Second Childhood
Part 10
15-17 October 2011
When they got home, Hotch sent Spencer into the bathroom while he greeted Jack. Spencer leaned miserably against the toilet, not sure if he were going to throw up again. Eventually, Hotch came in and placed a little bundle of clothing on the side of the sink, then helped Spencer undress. Then he wet a washcloth and cleaned Spencer’s face and neck and hands before helping him put on his pyjamas.
“You’ve got a fever. Come on, let’s get you into bed, and I’ll give you some ibuprofen.”
Spencer moved slowly and miserably to Jack’s bed and got in. Hotch gave him some children’s liquid ibuprofen and had him wash it down with a few swallows of water.
“I’m just putting this here,” Hotch said, setting the glass on the nightsttand. “And I’ll be right back with a bucket in case you have to throw up again.”
“Uh huh,” Spencer said, and laid his aching head on the cool pillow. He woke up once in the night to throw up, but Hotch was there, giving him more medicine and water, and cleaning everything up. Then it was morning, and Hotch was there again. After he’d given Spencer another dose of medicine, he said, “Can I leave you alone for a few minutes while I take Jack to school?”
“Yeah,” he mumbled.
“Don’t get out of bed for anything except going to the bathroom, all right?”
“Uh huh.”
Hotch went out, and Spencer shut his eyes, but couldn’t fall asleep again immediately. Jack had come in quickly and given Spencer one of his stuffed animals, and now he pulled it to his chest, burying his chin in the soft fur. He didn’t even feel well enough to read, so he just lay there, thinking disjointed thoughts until Hotch came back.
“Okay, buddy?” Hotch asked.
“’M going to the bathroom now,” Spencer murmured.
“You could have gone while I was out.”
“Didn’t have to go then.”
When Spencer came back, Hotch was talking on his phone, but Spencer didn’t bother to listen, just shuffled back into the bedroom and got back into bed. Hotch hung up after a few minutes, then came in.
“I thought I’d better inform SHIELD, in case this has something to do with your de-aging. Dr Kapoor finally called me back and said he’s going to come over and have a look at you. But I also spoke to Johnson and she said she’s sick, too, so it could just be something that you two picked up in Nebraska.”
Spencer felt like he should say something, but the only thing he could think of was, “Uh.”
“Do you want a book?”
“Huh unh.”
“Have another drink, and then see if you can sleep.”
Obediently, Spencer took a swallow, then cuddled up again with the teddy bear and closed his eyes. The morning passed, and he dozed on and off, trying to remember to sip a little water whenever he was awake. Every so often, he could hear Hotch talking quietly on his phone in the living room. And then the doorbell rang, and Dr Kapoor and another agent from SHIELD came into the bedroom.
“Sakenfeld’s being remarkably uncooperative, especially considering he’s avoided going to prison so far, and is allowed to work on his own rogue project again. But he just wants to sit there sulking all day,” Dr Kapoor was saying. “So the re-aging project is still in the construction phase and it’s going to take a while before we can even start tests, let alone get Dr Reid back to normal.”
“Thank you for the update,” Hotch said.
“And speaking of getting you back to normal, Dr Reid, can you describe your symptoms?” Dr Kapoor put his bag on the bed next to Spencer’s leg and opened it up, then pulled out a thermometer.
“Fever, vomiting, aches and pains, general malaise,” Spencer muttered as the doctor poked the thermometer into his ear.
“Yup.” Dr Kapoor checked the temperature, then put the thermometer away. After listening to Spencer’s heart and lungs and measuring his blood pressure, he got out a small kit and announced, “I don’t think this is related to the de-aging. It’s probably a virus, but I’m just going to take a blood sample and run it right over to the lab just to be sure.”
“What lab?” Spencer asked, wondering vaguely how he’d missed Hotch living next to a laboratory all this time.
“The rolling lab we brought with us,” Dr Kapoor replied. “You can look out the window if you want to see it, but from the outside, it’s disguised as a regular camper van. Sometimes it’s safer to travel incognito.”
He inserted the needle into the crook of Spencer’s elbow, and Spencer gritted his teeth not to cry out as the blood flowed up the syringe. The doctor removed the needle and stuck a bandaid over the spot, then secured the syringe back in the kit. “I’ll be right back.”
