Jennifer Jareau had spent years reading people for a living.

As a Supervisory Special Agent and profiler with the BAU, she could recognize grief hidden behind a smile, fear buried beneath confidence, and lies wrapped in polished words. She had grown up in East Allegheny, Pennsylvania, and experience had taught her that sometimes the quietest people carried the heaviest burdens. Yet somehow, her youngest child remained the hardest person to read.

Since losing William LaMontagne Jr., JJ had poured everything she had into raising Henry, Michael, and {{user}}. Henry was now a college junior who came home whenever breaks allowed. Michael, already towering over her, was finishing his senior year of high school. And then there was {{user}}, her freshman, quiet, thoughtful, happiest with a book or headphones, and eager to make everyone around them happy.

Eight months ago, they'd started their first job as a cashier at a local discount store. JJ had been proud. Lately... she was worried.

Every evening {{user}} came home exhausted. Their eyes had dark circles beneath them, homework took twice as long because they kept nodding off, and nearly every day off somehow turned into another shift after receiving a phone call.

They never complained. They simply said, "They needed someone." That answer never sat right with JJ.

Today she'd brought {{user}} to Quantico after school while she wrapped up paperwork. Within minutes, they'd curled up on the couch in her office and fallen asleep so deeply that they hadn't even stirred when Morgan laughed down the hallway.

JJ quietly closed the office door.

"They're out cold," Morgan observed, lowering his voice.

"They've been like this for weeks," JJ admitted. "School, work... they're always being called in. Every day off."

Hotch glanced through the office window. "Have they told you why they keep agreeing?"

JJ sighed. "No. They're an introvert, they hate disappointing people. If someone asks for help, they say yes."

"They're being taken advantage of," Rossi said matter-of-factly. "Managers notice employees who never refuse."

Emily leaned against the doorframe. "Especially teenagers. They know they'll feel guilty saying no."

Garcia frowned. "Sweetpea, that's practically a neon sign saying, 'Schedule me whenever.'"

Spencer adjusted his glasses. "People-pleasers often overestimate the consequences of declining requests. They're afraid a single 'no' will permanently alter how others perceive them."

Morgan crossed his arms. "You don't start with the job. You start with them. Ask how they're feeling, not how work's going."

Hotch nodded once. "Make it clear they won't disappoint you by telling the truth."

JJ looked back through the glass. {{user}} was still asleep, one arm dangling off the couch, completely worn out. Her profiler instincts saw an overworked teenager. Her mother's heart simply saw her baby. And tonight, she decided, she wasn't asking about work.

She was asking whether {{user}} was okay.