For years, it was just me and my parents," I started. "That first year after they were gone, wasn't really in the mood. But last year, my best friend invited myself, Hotch, Spencer, and my other best friend to join her family."

"That was kind."

"She's also a professional chef, the food was amazing."

Eventually, we headed off to choir and I found myself with an honor guard made up of Anne Marie and Matthew to fend off other gossip-seekers. Luckily my business classmates were clueless about what had happened last week (not a lot of cross over from the music majors to spread the story). Simon took over the honor guard in orchestra, and then I was free to go to Hotch's apartment.

When I arrived, I found that Jack was playing at the table and Jessica was making pancakes.

"Chi-chi!"

Jack raced over to me, like he had been doing ever since he had reached for me the day of his mother's murder. He would probably outgrow it one day, but I melted every time he did it.

"Hey, Jack, what's Aunt Jessica making for dinner?"

"Pancakes, because you don't eat meat," the four-year-old answered earnestly.

I looked up at Haley's sister and smiled. "Thank you."

"It's breakfast for dinner," Jessica pointed out to me, like that was reason enough.

"What could be better?" Hotch joked, joining us in the kitchen.

I smiled as Jack told Hotch about his toys (good guy beating the bad guy, big surprise) and Hotch sent Jack off to wash his hands before dinner. I went to the fridge and began pulling out the milk, orange juice, and strawberries to go with the pancakes that Jessica was flipping onto a platter.

"Chief Strauss was here today," Hotch announced to the two of us.

"I thought the internal investigation cleared you," I objected.

"They did," Hotch assured me.

"So what did Strauss want?" I asked suspiciously. I had met Deputy Chief Erin Strauss only a handful of times, but I had heard about her from Hotch and Reid. Not to mention she was the one who had suspended Hotch after the last case my father had worked, leading my father to blame himself and eventually leave. I was not exactly her biggest fan.

"She offered me retirement."

My head snapped up, but I had no idea what to say. I simply let Jessica assure Hotch that he should return to the BAU and she would help with Jack whenever he was on a case.

Jack arrived, ending the conversation, but I was grateful. I was still processing my own feelings, but I engaged in the dinner conversation that Jessica and Hotch kept up with Jack. I started to clean up the dishes while Jessica went with Jack to pick out books to read.

"I know that you think I shouldn't go back," Hotch said quietly behind me.

I turned around to face him, my hands dripping with water, stunned.

"That's not what I think," I corrected him.

Hotch didn't look convinced. "Your father shouldn't have come back to the team after your mother's death."

"Dad shouldn't have gone back after the bombings in Boston," I argued. At the time, I hadn't realized just how much Dad had been damaged, but I didn't know at fourteen what I knew now. But looking back, it was easy to see that Dad probably would have been better off leaving the Bureau or just remaining as an instructor at Quantico.

"Still, I want you to know that I wouldn't abandon Jack the way—"

"The way Dad did," I finished for him. Duing the years that Hotch had been my legal guardian, he had never criticized Dad around me. It seemed that he still didn't want to disparage him in front of me.

"But Hotch, you are not my father. Take retirement, go back to the BAU, you will still be there for him whenever you can. Either way, Jack will have his father. I know you, Hotch. You won't leave him for anything."

His face was inscutable and I couldn't read him. "What do you think I should do?"

I sucked in a slow breath through my mouth. That was what I had been struggling with all through dinner. Finally, I gave him the only answer I could.

"Every day, people are murdered, raped, attacked, just all the time." I looked Hotch straight in the eye, which wasn't always easy to do with any profilers, let alone Hotch. "You, you and the others, you help them. You catch the people who hurt and kill others and keep them from doing it again and again and again. And if that stops even one family from going through what we've been through…"

Maybe I should have left it at that, but we had been through too much together.

"Then even though there will be days that Jack is going to hate the fact that you miss a big game or just dinner, and even though he might say he hates you, he will understand that the world needs people like you. He'll watch the news and hear about how the BAU caught another serial killer and made the world just a little bit safer, even just for a moment. And he'll be proud of you, like I am."

I turned back to the sink, both to give Hotch a chance to think and myself a chance to recover. The reminder that my life could have been drastically different if my father hadn't returned to the BAU (twice) was hard. But the only small comfort I had had whenever I felt like my father had never been around much was that there were people who kept their lives because of him. That hadn't made everything right, but it had made things better.

At least, that's what I could remind myself when I was rational.

I felt Hotch's hand hand brush the back of my neck. "Thank you."

"And if you do go back," I added. "I want to help with Jack."

"Jessica said—"

"I know what she said. Maybe we take turns, she'll fill in if you're called out during the week, I'll take the weekends, I don't know. But I want to help you and him." I swallowed past the lump in my throat. "I need to help."

In the time since Haley had been murdered, I had never told Hotch how I felt guilty or how I had told Reid and Emily that I felt that if I had gone with her and Jack into Witness Protection, Haley might still be alive. I didn't tell him about my promise just the day before at Haley's grave to take care of him and Jack to make up for it.

But like always, it seemed that I didn't need to.

"I will always appreciate your help and you know Jack loves you, but I never want you to feel obligated out of a sense of guilt that you don't even need to feel."

"I hate profilers," I complained under my breath. I then looked him straight in the eye. "But I still want to help."

"Thank you."

"We're family," I reminded him. "This is what families do."

Notes:

...so I realize that it's been over a year since the last chapter I posted. I want to first apologize for the long wait and then assure everyone that I have three lengthy chapters ready to go and a fourth in the works. I have no intention of abandoning this series at this time, life just got a little full for the past year (I bought my first home, moved out, got on stage for the first time in years). The usual practice of posting weekly for the chapters I will apply for the next handful of chapters and then hopefully not too long a wait while I finish off this season.

Thanks for coming back.

Cantoris