Reid says Bastien and I look similar, but it wasn't his face, slobbery, wet, bruised, that gave him away when Rachel found him unconscious outside a bar. He wasn't all that recognizable. No, his driver's license with a last name the same as mine helped her connect the dots. Bastien's right orbital was fractured. This time, we had no choice.

I sit in the hospital waiting room, hands curled tightly around Spencer's, holding my arms in tightly to myself. He's practically dropping off into sleep. I have a migraine, and the caffeine is making me shake. Spencer pulls me in closer, pressing a kiss into my forehead.

"He's okay, Cole," he whispers. "Bash is okay."

I fold myself in half, starting to sob. His right orbital was fractured. He doesn't have a concussion that they can tell, but he's still piss drunk. Head wounds bleed more than other injuries. He's not okay. One of these days, he's going to wind up dead.

Spencer lifts me, holding me tightly against his chest. His pajamas get soaked through with my tears.

"Should I call Stéphane?"

I shake my head against him, head tightly holding. Spencer rubs my back again.

Finally, they let us see him. He's sobering up, awake. Bastien leans back when he sees me.

"Sorry, didn't get your RSVP," he cracks a smile, but then winces.

"You're quitting," I tell him, crossing my arms against my chest. "You're not working for the army anymore. And you're going to move back to New Hampshire, where Caro can keep an eye on you."

"Good morning to you too."

"You could have died," I tell him. "Do you trust me enough to make emergency medical decisions on your behalf? Because that's what happens when you get knocked unconscious in a fist fight."

Spencer reaches for my hand and squeezes it. He pulls me in closer to him.

"She's really worried, Bash," he whispers.

"You're listed as my proxy in the army," Bastien says. "Not Stéphane. So yes, I trust you to make decisions on my behalf. And the fight wasn't my fault."

"You need to leave the army," I stand my ground. "I don't know what happened to you, or what... but clearly this move to Afghanistan is going to make you crazy. So I don't care. Get dishonourably discharged if you must. You're done."

"I stopped renting out in New Hampshire," Bastien shrugs. "Waste of money, since Caro still won't talk to me."

I grit my teeth. Spencer brushes hair over my shoulder. It cascades like water, like melting ice. Cool. Calm and cool.

"Well, I'm talking to you," I tell him. I go to the side table, where they are keeping his personal items, and grab the keys off the dresser. "I'm moving you into my condo. You can sleep on my couch, or I'm sending you to rehab."

"I'm not an alcoholic."

"Well you're-" Spencer's fingers find me again as he steps closer. One hand on my shoulder. I take in a deep breath. "Well, the doctor says you're on bed rest for a few days anyway. So, you can sleep at mine while I watch over you. Unless you'd rather I call Stéphane and ask him?"

A flush of red washes into Bastien's cheeks. With nothing left to say, I take his keys and leave the room.

With our FBI clearances, it's easier to get to where Bastien's staying. It isn't barracks anyway. Reid is dead on his feet, but we grab enough clothes and toiletries to last the week and drag them back to my condo. The sun is well into the sky when we get back. Reid and I collapse on my bed, and sleep well into the next day.

Estelle is waiting for me in the kitchen when we wake up. She is still scowling, undoubtedly festering from the fight with Rachel, but that feels years behind me now. She passes me one of the three coffees on the table.

"Rachel told me what happened," her steely face softens. "I really think we should tell Stéphane."

"There is no we," I snap, taking the coffee. "But, Bastien is moving in for a few days."

"You can't expect me to hide this from your brother."

I screw up my eyebrows, "I can, and I will. He's my brother, not yours. Okay?"

"Just like this condo is yours," she snorts. "So what, you're bring in another stray?"

The coffee is too hot in my hands. I have to resist myself from throwing it. Really, I mostly don't because then I can't chastise Bastien for throwing things in my condo either.

"I hope you don't mean that."

Estelle closes her eyes. She mutters a prayer in French, "look, Cole, I don't mean that. I just... you're making all these decisions without my input-"

"About my brothers."

"About our home," she shakes her head. "It's your name on the condo, and so you get final say on the renos, and I get that. But I live here and you are unilaterally moving people in. Your content to only eat meals I cook but you won't even ask if it's okay for Bastien to stay. I never would have said no. Not even to Rachel, but you didn't even ask."

