"Atrin? Oh, my God, honey. What are you doing here? You said you guys weren't coming!"

"I said 'probably,' Mom. Besides, it's just me. He's, uh, he's working through the holiday, so I came."

"Over a week early?" At Atrin's quick look, Lois Borta nodded. "Okay. Oh, I'm glad you're here, though, sweetheart. Go ahead, go get settled in your room. Dinner will be done shortly."

"Thanks, Mom. Where's Daddy?"

"He ran to the corner store. I ran out of milk and bread."

"Oh."

Atrin carried her suitcase to her old room and stared around. The pale blue walls with light pink trim hadn't changed in the years she'd been gone; even the black comforter she'd used was still on the bed. The only physical difference to the rom was the bare window-sills. Her mother must have tossed the little cacti into the trash. Atrin sat on the edge of the mattress and took deep breaths. Leaving Spencer while he was still sleeping off the alcohol had hurt. She wasn't proud of it, and she knew the team - the people she'd come to love like family - would most likely never forgive her for doing it. But she'd done what she thought she needed to, even if it felt like the wrong choice.

Atrin fought the tears as she unpacked her clothes and put them away in the dresser. She was grateful that her mother hadn't asked questions That was something she wasn't sure she could handle. Having to explain what had happened would hurt far worse than bottling everything up and keeping to herself. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror that hung on the wall, cringing at the reflection. Her cheeks were flushed, blotchy; the tip of her nose competed in colour only with Rudolph the reindeer. Her eyes were rimmed in red. She sniffed back tears and pressed the palms of her hands against her closed eyelids. This wasn't how she wanted to spend Thanksgiving. Sure, being home with her family sounded nice - it had been too long since she'd just sat in the room in which she'd grown up. But it wasn't like being with Spencer.

She considered herself lucky in the fact that she'd live in the one house since before she could remember. Her parents had bought the house when she was three; it had needed renovations, as it been nearly eighty-five years old at that point, but the Bortas had loved the house and land, and felt the money spent was a worthwhile cost. Atrin had spend so much of her childhood running barefoot through the yard, playing hide-and-seek with her cousins in the cornfield that surrounded three-quarters of the property, and helping in her mom's summer gardens. During the summers, she was always outside, easily finding something to keep her entertained. Winters were cold and full of snow, but always managed to surprise her with the beauty and fun to be found. Unlike the other kids she'd gone to school with, Atrin had never wanted to move away. She loved the little town and wanted to grow old there.

Then her grandmother on her father's side had gotten sick. Atrin had already spent the last three summer vacations in Boston; she'd begged her parents to let her move in with Gram, to take care of the elderly woman. Moving away from everything she'd ever known was hard, but she never regretted her decision. Even after Gram had gotten better, before she'd died, Atrin had stayed in Boston, feeling she was right where she needed to be.

"Hey, sweetheart? Your daddy's home."

"Aright. Um, I'll be out in a second."

Atrin waited a few heartbeats before getting to her feet. She could hear the garage door rising on its track; with a smile, she hurried to the bathroom to splash cool water on her face. Her father was in the kitchen, putting away the groceries, by the time she had made herself presentable. Mark Borta smiled widely as soon as he caught sight of his daughter.

"Oh, honey girl, it's so good to have you home." He pulled her into a tight hug. "Didn't think you were coming."

"Uh, Spencer had to work through Thanksgiving, so I decided to come home instead of being alone."

"Well, I'm glad you could make it."

"Same here. How have you been, Daddy? For real. Don't lie."

"Your mom put you up to this, didn't she?"

"Of course I didn't, Mark! Your daughter is just concerned about you."

"Oh, fine. Come on, help me unload the truck, and we'll talk."

They worked in silence to pull bags of concrete mix and tools from the bed of the pickup. Atrin climbed into the back and sat on the side, watching as her father swept out the dust and trash.

"Daddy? Is everything okay?"

