Related episode: 3.4 Children of the Dark

Key Change-a type of modulation in harmony when the key of the piece is changed, altering the tonic center of the piece

My brother, John Jacobs, kept looking back and forth between Hotch and me. It was almost like he didn't know who he needed to convince.

"I wish I could take you in, Rachel," John said, looking at me only to turn and face Hotch. "My wife's father is already moving in with us for care. Also—" Here, John hesitated before turning back to me. "Kat is pregnant. We found out right after the funeral. And, well, we already know from the ultrasounds that we're having twins. We just won't have room for you."

If Mom had been alive, John would have called her as soon as he knew Kat was pregnant. She would have been his first call after each appointment and Mom would have told me right away. But if Mom were alive, I wouldn't need a new home to begin with.

"Rachel, I'm sorry, I really am. Agent Hotchner, I can't tell you how much I appreciate what you've done for my sister. And I don't want you to think that I'm turning Rachel away. It's just, my wife and I spent days talking this out and we can't think of any way to make it all work."

Hotch's face was completely closed off. I couldn't tell what he was thinking at all. I wouldn't want to be playing poker against that face.

"I understand your brother Scott is also unwilling?" Hotch asked for confirmation.

John sighed. "Don't bother with Scott. He hardly speaks to me as it is. And I've been trying to reach Alan, but he's out of communications range for the next month. At best, it will take one of the local messengers a week to get to him and another week for him to get back where we can talk with him."

"Excuse me," I said, not really waiting for permission.

I walked out of Hotch's office, through the bull pen and ignoring the looks from Reid, Morgan, and Prentiss, and headed straight for the women's bathroom. John had arrived this afternoon and met Hotch and me here at the BAU after school to discuss my options. I know it had been Hotch's plan for John to offer to take me in, in the aftermath of Mom's death and Dad's abandonment. And even though I didn't want to move all the way to San Francisco, it still hurt that John didn't offer. I had thought he was one of my brothers that I could count on. Just goes to show.

Legally, there was a vacuum. Mom's will named Dad my guardian and with him gone, there was no instruction for what to do after that. And Dad hadn't left any instruction about my welfare when he left for parts unknown.

Why did Dad leave? Hotch's theory is that I reminded him of his failure. Reid told me that Dad had told him that he just didn't understand life any longer. I thought he was a coward.

I splashed water on my face to hide the traces of fresh tears and left the bathroom. Instead of returning to Hotch's office where I saw him and John still talking, I made a beeline for Reid's desk. Dr. Spencer Reid was Dad's protégé on the Behavior Analysis Unit in the FBI. I always figured that Dad saw Reid more as a son so he was always bringing him along for family dinners. In all honesty, I knew Reid better than John or any of my other brothers. And vice versa.

Reid's desk was covered in file folders, but he wordlessly cleared off a section so I could hop up and sit. Reid even reached into one of his drawers and handed me a Heath bar. I unwrapped the candy and chewed methodically.

"No San Francisco?" Reid asked. He was a profiler like all the others and probably read my facial features.

I shook my head, beyond used to rarely keeping secrets from him about my emotions. "I didn't want to go anyway," I said.

Reid also knew me personally well enough to leave it at that.

"You know, my dad left me when I was ten years old," Reid told me randomly.

I looked up in surprise. If he was trying to distract me, it was working; I had always wanted to know about Reid's family but Dad had always told me not to bring it up.

"And my mom is schizophrenic, so I was always taking care of her more than she was of me," Reid went on.

"And now Dad walked out on you, too," I said.

Reid winced. "Yeah. And both times, I was left with a letter."

Damn. I wouldn't say that I thought Reid had it worse than me—his mother was still alive at least—but I couldn't imagine being abandoned by two father figures. Then again, I felt like I was being abandoned by John, so it wasn't that far off.

Some of that must have been showing on my face because Reid reached out and took my hand.

"We'll take care of you, Rachel," he said fiercely. "I won't leave you."

"You're a better brother than the ones related to me," I confessed. I was rewarded with a sheepish grin.

Morgan, who had been tactfully ignoring us for privacy, snapped his fingers to get our attention. "Heads up, man."

John and Hotch were coming out of his office and walking down the stairs. Reid let go of my hand and pulled up the nearest file to work on. I reluctantly stood up and met the men at the bottom of the steps.

"Rachel," John tried to apologize again.

I shook my head. "It's okay. Tell Kat good luck."

