Declan climbed into the backseat of Emily's car looking decidedly downtrodden.

Emily frowned at the stark contrast to the boy's normally cheerful upbeat demeanour. "Everything okay, Schnecke?" she asked. He shrugged, but didn't reply verbally, which only deepened her concern since he was normally chatting her ear off the moment he got in the car. "Did something happen at school today?" she prompted.

He replied this time, but it was an indecipherable mumble.

She glanced at him over her shoulder, taking in the sight of the sad little pout on his face and she felt her heart break, just a little. "You can tell me anything," she assured him, "I promise not to get mad."

He looked up at her and seemed to debate whether he believed her for a moment or two before confessing, "We hadta make fambily trees and Sawyer maked fun of me 'cause I only gots a 'dopted mom 'stead of a real one..."

For a moment, Emily had to physically bite her tongue to stop from saying something six year old ears shouldn't hear. When she eventually managed to swallow down her imminent anger, she said, "I thought you and Sawyer were friends?"

"We usedta be," he said, "Now he's mean to me sometimes."

"Mean to you how?" she demanded, once again flush with anger. Once again, he shrugged, either not wanting to answer or not knowing how to explain. "Is he bullying you?" she asked. This time, he broke down into tears...and if there was one thing Emily Prentiss couldn't abide by, it was her son crying.

Pulling into the nearest parking lot, she threw the car into park and climbed into the backseat so she could pull him into a consoling embrace. He sobbed into her shoulder for a few minutes until his tears gradually slowed and his breathing returned to normal, but for the occasional hiccup.

"I'm sorry, Schnecke," she murmured, dropping a kiss to the top of his head, "No one deserves to be bullied. Especially not someone as sweet and kind as you."

He sniffled, glanced up at her with big tear-filled eyes, and said, "Don't tell Daddy."

She frowned for a moment. She didn't make it a habit of keeping secrets from Ian...but she had to admit that sometimes it was just better to tell a little white lie than give him the whole truth. And, she had a feeling this was one of those times.

Emily woke up in the middle of the night and, for a moment, was unsure what it was that had dragged her from her sleep. In the next moment, though, she realized that the bed beside her was empty and, judging by how cold it was, Ian had yet to come to bed...which never meant anything good.

With a groan, she climbed out of bed, wrapping herself in her robe to go in search of him.

"Going somewhere?" she asked, catching him just as he was about to sneak out the front door.

He whipped around, eyes wide, jaw hanging open a moment or two. He couldn't exactly lie, having been caught red-handed, but he also couldn't tell the truth.

Emily rolled her eyes when it took him far too long to come up with a reply. She descended the stairs so she could look him in the eye and silently dare him to lie to her. Afterall, she was a profiler. (Not to mention that she knew him too well – possibly better than he knew himself.) She studied him for a minute, taking in the little tell-tale signs of mischief in his appearance: the dark clothes perfect for skulking, the alcohol on his breath, the hard set of his eyes that only appeared when he was furious.

She sighed, understanding dawning on her. "You know, don't you?"

The smart move would have been to play dumb, but he'd had one too many whiskys to think of that... "The school called," he said.

"Ian..." she started, holding her hands up in self-defence, "Let's just jump to the end of this argument... Whatever it is you're planning to do, it's a bad idea. You're going to get yourself in trouble, Witsec will have to get involved, we'll likely end up having to be relocated, and all the progress we've made to being a normal happy family will have been for naught. You don't want that, right?" (The emphasis on the last word made it clear she wasn't asking...)

He huffed in frustration. "The little bastard can't get away with it," he snapped.

She didn't bother telling him that it probably wasn't socially acceptable to call a six year old a bastard, that was a matter for another time. "I agree," she conceded, "But we're not breaking the law for the sake of hurt feelings."

He opened his mouth as if to argue, but seemed to decide against it.

"I will, however, allow a little mischief," she said, a playful smile crossing her lips.

He grinned brightly, seeing a hint of Lauren Reynolds emerging... "What did you have in mind?"

(The next morning, Sawyer's family awoke to discover an ant infestation, attracted by the gallons of syrup that someone had poured all over their front steps, walkway, and driveway...not that Ian knew anything about that.)