He sighed and leaned against the broom. "I'm fine. Just gettin' old."

"No, you're not."

"Honey girl, I'm almost fifty. I'm getting old. My body just ain't what it used to be. I'm looking for something less taxing, but it's hard to find a job like that. It's damn near impossible for a man who's got no college education and no marketable skills besides building houses, but even worse when he's nearing retirement age."

"Daddy..."

"Oh, don't. Don't go feeling sorry for me. I'll be fine. I'll find something." He glanced up at her. "You look so much like your mother."

"And you."

"But more so your mama. Let's not mention this talk to anyone. I don't want them to worry."

"What talk?"

"That's my girl. Now let's go. Dinner should be done."

He lead her into the house where the smell of pork chops, broccoli and cheese, and garlic mashed potatoes hung thick in the air. Atrin went unhesitatingly to the cupboard and pulled down plates. Her father followed behind with silverware and napkins. Once the table was set Lois carried the food dishes to the table, placing them in the middle. Atrin gazed at her parents. They'd been married for twenty-seven years; she'd always admired the fact that their marriage was steady through everything. Now, that fact made her stomach twist into knots.

Atrin pulled on her boots and jacket, stepped onto the front porch, and shut the door tightly behind her. The sky was darkening already, and the air was bitter and cold, but she took a deep breath and made her way down the driveway. Her mind travelled along Memory Lane - all the times she'd pretended to be a cowgirl riding her trusty horse to stop the robbers from making off with the loot; when she'd decided her parents' rules were unfair and running away was her best option for a better, happier life (and only made it half a mile down the road before she came running back to the house); when she would splash and stomp in the mud puddles, and slide to the ditch through the long, shallow divot in the yard, as rain would pour down... The house and property held so many memories - every one of them of a less stressful time. She smiled as she stopped at the playhouse her father built for her for her fifth birthday. The paint on the outside was faded to an ashy white, where it hadn't chipped and fallen off. Spiders' webs criss-crossed across the windows; the doorknob was rusted beyond repair.

She felt, rather than heard, her dad's approach. He walked by her side while she moved away from the small building toward the back corner of the property. He had erected a sitting post when she turned nine and wanted to be a world-famous photographer; she'd broken an arm from climbing a tall maple in order to get a shot of a bird singing on a telephone wire, and his worry of her had prodded him into making a safer alternative. The wood smelled of decay; it had been years since she'd sat in the chair and watched the world turn. She missed her childhood.

"Daddy?"

"Yes?"

"I love you. "

"I love you, too, honey girl. You're always gonna be my sweet little Pooh."

"And you're always gonna be the best daddy a girl could ever have dreamed of."

Mark smiled, draping an arm around his daughter's shoulder. "Such a beautiful, biased lie. Let's go inside. I'm getting cold."

"I'll be in soon There's one more thing I wanna see."

"Alright. Just don't stay out too long. Your mom will kill you if you get sick."

Atrin waited until he closed the door behind him before making her way to the shed. The padlock hung, unlocked, from its place on the latch. She smiled and pulled the doors open wide. The smell of lumber, sawdust, and grease teased her nose; she stepped inside, gazing around at everything that hadn't really changed in years. She knelt down and let her fingers trace the familiar handprints embedded in the concrete floor. Her mind drudged up memories of watching her dad building, fixing... She had no recollections of the tiny handprint nestled between two larger ones; all she knew was what her parents had told her: Her father had built the shed the summer after they moved in. Atrin had tried helping him, but, being a toddler, hadn't been much assistance. Her mom loved to reminisce about how Atrin's eyes had lit up when Mark told her she could press her hand into the wet concrete. She stretched her hand over the prints and laughed at the large size difference.

