Children are the living messages we send to a time we will not see. - Neil Postman

Time passes. Not much, but it passes. If Haley's death disrupted his sleep, then this crime scene completely obliterated it. He develops insomnia so that he will not dream, because the nightmares are horrific. The images of three dead children and one, writhing on the ground, in fear of him, are too much.

The rest of the team seems to have moved on, or maybe, the more likely situation, is that Hotch doesn't want to look too closely at them. He can barely handle his own baggage from this case, so how would it be possible for him to shoulder any of theirs.

It has gotten so bad that even Jack notices. At first, Hotch tries to downplay it.

"It's nothing, buddy. Daddy's just thinking about work stuff."

"What kind of work stuff? Like catching bad guys?" Jack asks, intrigued. He glances up from his superheroes. His makeshift dishtowel cape lies against his back. He is clearly waiting for an answer.

Hotch gets down on the floor beside his son and starts to play, too. "No, not about bad guys. Something very sad happened to a little girl. We found her and she's okay now but it's still hard to think about."

Okay is a relative term. It has been a couple weeks. Amira is still in Pediatric Intensive Care, recovering from her injuries. Somehow, she survived surgery. Physically, she would make it. But emotionally? There is no way to know.

"If she's okay then why are you sad?" Jack asked, locking a bad guy safely in a Lego jail.

"I don't know," Hotch says honestly.

As if it was destined, the BAU gets another case in a suburb of Houston, Texas. This one doesn't involve children, thank God. But it is no less complex. No walk in the park. Still, they rely on each other's strengths. They work together. They bring in the unsub, and this time, all the people in harm's way make it out alive.

Before they leave to fly back to Virginia, Rossi stops them all short. "I think I'm going to take a little trip up to Texas Children's. See how our friend, Amira's doing…" he ventures.

Hotch stares, not happy at this new development. He is even less happy that everyone, even Garcia, who has come along for this case, is on board with this idea.

"I'll meet you at the airport," he says brusquely, excusing himself.

It's a full 60 seconds before Rossi is behind him. "Hotch. I would never force you into something you're not ready for but I think this is something we all need. Will you think about it?"

"Rossi, I don't have to think about it!" Hotch snaps. "All I do is think about it! I think about it and I dream about it and damn it if it isn't always Jack I see when we get to that dump site to rescue whoever's left!" He stops, steadies himself and tries to compose himself but there are tears at the back of his eyes, threatening. He is not emotional, but he feels this deeply. This case. This loss.

No one knows that he stayed for the funeral of the three siblings. No one knows that Hotch stayed long after the other mourners dispersed. He needed a moment alone, to apologize, for not getting there sooner. For not knowing. The image of the three tiny caskets is branded in his mind and thinking about them makes his throat swell closed.

Because when his ex-wife died, Jack could have been right beside her. It could have been Jack. Then he might have found his own son in a similar condition to these children. Dead, because he was not fast enough to get to them.

Rossi just stands there, looking Hotch in the eye, unashamed to bear witness to this kind of emotion. The tears that are falling despite Aaron's best efforts. He just waits. Just listens.

"Dave, I swear, I don't know what to do…I can't look at my own child without seeing those kids. Where's the justice in what we do when three kids die like this? When a whole family is slaughtered just because some criminal gets pissed off and decides to play God?"

When Rossi finally speaks, it's softly, gently. He lays a hand on Hotch's shoulder and looks him right in the eye, so that Hotch can't miss the emotion written on Rossi's face. "I think…" he muses, "that you're looking at this all wrong." He pauses. "Don't look for justice here, because justice fails us once in a while. There is nothing right about what those kids went through or what your family went through. Focus on the miracles. Against all odds, your son survived. He was in that house a long time. Plenty long enough to be discovered, but he wasn't. Something protected him. Amira was the youngest…the smallest of all those children. There's no logical reason why she stayed alive, but she is and so is Jack."

It's Hotch's turn to be silent. To just listen. So he tries. He does.

"You can't focus on the losses. I mean, grieve it. Feel it. But know that in spite of everything, you have a miracle waiting at home for you. Don't forget that."

The seven of them move quietly as they ever would on any crime scene. They have abandoned their FBI vests, their weapons - anything that might set off the metal detectors or deny them access to the patient they have come to see.

"This is cute, huh?" JJ says in a hushed voice, holding out a stuffed teddy bear. Without waiting for a response, she takes it with her as she continues to browse. Spencer is across the way eyeing balloons. Garcia is clutching the photo that she insisted on taking of them. Now she has it pressed against a wall and is scrawling their names on the back. Derek hangs back, waiting with Rossi for the actual visiting to begin. He steels himself for it. Emily is beside Hotch. Together, they study the selection of cards.

Finally, Hotch chooses one. It has a funny cartoon on it - something that will make Amira smile. After they pay for the bear, the giant red heart balloon and the card, Emily takes their collection and fishes out the card. She signs it simply.

LOVE, THE GOOD GUYS.

Then, Garcia tucks the photo inside, and at the last minute, Hotch and Rossi pull out their checkbooks. These, along with a hastily scrawled note from Hotch, are added to the envelope. Everything is sealed inside.

The PICU is silent, except for the beeping of monitors. For all the children here, there are no children's voices to be heard at all.

Aaron's breath catches as he approaches the private room where little Amira is located. There is a security guard outside her door. This has become quite the news story and gifts and cards have come in from everywhere. So, it seems, have offers to adopt the sweet little girl with no one to care for her.

They flash their credentials and are allowed inside. An exception is made, and all of them are admitted at once, rather than one at a time. Hotch is glad for this. He does not think he could handle this visit alone.

Amira lies in the bed, asleep. There is no ventilator anymore. She is able to breathe on her own.

Emily bravely approaches the bed and takes the little girl's hand in her own. The child doesn't stir. "Hey, brave girl. It's Emily. You keep getting better, okay?" she whispers. Then, she steps away, blinking back tears, and excusing herself to stand at the back of the room.

Tentatively, the rest follow suit. Spencer tells her he hopes she likes the balloon and that she keeps improving every day. JJ tucks the bear in the crook of Amira's arm and presses a kiss to her forehead, not speaking a word. Garcia is in floods of tears but manages to choke out what an awesome job Amira is doing at this whole getting better business. Rossi simply comes up and whispers reassurances so soft that no one else can hear them. Derek shocks them all when he simply sits in the chair at the bedside, bows his head and moves his lips in a silent prayer for her.

Finally, it's just Hotch. They are all still there, but he is the only one who has yet to say anything.

"Hi, Amira," he says softly, approaching the side of the bed where Derek vacated. He does not touch her, respecting her personal space, even though it's clear to him that she is on some heavy painkillers that are probably helping keep her asleep.

"My name is Aaron. I want you to know that I think about you every day, and that I'll always be here for you if you need something in the future. So will my friends. See, we're all like a big family. And now? You're a part of that family. So even if many years pass and you're all grown up but you find you need something, I want you to call me. It's all in the letter, if you ever forget. We love you, honey."

Aaron swallows convulsively. Amira is so small in the hospital bed. Her tiny body barely disturbing the blankets covering her. He takes a deep breath, and focuses on her face. On her eyes.

Then they open. They are darker than Aaron expected. For a minute, she stares at him drowsily and then reaches out to grasp his fingers. Her grip is strong.

Just like that, she lets go and her eyes fall closed. She's asleep again, but now Aaron is sure.

She heard him. She heard them all. And she will be okay.

Slowly, he turns to face his team, and sees them waiting for him.

They leave together, but their hope and their prayers remain behind, with the miracle they helped save.