Criminal Minds Series Rewrite: Season Four

Memoriam: Part One

"What was silent in the father speaks in the son, and often I found in the son the unveiled secret of the father." - Friedrich Nietzsche

There's something about this house that doesn't sit right with you. After spending one night here, you feel fear and sadness... but why? Shouldn't these kids be happy they're here and getting adopted? When you were a kid, kids came quickly and left quicker. You never got to spend time with the other kids long enough to form relationships with them. You're the only biological kid of your parents, but they've always wanted more.

Fostering seemed to bring them happiness, and you never questioned it. Now that you have had some time apart from them, you're starting to see things for what they truly are. Like, why don't you hear laughter in the hallway? Why do the kids like to cower in their rooms? Why are they quick to do their chores, but spend hours doing something that should take thirty minutes?

You get up extra early this morning in hopes you can do some digging on your own. You quickly get dressed and head downstairs, pausing in the middle of the stairs to look at the pictures on the wall.

They're all of you. When you were a baby, early toddler years, late childhood era, and well into your teenage years. Some of the younger pictures are of you running around in the backyard naked with the sprinklers on, and others are of you and your dad cuddling on the couch.

Weird how none of these pictures contain your mother.

You head to the kitchen where three kids are eating breakfast. You haven't seen your mom or dad around, so if you're going to ask questions, then now is the time. The kids don't look at you when you enter, they stiffen at your presence.

"Is everything alright?"

You get no response from them. Why are they so scared?

"What's your name?" you ask the little boy that's closest to you.

"James," he says in a quiet voice.

"His name is Joshua."

You turn to see your dad walk into the kitchen. Was he standing there listening in? It seems convenient that he would pop up right as you're asking questions.

"That's not what he says."

"Josh has a big imagination. His favorite superhero is named James, and he loves dressing up as him and pretending he is him. He gets confused a lot." You scrunch your face up in confusion, and your dad clasps his hands together eagerly. "Okay, breakfast time is over. You all have your morning chores to do."

All three kids pack up their things quickly before leaving the kitchen in a hurry. As Joshua passes by you, he mutters something that has your eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"My name is James."

"Where's mom?" you ask.

"She's getting the rest of the kids ready for their chores."

"How many kids are here?"

"About a dozen of all ages."

"You'd think you'd want to retire at your age and not take care of young children."

"I love it," he shrugs.

Your hands fall to your sides, and you feel something in your pocket. Yes, you made sure to bring it as soon as you knew you'd be visiting your parents. You take out the necklace you found in the rubble of your apartment after it was burned down. Without uttering a word, you set the necklace on the kitchen island right in his eye line. He looks at it and immediately stiffens, but he doesn't say a word.