Spencer's ears still rang half an hour after the bomb blew apart an office building in Boston.

Six agents are dead. The death toll would've been much greater had it been a weekday.

The EMTs said his eardrums bore no severe damage but to follow up with his doctor at home.

At that moment, Spencer remembered that he'd never found a GP after moving to DC. He never had the time to research a possible family doctor.

Why think about doctors when Gideon is – he looked toward his Unit Chief, who stood near Hotch with blood splattered on his clothing and his hands—secondary transfer from trying to save their friend and fellow profiler.

CPR is only effective seven percent outside a hospital.

Gideon hadn't stopped until the EMTs pulled him off Timothy, and Hotch had restrained him.

The ringing in Spencer's ears finally stopped as two more ambulances left without flashing lights and sirens in the low light of the coming sunset.

No need when the occupants are dead!

Tim had been friendly from day one. He was one of the few that didn't treat Spencer like a walking computer.

The sun dropped to the horizon, and Spencer watched it through squinted eyes. It was better than watching Gideon stare blankly into infinity and – not know what to say.

Several hours later, on the jet – Spencer shifted restlessly in his seat. They were half an hour into the seventy-minute flight to DC. He didn't know why, but short flights made him anxious, or maybe it was what they left behind that scraped at his nerves.

Two minutes later, he saw JJ returning to her seat carrying two steaming cups. The fragrance of coffee washed over her with the spicy perfume she wore.

"I thought you'd like a cup." She said, stopping near his seat.

"Ah, yeah. Thanks, JJ."

"You're welcome, Spence."

He gaped in surprise at her as she handed him the cup.

Spence!

She'd never called him that until now. No one ever addressed him by anything other than his full name. Why? What did it mean? It made him feel – shivers down to his toes.

Does it have to mean something?

No, it didn't need to mean something, but Spencer liked it, and he could pretend.

JJ smiled at him and went to her seat. He lifted the cup and turned. He saw Morgan smirking at him, and his cheeks began to burn. He dropped his eyes and concentrated on his coffee until his embarrassment cooled.

Will I ever fit in?