Atrin laid on her bed, still cold from having been outside for so long; she stared at her phone. The screen remained dark. Her heart hurt. She had started to regret leaving without at least talking to Spencer first, as soon as she'd gotten in her car. But she'd left anyway. The drive from their apartment to her childhood home in West Point, Indiana had given her plenty of reason to not worry about calls or text messages - focusing on getting home in one piece took up most of her thoughts. After arriving at the house, she'd forced herself to not think of him, instead allowing her brain to be filled with memories. Unfortunately, there was nothing to keep him from infiltrating her mind now. And the more she thought about their fight, the angrier she became. She'd done the not-so-smart thing by walking out while he slept, but he hadn't even tried to contact her. It had been twenty-four hours since they'd fought, over twelve since she'd left. She had expected at least a text message, even if it said for her to never come back. Before she lost her nerve, she typed out a message to Spencer and sent it.

I'm sorry. Maybe we should take a break?

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

"What the Hell happened? Why aren't you at home? Why'd you leave without Spencer? Why -"

"Garcia, please. Calm down. You're talking too fast, too much. I literally just woke up."

"It's too o'clock in the afternoon."

"I took a nap."

"Someone's grumpy."

"I haven't been sleeping well. So, what were your questions again? Slower this time, please."

"What the Hell happened? Spencer just... He started ignoring us out of nowhere - like, only talking to Hotch when it involved a report or information about a case, us if he absolutely had to. I went by one day after work, but he wasn't home, but his neighbour - the older lady that honestly scares the bejeebus out of me - told me she would tell him I stopped by. Then she mentioned she hadn't seen you in a couple days, but that's all she knew. Which brings me back to my original question of: 'What the Hell happened? Where have you been?"

Atrin sighed heavily. "I...decided to come home for Thanksgiving."

"But why? And why didn't Spencer come with you?"

"I don't know. It's not something I really want to talk about." When Penelope didn't speak, Atrin pressed on, "And maybe you should give Spencer his space. Pushing him is only going to piss him off. I've gotta go. I've got things to do."

She hung up before her friend could reply. She knew she'd have to deal with the fallout later, but for now, all she wanted was to sleep for the next twenty years or so. Instead, she shoved back her comforter and sat up. Her toes instinctively curled into the thick carpet; she smiled to herself as she felt the twinge of happiness she'd experienced as a child, waking up and running into the kitchen for breakfast, the soft flooring swallowing the sound of her rapid footsteps. The familiarity, and security, surrounded her like a warm cocoon. Her phone buzzed from its position on the mattress beside her.

Hey, it's Emily. I told my friend about you. Get ready. Next year is going to be crazy for you! Hope you're doing alright.

With a heavy sigh, Atrin shut her phone off, leaving it on the bed, and made her way into the living room. Her dad was working while her mother had gone to the grocery store for some last minute food items. Atrin stood in front of the open fridge, staring at the contents inside. Nothing appeared appetising enough, so she merely closed the door and walked back to her room. The silence in the house was deafening. Her mind replayed every second of the fight. She still couldn't figure out what had made her say what she had. She should've told she didn't regret their relationship - she didn't - and left it at that. Maybe then they wouldn't be in this miss. She groaned and buried her face in her pillow. As much as she missed Spencer, she wouldn't back down. He'd already proven he didn't reciprocate those feelings.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Atrin opened the front door, shivering at the cold wind that blew in along with her aunt, uncle, and cousins. After tight hugs were exchanged, she helped carry the luggage to the guest room, though Uncle Jack protested. Faith and Grace followed Atrin to her room where two air mattresses had been inflated and placed on the floor. Atrin set their bags in the closet, shutting the door. While her cousins used the bathroom, she made her way to the kitchen where her aunt and mother were laughing.

"Did I miss something?"

"Oh, no, no. Are the girls settled in?"

"Yeah, I think they're changing and freshening up, or whatever."

Her aunt embraced her tightly. "Oh, you've gotten so beautiful since the last time I saw you. How long has it been?"

"Thanks, Aunt Michelle. It's been about four years."

"I'm just so glad you didn't pick up on that God-awful Boston accent since you moved there to live with your father's mother."

