"Elizabeth!" Bianca called down the hallway, waiting for a reply. "Ellie?" Still no response. Confused, she ventured into her daughter's room, where the lights were off. "Eliza Lou, where are you?"

"Rarr!" The small girl leapt out from behind her bed, her hands held out like claws. She had donned her Halloween costume, a bright orange tiger suit, complete with a tail and a hood with little ears. Bianca laughed, scooping Eliza up in her arms.

"There are you are, dear heart. You surprised me!"

"I'm a tiger, mama! Were you scared?" Eliza gazed up at her intently.

"I most certainly was! I was worried a tiger had gobbled you up!" Conspiratorially she leaned in to whisper in her daughter's ear. "I have an idea. Why don't we hide, and we can surprise your daddy too, hmm?" Eliza was delighted with the notion. Lights still off, they crept over to a corner of the room near the dresser, squeezing into a space behind it that was small enough only for the two of them. She reminded Elizabeth to stay quiet in the dim room while they waited for the sound of footsteps.

"Bianca?" Spencer's voice echoed from nearby. The light switch was flicked on as he stepped into the bedroom, and they could make out his mismatched socks from behind the dresser. "Eliza? Bianca?"

"Ready?" she whispered. "One, two…" He came closer to their side of the room. "Three!"

"ROAR!" Mother and daughter jumped out together and Spencer let out a shriek, stumbling backwards and nearly tripping over the bed. That sent his wife into another fit of giggles, watching her brilliant husband – the same man who had once hunted killers for a living – startle so easily.

"Don't worry, daddy, it's just me!" Eliza pulled down her little tiger hood, her hair still static-y from the fuzzy fabric.

Spencer clutched his hand to his chest. "Jeez, give an old man a heart attack, why don't you?" He sent a pointed glance in Bianca's direction, and she moved to wrap her arms around him.

"You're not an old man, my love. And I was just helping Elizabeth practice for Halloween." He was nearly forty, but he wore middle-age well, hardly any different than the day she'd met him, save for his hair. He'd grown it out and cut it to various lengths, but it was never quite as long as it had been that first year. The love he had for Halloween hadn't diminished over time, either. Presently their driveway was lined with no less than thirteen Jack-O-Lanterns.

Spencer shook his head in exasperation, but a toothy, crooked grin was on his face. "You're lucky I love you." He placed a quick kiss on her lips before turning his attention to Eliza.

"Did we scare you?" she asked, tugging on his hand. "Were you afraid?"

Spencer nodded. "You bet. I'm afraid of lots of things, you know." That was something they'd agreed upon as parents, to be as honest with her as possible, to let her know it was okay to be scared or sad or upset, and to teach her how to cope with what she felt.

"Like what?"

He reached down to scoop Eliza up in his arms. "I'm scared of the dark, for starters. And I'm afraid of elevators and of bad guys. Of something happening to you or your mom. And I have a terrible fear of running long distances."

"Don't forget spinach," Bianca teased.

"Your mother," he continued, his fingers running up and down her forearm, "is afraid of things too. She's terrified of thunderstorms."

Elizabeth laughed, a musical sound that they'd grown to adore. "I already know that." She was still young enough to be scared of the storms, waking with the sound of thunder. By the time she jumped out of bed, a stuffed owl tucked under one arm, the door of her parents' bedroom would already be open; and without fail she would find them waiting under a blanket fort on the floor with a flashlight and a stack of books, Bianca huddled particularly close to her husband while he stroked her hair and spoke quietly. When their daughter showed up, she would put on a brave face and hold her tight, the three of them riding out the thunder together with poems and children's books and stories until the storm subsided or until they were too sleepy to stay awake any longer. Those nights ended either with the two of them tucking Eliza back under the covers in her own room, or with all three curled up in the same bed.

"What else are you scared of mama?"

Bianca considered the question, wanting to give her a proper response. "I don't like cockroaches, or big spiders. I worry whenever your dad is away for work. I'm afraid of losing him, or you. Big roller coasters frighten me. I used to be scared of other things too." Her biggest fears, had been conquered seven and five years ago, respectively.

Now the young girl was more intrigued, her head tilting to the side. "How do you stop being afraid of stuff?"

The answer was as important as those of the previous questions, and she wanted to make sure Eliza understood. "You work really hard to figure out why something scares you. With time, and with the help of people who care about you, you don't feel so frightened. But it's okay to be scared of things. Being brave doesn't mean you aren't afraid of anything, it means that you do what you need to do, even if it scares you." Someday, she thought, she would turn a few Eleanor Roosevelt quotes into paper posters to hang in her daughter's room.

Intuitive as she was, Elizabeth spoke what the sort of observant candor that only children are capable of. "Does daddy help you not to be afraid of things?" Bianca laughed, and confirmed that, yes, he did. There were so many fears she'd harbored; about family, about intimacy, about being a mother; yet somehow he always seemed to help prove to her that she was capable. "But you make me feel very brave too," she added.

The child seemed satisfied with that response, and Spencer ruffled her hair. "Well then, my little tiger, if we're going to go out trick-or-treating tomorrow, you'd better get some sleep."

Tomorrow evening, the three of them were to meet with their extended BAU family – Eliza's "aunts" and "uncles" as well as her "cousins." Even Alex was returning for a visit, and Elizabeth couldn't wait to see her godmother again. Bianca kneeled down to unzip the orange onesie and pull a nightgown over her daughter's head.

"Can we read something first?" she begged. She was inquisitive and curious, a trait she'd inherited from Spencer, devouring books and stories just as quickly. Her mother prided herself on having at least bestowed an early love of poetry on her, the girl now grabbing for the Frost anthology on the small bookshelf in Eliza's bedroom. "The one with the snowy woods," she clarified.

"Only if you get in bed," her father answered. Since the birth of their daughter, Spencer had retired from the BAU to teach full-time. Every now and then he would travel to another state to guest lecture at a university, and while she knew he was safe, it still stirred up familiar feelings of worry. But having him home every night, there to help put Elizabeth to bed, to celebrate holidays, it made all the little things feel that much more special. She herself traveled from time to time, depending on where a legal case took her, but so far she'd been able to bring her family on a handful of international trips, and between herself and Spencer, they'd never had to leave their daughter alone for a night.

Eliza complied, hopping up onto her mattress and passing the book to her parents, who sat side by side on the edge of the bed, so they could hold it open for her. She read the first stanza, reciting most of it from memory, and Bianca suspected it wouldn't belong before their daughter would know several poems by heart. Spencer took the second verse, his gentle tone already calming Elizabeth, her eyelids drooping. She had her father's wavy, light brown hair and her mother's freckles and dark eyes, always wide with wonder.

Bianca ran her hand through Eliza's hair as she read the third verse to her. How had the years gone by so quickly? There was no way she could be five already. Soon enough she would be off to kindergarten, thrilled to start school. It seemed an impossible notion, but then again, it was hard to believe that she herself was thirty-five, that they'd been married for seven years, that they'd known each other for eleven. Time moved fast, waiting for no one.

"He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake."

Sure enough, she had nodded off to sleep already, her little mouth curved up in a peaceful smile. Spencer reached over to pull the blankets up over the small girl while Bianca pressed a kiss to her cheek. "Goodnight, Eliza Lou." Rarely did she stay awake through an entire poem, but they would read to her regardless, all the way to the last line. Resting her head on Spencer's shoulder, she linked her hands with his, finishing the last of the poem together as they always did.

"The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep."

Thank you for reading The Keeping of Words.

If you're ever looking for more of this story, I've published a companion piece, Cross Your Heart.