Spencer took another drink of water and promptly threw up again, retching unhappily over the bucket until he suddenly had to run to the bathroom as well. When Dr Kapoor returned, he confirmed Spencer’s own diagnosis. “Rotavirus. Completely ordinary, nothing to worry about. Lots of rest and liquids, and wash your hands like you’ve got OCD. But if either of you notice anything else, anything weird, I mean, don’t hesitate to call. Oh, but if you want to get through to me directly, you now have to give the password.”
“Password?” Hotch asked.
“Ever since word got out about the de-aging, we’ve had everybody in SHIELD and half the FBI asking about it. You would not believe how many people want to jump into that machine,” the doctor said. “My soon-to-be ex-wife even offered all our money and our house to my boss for the chance to be twenty nine again. If everybody did that, I’d be willing to bet we could more than double our research budget, but the pencil-pushing higher-ups said no. Not even a ‘not yet,’ just a plain no.”
“I should think that liability played a large role in that decision,” Hotch said.
“Yeah, but what I could do with a bigger budget.” Dr Kapoor looked dreamy for a moment, the brought himself back to the present. “Sorry, you were asking about the password to get through to me. Just call up SHIELD like you did to-day, say the project name, Project Mustardseed, and the word is ‘pointillism.’”
“Pointillism?” Hotch queried.
“I didn’t pick it,” Dr Kapoor defended himself. “And whoever did probably just opened a dictionary and grabbed the first word they saw that wouldn’t come up in ordinary conversation.”
“Unless you’re an artist,” Spencer murmured, but he didn’t feel up to defining the term. If Hotch were interested, he could look it up himself.
“And now, sir, may I ask you both to sign these non-disclosure agreements,” the other agent said. “If you so much as even mention the existence of the project name or the password, let alone betray it to anybody outside this room, or the SHIELD contact number, SHIELD can and will take you into custody before prosecution, and the penalty will be severe.”
“We should have done this before, while you were at our research facility, but I guess those of us who knew what was going on were just too excited about the discovery to think of it. I know I was.” Dr Kapoor smiled briefly. “And of course, SHIELD’s delightful powers-that-be didn’t realize what we had until it was way too late. But if you both work for the FBI, I guess you’re intimately acquainted with how bureaucracy works, aren’t you?”
He didn’t wait for Hotch or Spencer to agree, simply went on. “Now we’re researching as fast as our little electron microscopes can go, while they’re spreading disinformation about aliens and trying to gag everybody who knows the truth.”
“What about the people we’ve already spoken to?” Hotch asked. “I did have to inform my superiors about Dr Reid’s condition.”
Not to mention that the team also knew, and Will, too, along with the two policemen that had been with them, and Hotch and Spencer had talked to Ally, and Hotch had also said a few words to Lars Henriksen. Spencer felt a flash of concern for Henriksen’s chickenpox-afflicted daughter.
“As long as you didn’t mention the project name or the password, and never do, they’ll be fine, and you’ll remain at liberty,” the other agent said. “Sign here, Agent Hotchner.”
He held up a clipboard and indicated a space on the paper it held. Hotch took the board and read through the document, taking his time, then borrowed the agent’s pen and finally signed. The agent shuffled the papers, clipped them back into place, and offered the board to Spencer. “Dr Reid.”
Spencer went through the text as well, but the agent was right, there wasn’t any mention of penalties for simply talking about the de-aging process; it was all about the password and the project name. He was reminded of the old saying of shutting the barn door weeks or even months after the horse had gone, but he just couldn’t muster enough energy to care what SHIELD did, or when. With a shaking hand, he signed his name, then laid down in the bed again and closed his eyes.
+++++
21 October 2011
It took a few days before Spencer was well enough to go to work again. Neither Hotch nor Jack had come down with the rotavirus, and JJ’s car had also been repaired in the meantime, so the only problem was Spencer’s lack of jacket, which neither of them realized until they were ready to go out the door. Hotch suggested that Spencer wear his official FBI jacket, even though it was much too big, but it was the only alternative they had.