"There's nothing wrong with a Boston accent, Aunt Michelle. Plus, I don't really hear it any more - I'm too used to it."

"Whatever you say, darling. Now, Lois, what's on the menu for Thanksgiving?"

Atrin rolled her eyes at her aunt's patronising tone but didn't remark. Instead, she headed to the garage only to find her father and Uncle Jack drinking beers. She accepted the bottle Jack handed her. His blue eyes held a gleam of amusement, and she could see the smile his beard was hiding.

"Michelle?"

"Michelle."

"Was it the amount of time you've been gone for?"

"No, actually; it was how happy she was I didn't pick up on a Boston accent, because it's apparently 'God-awful.'"

Jack chuckled. "Yeah, she's definitely somethin' else. But don't worry, kiddo, I'd love you even if you had the accent."

"Thanks, Jack. So why aren't Hope and Kyle here?"

"They're staying home with Kyle's family this year. Their little boy is sick, and they didn't feel like it was a good idea to travel so far with him. But they send their love."

Atrin leaned against the worktable and listened to the men talking as she sipped her beer. She was more of a whiskey-drinker - beer had always had a flat, stale taste to her - but she wasn't going to turn down spending time with family she'd not seen in years. When the topic of conversation turned to hunting, she took her leave. She hugged her uncle, dropped the now-empty bottle into the trash can, and nearly ran into Faith on her way inside.

"Oh! Sorry. I didn't realise you were there."

"Well, I'd figured not," laughed Faith, "unless you have superpowers, like X-ray vision, that none of us know about."

"No, uh, no, no superpowers. But, um... Hey, you wanna take a walk?"

Something in Atrin's expression or question must have caught Faith's attention; she nodded and followed her cousin to the front door. They pulled on their coats and shoes silently. Atrin was thankful that Faith didn't say anything as they walked outside to the furthest corner of the yard. The day was cold but calm. The sun's feeble rays gave very little warmth as they touched the earth.

"I may not have superpowers that no one knows about, but... I haven't told anybody the, uh, biggest thing in my life." Atrin sighed. "I need to tell someone before I go insane."

"So tell me."

She nodded. "Alright. So I don't know how much of my life in Boston that you know, but as far as my parents know, I' in a pretty serious relationship with a guy named Spencer. But, uh, what I've kept secret is... Well, it's not exactly a relationship. We actually got married the first time we ever met." She let out a dry laugh. "I guess I should start at the beginning. I went to Vegas for a vacation, and apparently, so did he. I don't remember how we met, but we did. Sometime during the night, we got married. It wasn't until almost two months later that we met again, and we've been dating pretty much since. We actually got into a fight before I came here, because he didn't see why I didn't want us to come. I just... I didn't want everybody to know how we'd met, and as much as he'd try, it would eventually slip out. But now I miss the Hell out of him."

Faith wrapped her coat around her tightly, crossing her arms over her chest. "Has he tried contacting you at all since the fight?"

"No. Nothing."

"Do you think he's just as confused and hurt as you are?"

"Maybe." Atrin shrugged. "But I, uh, told him the night I arrived here, after not hearing from him all day, that maybe we should take a break, and now I don't know what to do."

The women were silent as Atrin kicked a clump of frozen soil. She could see their mothers watching them from the kitchen window; she forced a smile and waved. Her cousin's brows were furrowed; Atrin chewed her lower lip, waiting for Faith to say something, anything. She couldn't help but feel that telling her cousin about Spencer - and the actual extent of his connection to her - may have been a bad idea. But she desperately needed someone to talk to, from whom she could receive advice, and Faith had always been her closest cousin. During their childhoods, they'd often spent nights at each other's houses, and they'd always shared everything from silly secrets to ice cream sundaes, from details of bad dreams to adolescent crushes. She leaned against the cold bark of a tree as a brisk wind slipped through the barren branches. Faith kept her gaze on a group of leaves as they fluttered across the ground.

