At work, I'm halfway through the day, a quarter of the way through my paperwork when my voice rings. Estelle is calling.

She never calls.

"Hello?" I say into the phone.

"Bastien hit his head," her voice is winding, racing, and her rapid fire French is hard for me to parse. "An ambulance came. They're taking him to Medstar Georgetown. You have to go to the hospital."

"He hit his head?" I am up out of my chair, racing to get my coat on and hold the phone and contain myself. "What do you mean?"

"I was moping the kitchen floor, and he ran into the, I didn't know he was home, but then he slammed into the counter. Cole, there was so so much blood. And I don't I have to call Stéphane. Please, let me call him."

"Yes!" I snap. Half the bullpen spins to look at me. I lower my voice but I can feel it shaking. "Don't mention the alcohol. Or that he's been living with us. Let me handle all of that. I'm going to go to the hospital now. Was Bastien conscious?"

"Well, he was but then he passed out."

Shit. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"I'll call you with an update," my knees feel weak. I fumble to put the phone in my pocket.

My moron brother. I'm going to staple his head together just so that I can kill him personally. Then, I'll become Dr. Frankenstein so I can bring him back, just to kill him a second time.

Oh my God.

"Do you need a ride?" Prentiss asks.

Desperately, but her eyes are dripping with concern and she speaks French. I can't talk about what's happening in the car. She has a better idea than anyone else.

"I'll call a cab."

"Bouchard," Morgan stands up.

The whole team is standing around me. Spencer is too, across from me. He can't say more than hello and good-bye with proper French pronunciation. He knows me though. He knows me better than anyone else in this bullpen, and I can't talk about it. And he'll ask, just like he asked about Karien.

"Fine," I decide. "Morgan, can you take me to Georgetown's University Hospital?"

He grabs his keys and jacket and he's jogging to the elevator without even saying yes. I spare Spencer a final glance. All the colour has drained from his face. I can't let myself spare him a thought.

Morgan is quiet during the carried. Maybe he's only intolerable under most circumstances. He's not pestering me, or even asking who I need to meet at the hospital. Prentiss probably has some idea, the closest out of everyone in the bullpen. Well, other than Spencer, who's already accompanied me to the hospital a few times. Still, I wish she didn't speak French. At least Morgan doesn't. At least he's speeding on the way there, so focused on the road he cant' look at me.

Finally, Morgan parks the car, "I'm coming in with you."

"It's fine," I insist.

My hands are shaking though.

"Bouchard, I don't know what happened, but I'm not sending you up there alone."

My phone starts to ring. It's not worth a fight. We get out of the car. The phone number isn't saved in my contacts. It's not Stéphane, or Estelle. Or even Spencer.

"Hello?"

"Hi, is this Colette Bouchard?" a voice asks in English.

"Yes."

"Hi, this is a call from Medstar Georgetown University Hospital. We have someone here who has you listed as next of kin. Are you able to come to the hospital?"

"I'm already in the parking lot," I say. "I'll be there in a second."

They wouldn't say his name or condition, so I can't imagine he's conscious. They won't give details without express permission. They're calling me instead of him, so likely he can't call me. Before they say anything, they'll have to verify my identity. I remember all these difficulties when my father first got sick. I was his next of kin too, not Stéphane. I wasn't even eighteen yet, but he had no one else to list. Likely, I'm all my siblings; maybe even Caro has me listed as next of kin.

We get to the emergency ward. Morgan and I push through faster by flashing out FBI badges. I still have to go up to three different counters and say his name. Over and over. Looking for Sébastien Bouchard. Morgan knows now it's my brother who hit his head. I don't even care. Although maybe I do, if I'm thinking about it. If I'm able to think about anything other than my brother.

I can't think about Bastien.

Finally, we get to his room. At least, where his room is supposed to be. No one is here.

Oh my God.

I can feel my breath climbing. Morgan puts an arm around my shoulders. I form a fist, press my knuckles against my ribcage just below my collarbone, and I push down. They teach you this in first aid, a technique to wake the unconscious. The world feels foggy.

"Who are you looking for?" a nearby nurse steps over.

"Sebastian Bouchard," Morgan says his name wrong. Bastien would hate it.

"He got moved," he says.

The nurse guides us just around the corridor. The new room is completely dark, not shared or sectioned off with curtains.

"Hey," Bastien's voice croaks. I can't see him it's so dark.

I step inside, Morgan's arm finally slipping off my shoulder. Bastien lies flush with the bed. His head is wrapped up.

"I broke a few toes," he says. "I saw them and fainted. They looked bad."

"Why is it dark?"

"When I fainted I got a concussion," he chuckles and then winces. "Couldn't stave it off forever, I guess."

I take in a deep breath.

"We're keeping him conscious," the nurse says from the corridor. "We're going to monitor for any brain bleeds."

"How's his orbital fracture?"

