Chapter 43

How the hell, Hotch thought, do you select a casket for an infant?

He had learned the rules back when Emily had "died" in Boston, moving a body interstate required that it be embalmed, sealed in a casket, and transported by common carrier. Right now Maggie, having been released by the coroner, was in the back being carefully tended to by the undertaker, which meant that he and JJ had to pick out her casket. He could have asked Blake but, after everything, this had to be his duty. Maybe it was something only another parent could know. "You know, just having choices is disturbing." JJ said.

"I know."

"We don't have any clothes for her."

"They're going to put her in a white dress and wrap her in the blanket Laura made for her."

"That works." JJ looked at the closest one. "This is a plastic trunk. Reid would not go for a plastic trunk."

"Or a plain pine box." Hotch replied, looking at the nearest one, "Even if the monks who handcrafted it do consider it a cradle to take a child to a better place."

"Don't go there, remember what Garcia said." JJ looked at the next one. "And I can't see him going for the all over pink chiffon ruffles either."

"Or the gold angels on white, bearing her off to her heavenly rest." Hotch looked at the next one in line. "This one," he said. It was a classic Victorian style, dark wood, more than a little old-fashioned, communicating dignity and gravitas.

JJ came over and looked. "Yeah. That's it. He's go for that one."

"It's missing something though."

"What?"

"Stay here. I'll be back."

It didn't take long. Within the hour Hotch was knocking on the funeral director's door. "Would you put this in there with her, please?" He said, handing over the smallest teddy bear he could find. "It's from her extended family."

That evening Dave, now knowing Laura and Spencer's intentions, decided to make soup. Something in a hearty Tuscan bean, he decided, with sausage and beans and carrots and lots of kale, which was just coming in. He paired it with some crusty, whole grain bread from a bakery he was fond of, and mellow red wine for those who were drinking. And for desert, "I hope you like cheesecake." He said as he got started.

Laura's eyes sparkled, "Lemon cheesecake?"

"Nope, just the regular stuff."

"Still, it sounds wonderful. I have been craving lemon cheesecake for months."

"Next time I'm keeping a shelf in the fridge just for that." Spencer told her. "And I'm keeping it stocked."

Dave had to smile himself at the look they exchanged. Ah, that was love there. With his own pang he remembered how Carolyn had turned carnivore on him. She had not been able to get enough meat in her system. She wasn't anemic; they checked three times, she just wanted rare meat every single day. He remembered all the late night burger runs, how it felt good to do something, anything, while she was bearing the burden. He made a mental note to find a bakery that carried lemon cheesecakes so he could tell Spencer when the time came.

"Sure I can't help?" Laura asked.

"Next week, bella. This week you rest." Dave told her. She had ensconced herself in the comfortable wing chair he kept for when he had female guests over to watch him cook, among other things. It was a cozy corner of the kitchen, with room for the basket she had borrowed to hold the yarn Garcia was bringing her. And it gave Munchie company, there was a rug there where he could lay at her feet and be out of the way of the work. While the sadness still wrapped Laura and Spencer in matching shrouds there was a sense that they were settled into the process now, working through it in a healthy sort of way, and no longer alone, which was what mattered. "Although I might make your husband and Morgan do the dishes. Stop," he said when Spencer went to protest. "I know you don't have the paperwork, but it's the only thing that's missing, you don't have to be a profiler to tell." They both turned red so nicely too.

"Actually I was going to say that you probably don't want me handling anything breakable." Spencer raised his cast in reminder.

"Good point. We'll make Morgan do all the work. We'll go over the files." Dave was also getting a sense that Spencer, under all the grief, was bored. Not with Laura's company, but for such a nimble mind the work they did was an endless series of puzzles and conundrums, just waiting to be figured out, and Spencer missed the intellectual stimulation. Not that he was anywhere close to actually going back to work; a quiet discussion earlier in the day had cleared that up. He wouldn't be comfortable even going back into the office until Laura was able to go out on her own and more familiar with the area, wouldn't go out into the field until she had a place to live. That said there was a backlog of files that he'd be willing to help clear after the funeral if he could do them at home But Spencer was bored so Morgan had gone for some files, some consults to look over after dinner.

Not too much time later Morgan arrived with a file box. Garcia, with shopping bags in hand, was right on his heels. "Cascade superwash," she said. "And Lantern Moon needles because you really deserve the best, and some notions although I know you're going to get more."

"More?" Spencer asked.

"Oh yeah. Remember that discussion we had about shoes?"

"Shoes?" All of a sudden Spencer turned a little green around the gills. He turned to Laura. "How many pairs of shoes did you own?"

"Seven, if you count my snow boots." She replied as she happily prowled through the bag. "I was considering making it eight when I was taken. If you include these," She indicated the plain, white sneakers on her feet, "probably nine at most."

"Okay, that's not natural." Morgan said.

"No, see, when you're a knitter or a sewer or a crafter that instinct gets shifted to yarn and fabric and tools." Garcia told them. She looked over at Laura. "How much stash did you have?" Laura got a faraway look as she tried to quantify. "See."

"Yeah, I'm sorry love." Laura said to Spencer. "You're just going to have to get used to stash. And project bags. And notions, and…" Spencer looked to Morgan for help but only got laughter in reply.

Just then there was a knock on the door. Morgan went to answer it, took one look, and tried to step out of the way. He wasn't successful and a pile of bags was thrust into his arms. "Where's my girl?" Tonya asked. A moment later the two friends were reuniting in the corner of Dave's kitchen. "There you are." Tonya cooed as she hugged Laura tight. "I knew it; I knew you'd be back. The quiet ones are always the strongest, always."

After a prolonged hug Laura stepped back. "I…I…"

"Shhh. Derek told me what happened. I bet she was as pretty as her Momma." With that Laura burst into tears again and the hug resumed.

Dave left a glass of water nearby, given that Laura had been crying off and on since they landed yesterday dehydration was a vague concern. "I'm Dave Rossi." He said over Laura's shoulder, "Staying for dinner?"

"Tonya Wilson. Sure. You're going to have trouble getting rid of me tonight."

"That's all right, I don't mind." Dave turned and caught sight of the look on Morgan's face. Well hello. "Don't mind at all."