"Do you think you could live without him?"

"What?" Atrin stared at her cousin, processing the words; she shook her head rapidly. "No. No, I couldn't. I mean, if I absolutely had to, it would be Hell on Earth." She paused, her eyes finding a bird that hadn't yet migrated, as it flew through the sky. "Why aren't you judging me? I know we're closer to each other than we are to Hope or Grace, but it's still unexpected that you wouldn't have a judgment about what I'd done, seeing as it's a stupid cliché thing to do. So why not?"

"Atrin, Mom and Daddy taught me that judging someone is only acceptable if you're God, a judge, or a jury. I'm none of those. You're right. You and I are really close. You're my favourite cousin. I'd much rather help you through this in any way I can, than cause you to hurt worse."

Atrin smiled and nodded. "Thank you, Faith."

"Come on, I see our moms worrying about us."

They linked arms and walked across the frozen yard to the back door. Atrin's heart felt lighter than it had in days, but she still couldn't stop the ache of missing Spencer.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

"Coming through!"

Atrin ducked as her aunt carried the platter bearing the turkey to the table. Faith and Uncle Jack followed with plates and silverware. Grace stood leaning against the wall, tapping furiously at the screen of her phone. Atrin's grandparents were helping to set the table, though Nana was complaining loudly every time Pop-Pop set a glass on the table wrong. They'd arrived earlier that morning; Pop-Pop had immediately escaped to the garage with the other men, but Nana had latched onto Atrin and Faith, saying it was "only right for two young women to help make the dinner." The house was loud and a bit cramped, but Atrin was enjoying it: It was also full of love.

Finally, everyone sat down in their seats, while Atrin's father and Pop-Pop argued over who was going to carve the turkey. Nana settled the debate by ordering her husband to listen to his son-in-law and just carve the damn turkey, already. Once everybody had piled their plates with food and said the prayer, Aunt Michelle started the "Thankful Wheel." Atrin listened as her family said what they were thankful for; when it was her turn, she smiled.

"I'm thankful for having such an amazing family to come home to."

"Hear, hear!" called Uncle Jack, nudging her with his elbow. "Now let's eat."

Conversations flared as they all started eating. She stayed quiet, taking in everyone's face as they talked She was happy with her family; they weren't exactly quiet people, but they made her life interesting.

"So, sweetheart, have you heard from Spencer? Is he going to make it today?"

"I already told you he was working, Mom," sighed Atrin after she'd finished chewing her bite of sweet potatoes.

"I was just hoping that he'd be able to make it at least today."

"Well, he's kinda out chasing bad guys, so you're pretty much shit out of luck on that one."

A gasp exploded from Aunt Michelle. "Young lady, do you really think talking to your mother like that is acceptable or in any way appropriate?"

"I'm really not in the mood to be reprimanded like a damn child."

"Oh, just leave her alone, Michelle," Pop-Pop interjected as Michelle opened her mouth to reply. "If Lois or Mark, her parents, have a problem with what she said, I'm sure they'd say something."

Jack muffled his laugh in a couch, while his wife merely scooped food into her mouth. Pop-Pop smiled at Atrin, his dark eyes twinkling. Silence fell when a knock sounded at the front door. Faith rose to her feet and went to answer it. Confusion flooded her face as whoever was outside came into her view.

"Can I help you?"

"Yeah, uh, is Atrin here?"

A sharp pain shot through her knee, and the dishes on the table clattered. She looked down to realise she had stood up without moving away from the table. She gave an apologetic smile to her family before making her way to stand beside Faith. On the doorstep, bundled in a thick woollen coat, stood Spencer. His hair was a dishevelled mess; stubble covered his jaw. She grabbed her coat, slipped her feet into her boots, and stepped outside, pulling the door shut behind her.

"What...What are you doing here?"

His lips pulled up slightly at the corners. "I had to see you. I, uh, I think we need to talk."