I let myself be hugged and then watched my only hope for a home walk out. Once he was gone, I could practically feel Hotch radiate disapproval.

"He has his own family," I found myself defending my brother. "And we were never that close."

Hotch shot me a sidelong glance. "That's no excuse."

When I didn't agree or disagree, because I wasn't sure how I really felt, Hotch sighed and reached into his pocket. He handed me a pair of keys.

"He said that you had worked out an agreement to swap cars."

Actually, John and Dad had worked that out right after Mom died. John and Kat wanted Mom's Suburban and planned to trade me for Kat's Corolla with cash to cover the price difference.

"I'll have Garcia handle the finances and title transfer," Hotch told me.

"Thank you," I told him. I was thanking him a lot lately for a lot of reasons.

"There's still your brother Alan, and Garcia is tracking down Jason's son."

I shook my head again. "I don't want Alan to give up a career he loves just for me. Stephen is a stranger, I've never met him."

Hotch had nothing to say to that. I really felt bad that he had to watch out for me in the mean time. On the same day we realized that Dad was gone for good, Hotch's wife Haley had left him. Part of me wanted to tell him to forget about me, but I wasn't brave or selfless enough. Right now, Hotch and the team were the only people who knew what my life was like. They were there when Mom had been killed and they had all be left by Dad like I was. I couldn't lose them, too.

"I should get back to work," Hotch said. "Now that you have a car here, do you want to go back to the house? I'll be home later."

"I'll stop and see Garcia first, but sure," I answered.

There was a ghost of a smile on Hotch's face. "Of course. If you left without saying hello, it would be disastrous."

My back pack was still at Reid's desk from when I had first arrived. As I walked down the aisle, both Morgan and Prentiss gave me encouraging nods. Reid stood up when I got to him.

"We'll work something out," he promised me. "You're not alone."

I sniffed back tears. Those words were the nicest things to hear. "Thanks, Reid."

"You know, you could call me Spencer."

I sniffed back more tears. "Thanks, Spencer."

There was an awkward moment when I wasn't sure if he would hug me. Reid, Spencer, didn't touch people very often, so I was surprised when he bent over a little and wrapped his arms around me. I leaned into him a little and then pulled back. Any more touchy-feely stuff and I was going to break down. Again.

I pulled away from Reid and said my good byes to Morgan and Prentiss. Even if I wasn't as close to them as Reid, Hotch, and Garcia, they were already more constant than my own family. I was beginning to realize that that counted for more than genetics.

I found my way to Garcia's office easily, having visited there as often as Hotch's office and Reid's desk. Though no profiler, Garcia still only had to look at my face to know what had happened.

"Oh, chickadee. Do you want me to trash his credit?"

Garcia's threat wasn't idle. I was no expert of computers, but I didn't need to be in order to know that Garcia was the goddess of the technological and cyber worlds. Add that to being fiercely protective and Garcia made for a dangerous enemy.

"No," I answered. "They've got a senior citizen moving in and twins on the way."

"Still no excuse," Garcia groused, an eerie echo of Hotch's sentiment. She turned back to her keyboards and clicked away for a moment before turning back to me.

"I'm already seeing a transfer into your trust fund from your brother's shared account," she informed me matter-of-factly, as if it wasn't a big deal to hack into my online banking records. "Guilt money?"

Not like I took it personally. "For the car swap."

The queen of information grumbled and danced her fingers across the keyboards again. "Consider the title transferred to your name as we speak. And I'll play around with your trust so that you have a nice sum of money when you're twenty one."

As far as I understood it, the money from selling our old house was enough to buy another one. That plus my share of Mom's insurance policy made me feel rich even if I was no such thing. Now, with Dad gone, I had apparently inherited Dad's cabin out in the woods and a portion of his pension. Selling the cabin would get me another chunk of change I was told.

But my head was spinning and I just wanted to go—well, not home as I didn't really have one, but at least back to my room at Hotch's house. So I made my excuses to Garcia and tracked down my new car in the parking lot. John must have driven it here and then called a cab to his hotel, or the airport for all I knew and cared.

The late model Corolla was burgundy colored and a good size for me. Inside, I found all the compartments had been emptied, as well as the three slot CD changer. Having none on me, I turned the radio onto the local classical station.

I held myself together on the drive, adjusting to the gears and other necessary features. Once I got to the house and went up to my room, I stopped putting on an act. My face crumbled even though my eyes stayed dry. I had thought I felt alone before, it was nothing compared to how I felt now. John had been my last option, no matter what Hotch thought of my remaining two brothers. How was it possible that I could have four brothers, all old enough to become my legal guardian, and have no place to go?

