I don't think about my father's death very often. More often, I think about the consequences of it. His brain tumor, built of cells that divide too much, may have filled his head more but it emptied our lives. My siblings were sent to boarding schools. My mother stopped talking to Stéphane for a year while he fought for custody. Stéphane cried over voicemails she left him, deleting them against my advice. The anger Caro had toward Seb for wanting to stay in New Hampshire leaked onto me. I'm amazed any of us talk at all.

Now, I'm acutely aware the others on my team are field agents. I don't know all that much about their past lives, but I wonder about them while we wait together. Morgan isn't here yet, but every one else is cramped in a narrow hospital hallway. I'm not very good at profiling, but other than Reid, I'm the only one sitting down. We are next to each other. His hands are folded in his lap, his head is tilted down, and if I had only met him here, I might think Reid was praying.

They may be field agents, used to doing things like these, but so am I. I've been in hospitals before. I know how much I cannot do for Penelope. They are operating on her, somewhere deeper in the bowels of the hospital.

"You okay?" I whisper the question to Reid, staring at his red hands, clasped tightly together.

He nods. Reid looks up, turns his cheek toward me so only I can hear his voice.

It comes out like a squeak, "I'm just worried about her."

I nod my head. Hospitals aren't enjoyable. I didn't come back in time to see my father die in the hospital. When he headaches while I was still in high school, I sometimes accompanied him. Dad wouldn't let Stéphane drive, he said his hands shook too much. Stéphane couldn't hold it under pressure the way I could. So it was me, alone, in the hospital, when my father was told that he was working himself too hard, before we knew it was cancer and not stress hurting his head. Waiting was uncomfortable, but it wasn't the worst it could be.

Now waiting in hospitals in Québec, that was truly rotten.

There is nothing good to say to Reid. She's in God's hands, my mother would say, and I never found that helpful. Reid's heard more words than I think I ever will, and I know twice as many languages as him. Any book could say what I want to say but better. Instead, I reach my hand behind him and rub his back. I would take his hand if I didn't know he'd hate the touch. A cotton barrier is hopefully enough for him.

He offers me the saddest of grins.

Morgan bursts in and apologizes for not answering his phone. He was at church. The doctor gives us an update. She will probably pull through. Reid's shoulders relax under my hand, and I tuck it away. I hadn't realized how long I had stayed like that.

The team begins unofficially investigating the case. I, obviously, don't join them. Once Penelope is awake, they ask her questions. I stay overnight, texting Estelle that I won't be home and why. When they are gone, and Garcia is awake, I keep her company. We chat about gaming, computers, and anything else that isn't related to the events that brought her here. I tell her she can talk to me if she needs to do it, but I don't mean it. I doubt she'd take me up on the offer anyway. All of her bobble heads and trinkets in her office at there to distract her from the screens. I don't think she fancies having them her own memories now.

I make a good bobble-head.

Estelle comes to the hospital to meet me three, thick containers stacked on top of the other. Through the doorway I see her trying to juggle them in the hallway. I had just texted her that I'd be leaving soon since they are going to discharge Garcia. I'm exhausted from sleeping upright. Reid told me to leave twice, but I didn't want her to wake up alone, waiting for the next piece of bad news.

"Need a hand?" Morgan asks, taking one of the containers from Estelle.

She smiles at him, "thanks."

"Where you headed, little lady?"

Estelle laughs at him, rolling her eyes. Garcia is awake, and so I only step out into the hallway.

When Estelle sees me, her jaw drops. She shoves the containers into Morgan's hands, and even he can barely manage them at once. She hurries up to me, grabbing my face and pulling it in towards her.

"What have you done to yourself?" she scolds, tsking at the end. "Mieux vaut prévenir que guérir, non?"

I go to pull her hands away but she readjusts her grip on my face, pulling it down to look at her. She taps my puffy eyelids, scrunching her nose.

"You should have come home," she says.

Then, Estelle slips into the room behind me. I turn to look at her from my spot in the doorway, listening to her as she introduces herself to Garcia.