"I agree." She buttoned up her coat and stepped off the porch. "Look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said what I did - at least not how I said it."

"No, don't apologise." He matched her pace as they walked around the yard - close to her, not quite touching. "I've had time to think about what happened, and I understand now what you meant. It's also given me time to think about and figure out a lot of things."

"I'm glad it was beneficial to you, I guess...?"

"This break or whatever you want to call it absolutely sucked, for lack of better terms."

"Why didn't you ever contact me, then? You had every chance to call or text or email... Anything. So many different options, so many chances, and you didn't."

"So did you. You could have called any time after you sent that text, but you didn't."

"You could've fought for me. Damn it, Spencer. I've waited nine days for something from you. But all I got was fucking radio silence."

"I'm sorry! I really am so sorry."

Atrin snorted and walked faster: She knew her family would be watching. "I just... I don't know how you can be so sorry but not even try to get in touch with me."

"I tried. Dozens of times I tried. But each and every time, I convinced myself that you meant what you had said in that message, that you really wanted us to be over. I didn't want to open myself up in case what you said was true. Damn it, would you stop and look at me?" He grabbed her arm, pulling her to a halt, and turned her to face him. "I said I was sorry. I wish I could take it back, all the doubting and insecurities. I wish I could, but I can't. And I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry for the fight. I'm sorry for walking out on you. I'm so damn sorry for making you feel like I didn't love you.

"I didn't text or call, because I wanted to figure things out. I didn't want to text or call or show up, still angry, and say the wrong thing. I didn't want to potentially say something I'd regret - something that could separate us permanently. But the time I've spent thinking actually cleared my head. It made me realise that meeting you was the best thing to ever happen to me. You're the only person who's ever made me this happy. You made me realise that I'm capable of loving - and being loved in return. You gave me a future I could be happy about and really, truly want: you, me, a family, if that's what you want. You're all I really need in my life." He lowered himself to one knee, a deep blue velvet box in his slender fingers. "Atrin Leanne Borta, will you marry me - for real?"

Atrin could feel the tears freezing on her cheeks. Inside the box rested a white gold band; a diamond was nestled in the centre of the band, a smaller diamond on either side. She marvelled at the beauty of the simplicity. He cleared his throat quietly, pointedly. She bit her lip, sniffling back more tears, and nodded. He slipped the ring on her finger where her first ring had sat for so long; she laughed when he swept her in his arms, hugging her tightly and spinning her around.

"Thank you. Thank you. You have no idea how happy I am now, because of you. I love you. I love you so much."

She pulled back just far enough to see his face. His eyes were glistening with unshed tears - of joy, she hoped - and a wide smile split his face. She grinned and pressed a tender kiss to his lips.

"I love you, too. Let's go inside. I'm cold and hungry. Plus, if my poor mom cranes her neck any further to watch us, I'm afraid she might actually break it."

He clasped her hand, squeezing gently, and allowed her to lead him into the house. Her family stared without speaking, as they removed their shoes and coats. Atrin pointed Spencer to a chair that somebody had brought to the table, before taking her seat beside him. Uncle Jack coughed slightly and started talking to no one in particular. As she gazed around at those gathered, she saw some things that made her heart swell even more: Faith had engaged Spencer in conversation; nobody was dwelling on the fact he'd just shown up out of nowhere; and her dad was smiling at her. He caught her eye, winked, and nodded.

Hey, folks! Just thought I'd add this here before I publish this chapter.

A. I'm sorry it took so long. It's been kinda rough around here. Sick kids, then I got sick... Yeah, it was bad.

B. Just a heads-up. Next month, I am participating in NaNoWriMo - while this won't make me stop writing Last Name (trust me, this story isn't quite done yet...), it will cause updates to be a little slower. I'll do my best to give you guys quality chapters on a regular schedule, but I can't make any guarantees!

So, with that being said, I truly hope you enjoyed this chapter - and I can't wait to give you guys more of Spencer and Atrin's story!

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