“You look like you’re wearing a cloak, just like on Sword-Swinging Cats when they go out in the rain!” Jack said when he saw him. “Except their cloaks don’t have letters on the back.”
“Well, I’m not a Sword-Swinging Cat,” Spencer replied. “So I get letters.”
It was also raining when they went out, and Spencer flipped the hood up, but it came down to his chin in front. He stopped, wanting to fold it back so he could see, but Hotch urged him along, so he pushed it back down again. By the time they got in the car, his hair was very wet, and it got even more wet on the way from the car to the BAU.
At least JJ was in the bullpen when they arrived. Spencer took a step in her direction, wanting to ask about his jacket, but then he remembered Henry, and felt almost sick all over again. How bad was Henry hurt, anyway, and was she still going to blame him? Had she let herself calm down over the past few days so that she could see reason again? Or was she going to hold a grudge against him for hurting her, even indirectly?
For the first time, Spencer realized what it must have been like for JJ to have to deal with him after the revelation of Emily actually being alive. He didn’t think JJ had thrown up because of that gut-wrenching feeling of guilt, and ninety-five percent of the reason he himself had done so was due to the rotavirus, but the other five percent, that was all him. Still, it must have been torment for her to have lived so long with that feeling, to be reminded of it every time she’d looked at him, just as he felt bad now simply from seeing her.
“JJ,” he said hesitantly. “I’m really sorry about Henry. How is he, is he going to be okay?”
JJ looked almost as wary about talking to him as he felt about her, but she said, “He’ll be fine in a few weeks. The doctor said it was a greenstick fracture, and he’s got a cast, but it should heal without complications.”
“That’s good,” Spencer said. “I apologize. I didn’t push him, but I shouted at him and chased him down the stairs, and I’m so, so sorry.”
“Thank you, Spencer,” JJ said. She sounded more formal than friendly. Spencer wondered if she’d been afraid that he’d lash out at her again, the way he’d feared she’d lash out at him. But she hadn’t, perhaps because a few days had gone by since the injury and her pain and anger had faded. He checked his own negative feelings, and found that they had receded as well. They weren’t completely gone, but they definitely weren’t as strong anymore. He’d been so focused on other things that he hadn’t had any time or energy to think much lately about feeling hurt and betrayed. His good experiences with Hotch had definitely helped his attitude, and though he hadn’t had much interaction with Emily aside from work, that had all been positive as well. Maybe, he considered, he could get over the whole thing sooner rather than later. Maybe it was time to give JJ a chance.
He realized there’d been an awkward silence while he’d stood there thinking, and that JJ was staring curiously at him, wondering what else he might want, or perhaps worrying what else he might say. Taking a deep breath for courage, Spencer said, “JJ, uh, I accept your apology for lying to me about what happened with Emily, and I’m willing to try to trust you again.”
JJ’s face turned utterly radiant at his words and she exclaimed, “Thank you, Spence! Oh, I’m so happy. Can I give you a hug?”
Feeling the tension between them dissipate almost instantly, Spencer smiled, too, and held out his arms. JJ picked him up and gave him a happy squeeze, whirling him around at the same time. “I was afraid you’d never forgive me, and I felt so bad, you have no idea.”
“Actually, I do,” he replied, hugging her back. It was almost like hugging his mother, except JJ wasn’t as tall. And it was strange, he thought, how much relief came from forgiving, as much as from being forgiven. Strange, but strange in a good way.
“I’m sorry I thought you pushed Henry,” JJ went on, putting him down again. “I should have known you’d never do anything to hurt him – but I guess I was so shocked by him being hurt, combined with your attitude towards me this past month. It’s just a reason, not an excuse, though. I’m really sorry I was so harsh.”
“That’s all right, JJ,” Spencer said. “I’m sure it looked pretty bad from your point of view. Actually, many of the truths we cling to depend greatly on our own point of view.”
“That sounds like a quote from a film,” JJ said, grinning as she reached out to ruffle his hair, but before Spencer could identify which one, she suddenly exclaimed, “Why’s your hair all wet, Spence? Didn’t you wear a coat to-day?”
“I left my jacket at your house on Monday, so I put on my FBI jacket, but the hood covered my entire face,” he explained. “I thought it was better if I got wet than if I got run over in the parking lot because I couldn’t see where I was going.”