"Bouchard," Morgan says.

I turn my head, taking one of the containers from him. I'm not surprised Estelle did this. After all, Garcia is the one who was interested in her soups. Estelle needs more people in her life to scold. I think it's her very hobby, besides cooking and cryptids.

"That's the roommate?" he asks.

I nod. I'm not entirely sure how much I've mentioned Estelle at the office. Reid might have said something, since he did meet Estelle.

"She single?" he asks, as we walk in, grinning.

"Et tu, Brute?" I hear Garcia's mock shock. "I've been shot you know, not deafened."

"Baby girl, you know I'm only playing," Morgan replies.

Before Garcia is fully discharged, Morgan, Estelle and I carry down the stews she made to Morgan's car. He offers us a ride home before he drops Garcia off, which Estelle accepts before I can say no. The ride home is fine, Morgan's mostly joking around with Garcia, Estelle occasionally chiming in. Her contempt for Morgan is clear, and I'm not sure if it's because he is flirtatious or because he is a profiler and she thinks it's bogus science.

When we are dropped off, she finally says something to me in English.

"I called Stéphane," she says.

I sigh. It bothers me they talk about me when I'm not there. I'm still mad she even got his number from my phone years ago. I do suppose it's only fair. I forgot she was supposed to be out searching for bigfoot this weekend, and I guess I was more frazzled than I realized.

"He's not coming, is he?" I look over at her, trying to read her face. "Stéphane?"

She sighs. I doubt even a profiler could read her. Her mass of hair is pinned out of her face, and even with every inch of her forehead exposed, every line at the corners of her eyes and mouth on display, I cannot read her.

"I told him not to come up until I saw you," Estelle looks over at me. "I told him I wouldn't lie if you looked like shit, which you do. But, I'll tell him you're fine. You are fine, right? This isn't a repeat of May?"

Surprisingly, I'm fine. When Reid was kidnapped, I was beside myself. The moments after I found out are a blur, especially now with so much time behind me.

"Remember when I took that course on crimes against humanity with you?"

Estelle nods her head. We get in the elevator together, standing side by side. There isn't much more I need to add, since we both remember. I was used to reading about crimes. Homicides, kidnappings, sexual assault, all of which were pretty okay. A few case studies we did made me a bit queasy, but nothing more. Until Crimes Against Humanity. I didn't have a great stomach for them at first. The week on the Holocaust wasn't as intense as I expected it to be, so I felt prepared heading into the rest of the course. Rwanda and Sierra Leone were the first real punches to the gut. I could never do what Estelle does, all day long. I couldn't eat after lectures, couldn't think for hours after reading textbooks or UN documents about the atrocities. Now though, I can proof-read Estelle's work and go about my day.

I guess I've never really thought about how hard things get easier. I didn't puke the last time I saw a dead body. I'm acclimating, I suppose.

"It's better now, then?" she asks.

"Yeah," I tell her. She pulls her phone out and I roll my eyes, "I'll tell Stéphane I'm fine."

"You will not," Estelle snaps. "He needs to think I didn't ask you about it. He'll never trust me again when I tell him you're doing okay if you do."

"Does he ask about me regularly?"

"My conversations with your brother are private," she tells me.

I try not to laugh, "unlike my conversations with you."

She glowers at me.

We end up in our apartment, where I relax. Sunday, I try to sleep much of the day. I shower, do all of the things I'm supposed to do. In the evening, I get a call from JJ.

"We got him," she tells me, after she's checked in.

After we hang up, I press the phone to my forehead. The glass screen looks cold, black and vacant, but the whirring inside heats up the glass. I suppose I'm expected to go to work Monday. Funny how the world has a habit of continuing to turn.

~~~~~

I would think this chapter is just fine if it weren't for the last line. Also, I think the next chapter is sweet and cute. But actually, the next like six chapters. Actually, we've got banger after banger after banger coming up. Eek! Any specific predictions about what will happen?