I start to leave the room. I just can't do this right now.

"Wait," she hurries after me. She holds out one of the mugs. "I made one for Spencer too."

Then, I take it. We stare at each other. I lean in and she hugs me. Two coffee mugs in my hands, one in hers, and we do our best. For the first time in a month.

"You're my best friend," she says.

"And you are mine," I sigh. "I'm sorry. I've just had a lot on my plate. Mostly your cooked meals."

She laughs. Maybe it's enough.

I bring the coffee back into my bedroom. Spencer stirs, half awake. The smell of coffee is what twists his head. I suspect. There probably isn't enough sugar in it for his liking, but I offer it to him anyway. He sits up, taking a sip, and clearly, it's not sweet enough because his face contorts.

"We need a vacation," he whispers. "Where haven't you been before?"

"I know you know," I roll my eyes. "I showed you all my patches."

"I just want to hear you talk."

I lean forward and kiss him, morning breath and coffee and salty tears and everything but it doesn't matter. I sit on the floor next to my bed, leaning up to rest my head on the mattress. He puts his coffee down and lies back onto the mattress, stroking my hair gently.

"We could go on vacation," I agree. "I've never visited South America. It's the one continent I haven't visited. We could go to Machu Picchu. I'd never need a tour guide anywhere with you. Well, unless they require Spanish. I've been told you're abysmal."

He kisses my forehead, "we could go somewhere that they speak French."

"French people have a lot of trouble with my accent," I shake my head. Then, I look up at him. "Besides, I want it to be somewhere that we both are on equal footing. So, Peru."

His work phone rings. I groan out loud, for him. So he doesn't have to get up, I grab the phone from his pocket and throw it to him. He fumbles and barely catches it. I sip my coffee as he talks on the line. Soon enough, JJ is done with him.

"Machu Picchu will have to wait, then?" I smirk.

"Child abduction. Both parents were murdered in their beds," Reid says. "A couple people are already at work, so I'm driving straight to the tarmac."

I return to the bed where he sits. I lean over, kissing his temple, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

Then, my work phone rings. I start to stand but he grabs my hands.

"Don't answer," Spencer shakes his head.

"Hotch told me he needed me for the next case," I pull away.

Spencer's hands hover over me, not touching, not pinning me down.

"What about your brother?"

Shit. I glance over at the phone. It rings again.

"Hotch will understand," he whispers.

Fuck if I'm telling Hotch. I snatch the phone and pick it up. JJ debriefs me, and I turn my back to Spencer to listen. Mostly because he looks like I just kicked him in the teeth, face falling at the sight of me. When she's done, I pull out my personal phone and text Bastien that I won't be in, but that means he can have my bed over the couch.

"Estelle will help," I swallow. Now, I feel extra awful for not consulting her. "She'll get it."

Spencer doesn't protest. Instead, he watches me get dressed. With no work clothes of his here, we have to head to his apartment first. I call Estelle while he runs up to give her the rundown.

"I've already blown off a case last time this happened, I can't do it again," it's straight up a lie, but it helps that I can't see her face when I tell it.

"You're hard to love, you know?" she sighs into the phone. "Easy to like, but loving you is hard work."

"I'll introduce you to David Rossi."

"You know I don't care about hostage negotiation."

"I'll let you get the backsplash," I tell her. "The orange one with the pattern? And I'll let help put up the herbs and plants you want."

I swear I can hear her pinch the bridge of her nose, "deal. But only for the backsplash."

We're done talking by the time Spencer is back in the car. We drive there, mostly in silence. He lives closer to me than Morgan, so hopefully it won't be weird that he's giving me a ride. God, I can't even begin to think about that yet.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" he looks over at me. "If you think it is, I won't bring it up again. But... Hotch won't bite. You can tell him what happened."

No, I can't. There's a kidnapped girl. Younger than I was, but I have to go. If just to prove that it doesn't bother me.

"Spen, I'm okay. Bastien's a big boy who can take care of himself for a week. Besides, the way I look at if, the farther away I am the better. Otherwise, I'll strangle him as soon as he recovers."

Spencer doesn't smile.

~~~~~

Oh Cole, so hard to love. What do you think happened to Bastien?