“You left your jacket at our house? I didn’t see it, Spencer, or I would have brought it over.”
“I left it in the bathroom upstairs.” He’d completely forgotten the thing when he’d run out in panic.
“Maybe Will found it. I’ll call him.” She reached for her phone, and Spencer caught sight of Ally out of the corner of his eye. He went over to her.
“Hi, how are you feeling?”
“Ten pounds lighter, and good to go,” she replied. “You?”
“Much better, thanks, but Hotch and I are going to leave early to-day to pick up my new glasses, so I won’t need an afternoon break.”
“Well, damn. After spending all week at home, I was really looking forward to a nice long day at the office.” She almost smiled, which made Spencer feel bad for what he was about to say next.
“By the way, Hotch and I talked to that doctor from SHIELD while I was sick, but they’re not letting anybody else go through the de-aging machine.”
“Oh.” Ally hid her emotions behind a blank face. “Thank you for trying.”
“I’m really sorry about your brother.”
“Thank you.”
JJ came over. “Ally. I heard you were sick, too. Are you feeling better?”
“I wouldn’t be here if I weren’t,” Ally replied.
“Spence, I talked to Will and he said he hung your jacket up next to Henry’s, and I guess we both just forgot about it. I’m sorry. How about we bring it over to-night?”
“That would be good, thanks.” Spencer turned to Ally. “I left my jacket at JJ’s on Monday, so I guess we can’t go outside to-day for my breaks.”
“I was going to ask Hotch to get you some boots and an umbrella for rainy days,” Ally said, “but you can practice jumping rope in the stairwell, and we can do some stair laps, too.” She paused, then added, “Three or four flights, not all six.”
She walked away towards her desk, and JJ said, “Ooh, stair laps, that’ll build your leg muscles and define your gluteus maximus.”
“My body is four years old, and I don’t need my glutei maximi defined,” Spencer announced, then explained, “I’m using the plural form, because everybody in the world has two buttocks, not just one, and it’s simply illogical to talk about defining a singular gluteus maximus.”
“Okay.” JJ laughed, but then suddenly she said, “Hey, it’s your birthday soon, isn’t it?”
“Next Friday.”
“What kind of present can we get you?” Still in a teasing mood, she suggested, “Legos?”
Spencer gave her a mock glare and walked away to his desk. “Actually, I just want to work.”
+++++
24 - 28 October 2011
The weekend passed without incident, but on Monday, they flew to Oregon to investigate a serial killer whose dumping grounds had been found in the woods. Their hotel had a swimming pool along with an indoor gym which included a treadmill and yoga mats, and Ally had brought along an outdoor tablecloth with a hopscotch pattern drawn on the back. During Spencer’s break, she laid the cloth down on one of the yoga mats, and told Spencer to do the hopping first on his right leg and then on his left. He wasn’t very good at hopping solely on his left leg, and sometimes lost his balance when he leaned over to pick up the jar lid they were using as a marker. But Ally kept encouraging him to try. He also practiced jumping rope, and tried to skip occasionally, too, which was still not successful.
After making sure he now had a swimming suit, Ally also introduced a new game she called Ping Pong Pals in the Pool. She had bought some ping pong balls in different colours and had drawn faces on them, to be the pals. Then she threw them into the water, scattering them around the shallow end of the pool, and Spencer had to swim around and gather them all up. His swimming was acceptable – he got from pal A to pal B and back to Ally again – but he could tell his arms and legs weren’t completely coordinated. Still, it was fun.
Ally also made him crabwalk up and down the corridor outside their room, and Spencer was doing exactly that after lunch on Thursday when he became aware of two people coming towards him. He lifted his head and recognized Emily on crutches, her right ankle in a boot-like splint, and Rossi at her side.
“What happened?” Spencer asked, getting to his feet.
“I was chasing after the Unsub and stepped in a rabbit hole or something,” Emily said. “Dislocated my ankle and sprained it pretty badly, too.”
“You’re lucky you didn’t break anything,” Spencer said.