Eventually, I started to resign myself to entering the foster care system. Or maybe I could petition for emancipation. Technically, I had the money now.

Hours later, Hotch came home with his poker face still on. I figured he was either still upset at John or he had tried talking with Haley again. He was always careful to make those calls when I wasn't around, but I could always tell when they had happened. And from Hotch's stoic demeanor, Haley was still refusing to come back.

Personally, I actually tried not to think about it too much. As much as I liked both Hotch and Haley, I did think they both had a point. And I had my own problems to deal with, as selfish as that sounded.

The next morning, despite my new car ownership, I still had to be driven to school by Hotch. Car I had, parking space in the student lot I did not. I turned in my homework for each class, but unlike my previous two years of high school, I did not actively participate during class. While all of my teachers had expressed their understanding, especially once news of Dad's departure got around the rumor mill, I could tell that most of them worried about me. But even that concern felt far removed, so I paid it little attention.

During the morning, I got a text message from Hotch that the team had gone out on a case. I caught the bus to the right neighborhood. I was a good little girl and did my homework, ate dinner, cleaned up, and answered when Garcia called to check up on me. I had to take the bus to school the next morning and started my day again.

At lunch, I sat with Mark and wondered again at how he put up with me. Any other guy would probably have written me off months ago, but Mark continued to sit with me, talk with me, kiss me.

"Sorry, what?" I had to ask at one point during the conversation.

Mark smiled patiently at me even when the others around the table sighed at my lack of attention again. "I was saying, my parents will be out late tonight and they agreed I could have people over."

He looked so hopeful, but didn't directly ask me if I would come. He kept waiting for me in more ways than one. And whenever we were together, the little cold spot in my core started to thaw.

"What time should I come over?" I asked, injecting a little enthusiasm into my tone.

Mark smiled brightly and leaned in close to kiss my cheek. "Whenever you want," he whispered in my ear.

With Hotch out of town, I planned with Mark to go home with him directly after school. So after my US History AP class, I went to my locker and packed up for the day. I was about to go when Michael approached me.

Michael also knew me well enough to read beneath my face mask. Wordlessly, he reached out and squeezed my shoulder.

"What happens now?" he asked.

I shrugged painfully. "Foster care I guess. I was giving emancipation serious consideration."

"I'll be a legal adult in May," Michael reminded me. "Just wait that long and then we'll find someplace together."

Unlike me, Michael has been waiting to leave home since he was thirteen. His mother had walked out on him and his father was a drunk.

"This summer," I agreed.

Michael nodded toward someone over my shoulder. "Prince Charming is here."

He disappeared when I turned to look and I let him. It may have been awkward, having a guy best friend and a boyfriend at the same time, but I didn't know what I would do without either Mark or Michael. I couldn't lose another person in my life and stay sane. I just couldn't.

Mrs. Amborn, Mark's mother, picked us up and drove us home. She was very sympathetic to me and fussed until I convinced her I was really okay. Most of that was a lie, but Mrs. Amborn was no profiler. Even when she was gone, Mark and I played it safe, concentrating on homework while his parents got ready for their night out. They were gone by five and kids started to come at five thirty. By six, the stereo was blaring in one room, the TV was showing a movie in the basement, and we had called out for pizzas.

All told, there were only around twenty five of us in the house at any given time. And despite what movies will have you believe, nothing was out of control. Most of us were music students or jocks, with a spring break tour or athletic practices to insure our good behavior. Sure, there was something extra in the punch, and I knew a few kids were smoking outside, but it didn't seem like anything was getting out of hand.

I was content to sit next to Mark as the small party sounded around us. After some initial hesitation, I eventually had my own cup of spiked punch. It felt like fire going down my throat and I needed that. I was tired of feeling numb.

Around ten thirty, the music changed its tempo to something less frantic and more intimate. I was so aware of Mark's arm around my shoulders, his fingers rubbing the bare skin of my arm. But this was also the most social I'd been in awhile and I was starting to get uncomfortable.

"Want to get some air?" Mark suggested.

"Yeah, can we?"

Instead of outside, Mark led me up the stairs to his bedroom. I had been there before, for both innocent reasons and several make out sessions. Looking at his bed and hearing the faint thrum of the music downstairs, I made up my mind.