"Healed," Bastien says, then, he groans. "Please don't make a big deal out of this."

"Oh, Estelle called Stéphane," I say.

He groans again, more forcefully.

"Let me get you a coffee," Morgan offers. He slips from the room.

I find a seat next to Bastien's bed. My phone is buzzing, and I glance at it only to see that it's Spencer calling. I don't take it, just mute the call. I'm sure the sound isn't doing him well if we are sitting in a dark room. Somehow, this time, it wasn't Bastien's fault. It would be easier if it was. A slippery floor was enough to do this to him. My accident-prone brother. You'd think it would be the firefighter who likes to rock climb who gets into more trouble, but you'd be wrong.

"Are you feeling okay?" I ask.

He nods slightly, shifting his neck, "they thought I had a spinal injury at first. But I said I could feel most of my toes."

I scrunch my nose from the smell of his breath. Alcohol, "you're not funny."

A minute after Morgan comes back with the coffee they take him out for a CT scan. They say he'll be gone half an hour. Morgan and I sit in silence next to each other. He pats my shoulder twice, which is better than speaking certainly. It's more acceptable.

I didn't think I'd be back here so soon. This is not as bad as the orbital though.

"He seems like a lucky kid," Morgan says.

I shrug, "he's a shithead."

My phone rings again. This time it is Stéphane. I answer the phone.

"He's fine," I say.

Through the phone, he answers "oh, thank God."

"He broke his toes, and the sight made him pass out," I switch to French. "They are taking him in for a CT scan. It's probably a mild concussion."

"Okay," he says. "But he's alright? I'm about to call Caro."

"Yeah, I promise," I sigh. "Let Caro know. We'll probably have to shift back our Easter plans."

There's a knock on the door. I look over, and Spencer is standing in the doorway. I quickly tell Stéphane I'll call him back and hang up.

"Hotch wants you for a consult," Spencer says to Morgan. "We're switching."

Morgan nods. He pats me on the back one final time before he gets up and leaves the room.

"What are you doing here?" I hiss.

Spencer looks around, "what happened?"

I fill him in as quickly as I can. Already, the story feels easy in my mouth. All the words go in the same order and then I'm done.

"I'm glad he's okay," Spencer says.

He sits down next to me. I lean my head on his shoulder and I feel him relax beneath me. His heart thumps in his chest. One and two. One and two. One and two. I like the rhythm of his body. The staccato way he dances, the legato movements of his legs when he walks. The way his eyes hold on me like a fermata.

I took music classes with Stéphane. The theory made more sense to me than the practice. It informed the rest of my life; it's probably why I'm still not a fan of fieldwork.

"Why did you come?"

"Hotch really needed Morgan," he says. "When you left, the others started to talk to Emily and then Hotch, but I stayed and did as much paperwork as possible. I was the one with the least work left, so I got sent to make sure you were okay. The team didn't want to leave you alone."

I put my hand on his shoulder, "thank you."

"Is there anyone I can call? Like Rachel or Estelle?"

I sigh. I don't want to repeat myself again. So, I hand him my phone, "can you call Estelle? Let her know what I told you?"

He leans over and kisses my forehead. Then, he walks out of the room. I fold my legs up and listen to the sounds of the hospital. There are too many voices, too many things beeping. Lots of footsteps too. I don't have headphones to block out the noise.

They wheel Bastien back in the room. He blinks and looks at me.

"Why'd you call him in?" Bastien says. "I'm not in the mood to let out a fake apology."

"What?" I ask, looking out into the hallway. It's bright out there. The light hurts my eyes. I can only see Spencer's shadow in the corridor.

"Never mind."

"No, tell me," I say. "Or I'm going to tell Stéphane that he needs to come up and take care of you instead of me."

Bastien screws up his nose, "you're a bitch."

"You've been drinking," I say. "Again. And you fell."

"I had a beer with lunch."

"It was eleven thirty," I say.

"It was an early lunch," he huffs.

"Tell me and I'll drop it, Séb."

"Fine," Bastien crosses his arms. "I told him if you ever came home again crying from a date, I'd kill him."

My heart stops. Two things occur to me simultaneously.

The first, my brother threatened the life of a federal officer. Par for the course with Bastien, but he's red in the face now, even just from thinking about Spencer. Who is here again, mind you, still on the phone with Estelle.

"When did you call him?" I ask. "Was it the next day?"

Bastien sighs, "that night."

The second thing I realize is worse. I told Spencer at work later that I went home because Bastien and Estelle were fighting. And now I know that when I lied to him, he knew I was lying.

~~~~~

More drama, of course. Cole's lies are piling up once again!

Also, I'm going to slow down my updates because I want to stay consistent, and I haven't had time to work a lot on the third and final book. I haven't even properly plotted it out, and I'm trying to avoid a hiatus between books, so this will move to once a week for now!