“Yeah, that’s what they told me at the hospital.” Emily stopped at her door. “I’ll still be limited for a while, though. So on our next case, you and Garcia can just scoot over and make room for me in the Batcave, too.”
“Did you at least get the Unsub?” Ally asked.
“Not me, obviously, but Hotch and Morgan did. We’ll be home in time for your birthday, Reid.”
Ally looked curiously at him. “When’s your birthday?”
“To-morrow,” he said. “But you don’t have to get me anything.”
“Wait, so you don’t want that monogrammed jump rope I just bought?” she asked. Rossi and Emily both laughed, but Spencer actually wondered for a moment if she were serious.
“You guys better get packed up, we’ll be heading to the airport soon,” Rossi said. He opened the door to Emily’s room and held it as she limped in.
“So, are you doing anything for your birthday?” Ally asked as they went into their own room.
“No,” Spencer said. “I mean, I never plan anything because we never know when we’ll have to travel. If we’re in the office, sometimes Garcia brings cupcakes.” Spencer pulled his go-bag out of the closet and unzipped the opening. “I usually just buy myself a book or two.”
“Yeah, I don’t really celebrate my birthday, either. But if I’ve got a free weekend in July, I’ll buy a cake and some ice cream and invite my brothers and their families to a picnic in the park.”
“You have other brothers besides Gabriel?”
“One other.” She did not elaborate. ”Don’t forget your toothbrush.”
They got to the plane first. Emily came on board last, heading for the couch where she could put her leg up. As Spencer watched her maneuver her crutches down the narrow aisle, he was reminded of how it had been when he’d been shot in the leg and had managed to finagle his way on board for one mission before Hotch had found out about his “second opinion” and had grounded him. Working with Garcia in Quantico hadn’t been all bad, but of course he’d felt relieved when he was allowed to fly again.
Shortly after they’d taken off, Hotch got a phone call, then came back and stood in the aisle next to Spencer’s seat.
“I just spoke to Jessica,” he said. “Jack’s come down with chickenpox. It seems to be going around his school.”
“Oh, no,” Spencer said. “Have you had chickenpox, Hotch? Because he’ll be contagious for at least five days and up to seven.”
“I’ve had it, yes. But I know you haven’t. Do you want come home with me and run the risk, or would you rather go stay with another member of the team?”
“I really don’t want to get chickenpox,” Spencer said. “Can’t Jack go stay with Jessica?”
“No, our arrangement when Jack is sick is that she comes over during the day, and I leave a little early whenever possible so that I can take care of Jack at night,” Hotch explained.
Spencer frowned. It had been bad enough staying home with the rotavirus, especially when he’d been just well enough to be bored in between naps, but still too sick to work. But then he considered who else he could stay with. Morgan and Rossi both had dogs, and though Garcia was nice, he didn’t want to live with Kevin, and now that Emily was on crutches, that would be awkward. The only person left was JJ, and as though hearing his thoughts, she leaned out into the aisle to catch his eye.
“You could stay with us, Spence,” she invited.
He’d promised he’d try to start trusting her again, and he knew this would be the perfect opportunity, but he still hesitated. “What if Henry only remembers me as the boy who chased him down the stairs so that he broke his arm?”
“Kids forgive and forget so easily at that age. If he mentions it, just apologise, and you should be fine. Plus you know how much he adores Uncle Spencer.”
“Yes, but I’m not Uncle Spencer anymore. I don’t have the fine motor control to do any of my magic tricks anymore.” On occasion, he tried to walk a coin across his knuckles, but was having less success with it than with skipping. “And what about Will?”
“I’m sure Will won’t mind at all, but I can call him if it will make you feel better.”
Spencer remembered Will’s stare, and his questioning glances. “Yeah, it would make me feel better. And if he’s not really happy with the idea, then I could ask Emily. I could volunteer to be her legs.”
“I think she’s staying at Rossi’s for a few days. I’ll ask Will.” JJ pulled out her phone immediately and left a message for her partner to call her back. Shortly before landing, when Spencer was starting to nod off, she came back to him and announced, “I just spoke to Will and he says, the more the merrier.”
Spencer blinked tiredly up at her, taking a moment to remember what she was talking about. “Oh. Yeah, okay, thanks.”