As soon as Mark closed his door, I faced him and took my shirt off. I hadn't been thinking of sex this morning when I got dressed, but at least my bra was lavender colored and a silky material. Mark looked at me for a breath before reaching behind himself to lock the door. In two steps, he was right in front of me, seizing my face in his hands and kissing me hungrily.

I kissed back, trying to feed the fire deep in my belly to burn away all the cold. I reached for his own shirt, pulling at it until Mark broke off and tore it off and over his head. When we came back together, his right hand wrapped around my back to pull me close and the other made its exploration over my neck, shoulder, rib cage, and breast.

My own hands mapped out his pectorals and abdominals, feeling the runner's physique.

"Are you sure?" Mark asked. He'd been waiting on me for awhile.

"Yes," I gasped. "Please." Please make the cold go away. Please love me, please don't leave me.

With that last shred of self-restraint appeased, Mark gently but forcibly nudged me to his bed, stopping when my legs hit the mattress. The hand that was wound around me reached up and unhooked my bra with quick motions. Mark stepped back to let the garment fall to the floor.

Both of us breathing heavily, Mark reached out and caressed my bare skin, movements gentle and needy at the same time. Gathering my courage, I reached out and undid the button on his jeans, tracing the skin at the edge of his boxers. Mark's hips hitched forward involuntarily and his hissed out his breath. In seconds, he was completely naked. Seconds after that, I stepped out of my own pants and underwear.

There was nothing after that but skin-on-skin and erratic breathing. Mark gave me a hickey on my collar bone; I left scratch marks on his shoulders from the first spike of pain. I had known the birds and the bees since second grade thanks to my doctor mother, so the pain wasn't a surprise (though that detail hadn't been learned until I was fourteen).

When I looked at the clock while trying to catch my breath, I was surprised to note only a half hour had passed. It had felt like longer.

"Um, I should start telling everyone to go home," Mark spoke. "I'm sure Mom would let you stay and sleep on the couch."

I shook my head, feeling strange and unattached. "That's all right."

"If you're sure."

We got up and started pulling our clothes back on. I checked myself in the bathroom mirror before following Mark downstairs. I hadn't been wearing any make up to smudge and I finger-combed my hair back into order. But I looked the same: pale skin, tired eyes, a mouth more prone to frowning than smiling lately. And despite what I had felt moments ago, I was back to feeling numb and hollow.

Downstairs, half the kids were gone and the other half were pitching in to clean up. When they saw me, I realized that everyone guessed what had happened. I saw knowing smirks, judgmental eyes, and even sniffs of disapproval. I heard loud voices in the next room, Mark's among them. He was being teased, sure, but mostly I heard approval and encouragement.

I found my back pack and jacket and fled the house. At the end of the driveway, I pulled out my phone and called Michael. Thankfully, he didn't ask me questions over the phone and he didn't ask questions while he drove me to Hotch's house. He just did what I asked and let me decide when to tell him what had happened. But I didn't want to talk about it that night.

I thought I could just go inside, take a shower, and crawl into bed. It wasn't until I was about to walk up the stairs and the living room light clicked on that I realized I wasn't alone.

"Rachel."

Hotch was sitting in a chair, giving me his very best stern expression. A look I realized he must use on suspects under interrogation.

"I didn't know you were coming back tonight," I commented, stalling for time.

"If you had actually spoken with Garcia tonight instead of texting your response, you would have known we were close to finishing the case," Hotch explained.

I had ignored Garcia's check in call that night and had sent a text saying I was going to bed early.

While I waited, Hotch stood up and walked toward me. I had seen him angry a couple of days ago, and now he was angry with me. Part of me realized that I should be somewhat afraid, but I still felt unattached from the world.

"We'll discuss this tomorrow," Hotch said firmly, his tone promising that I was in for it.

But I just nodded my agreement and carried out my original plan. I felt nothing while I showered, even when washing my body, and I lay in shock on the bed, trying to fall asleep.

At that point, nothing really mattered.

Notes:

So, I'm really curious as to how people will react to this chapter. I'm just going to say, please no one judge Rachel too harshly, or her family. I think everyone understands why the cards had to fall this way so I did the best I could to write it out accordingly. I'm not setting out to write anyone as a bad person, just a real one.

Thank you all so much for the comments you're leaving. When I read things like this is the best CM story someone's read, it makes me ridiculously happy. Thanks again, you all have no idea how much it means to me. Next chapter will be out next Saturday, but sadly, that will be the last one for a few months. This is part of my "updating" in spurts thing which I'm going to experiment with for this movement.

Happy reading!

Cantoris