“So I’ll get the car seat from Hotch and you can ride home with me.”
Part 11
Part 9
Return to Criminal Minds Page
When they got home, Hotch sent Spencer into the bathroom while he greeted Jack. Spencer leaned miserably against the toilet, not sure if he were going to throw up again. Eventually, Hotch came in and placed a little bundle of clothing on the side of the sink, then helped Spencer undress. Then he wet a washcloth and cleaned Spencer’s face and neck and hands before helping him put on his pyjamas.
“You’ve got a fever. Come on, let’s get you into bed, and I’ll give you some ibuprofen.”
Spencer moved slowly and miserably to Jack’s bed and got in. Hotch gave him some children’s liquid ibuprofen and had him wash it down with a few swallows of water.
“I’m just putting this here,” Hotch said, setting the glass on the nightsttand. “And I’ll be right back with a bucket in case you have to throw up again.”
“Uh huh,” Spencer said, and laid his aching head on the cool pillow. He woke up once in the night to throw up, but Hotch was there, giving him more medicine and water, and cleaning everything up. Then it was morning, and Hotch was there again. After he’d given Spencer another dose of medicine, he said, “Can I leave you alone for a few minutes while I take Jack to school?”
“Yeah,” he mumbled.
“Don’t get out of bed for anything except going to the bathroom, all right?”
“Uh huh.”
Hotch went out, and Spencer shut his eyes, but couldn’t fall asleep again immediately. Jack had come in quickly and given Spencer one of his stuffed animals, and now he pulled it to his chest, burying his chin in the soft fur. He didn’t even feel well enough to read, so he just lay there, thinking disjointed thoughts until Hotch came back.
“Okay, buddy?” Hotch asked.
“’M going to the bathroom now,” Spencer murmured.
“You could have gone while I was out.”
“Didn’t have to go then.”
When Spencer came back, Hotch was talking on his phone, but Spencer didn’t bother to listen, just shuffled back into the bedroom and got back into bed. Hotch hung up after a few minutes, then came in.
“I thought I’d better inform SHIELD, in case this has something to do with your de-aging. Dr Kapoor finally called me back and said he’s going to come over and have a look at you. But I also spoke to Johnson and she said she’s sick, too, so it could just be something that you two picked up in Nebraska.”
Spencer felt like he should say something, but the only thing he could think of was, “Uh.”
“Do you want a book?”
“Huh unh.”
“Have another drink, and then see if you can sleep.”
Obediently, Spencer took a swallow, then cuddled up again with the teddy bear and closed his eyes. The morning passed, and he dozed on and off, trying to remember to sip a little water whenever he was awake. Every so often, he could hear Hotch talking quietly on his phone in the living room. And then the doorbell rang, and Dr Kapoor and another agent from SHIELD came into the bedroom.
“Sakenfeld’s being remarkably uncooperative, especially considering he’s avoided going to prison so far, and is allowed to work on his own rogue project again. But he just wants to sit there sulking all day,” Dr Kapoor was saying. “So the re-aging project is still in the construction phase and it’s going to take a while before we can even start tests, let alone get Dr Reid back to normal.”
“Thank you for the update,” Hotch said.
“And speaking of getting you back to normal, Dr Reid, can you describe your symptoms?” Dr Kapoor put his bag on the bed next to Spencer’s leg and opened it up, then pulled out a thermometer.
“Fever, vomiting, aches and pains, general malaise,” Spencer muttered as the doctor poked the thermometer into his ear.
“Yup.” Dr Kapoor checked the temperature, then put the thermometer away. After listening to Spencer’s heart and lungs and measuring his blood pressure, he got out a small kit and announced, “I don’t think this is related to the de-aging. It’s probably a virus, but I’m just going to take a blood sample and run it right over to the lab just to be sure.”
“What lab?” Spencer asked, wondering vaguely how he’d missed Hotch living next to a laboratory all this time.
“The rolling lab we brought with us,” Dr Kapoor replied. “You can look out the window if you want to see it, but from the outside, it’s disguised as a regular camper van. Sometimes it’s safer to travel incognito.”
He inserted the needle into the crook of Spencer’s elbow, and Spencer gritted his teeth not to cry out as the blood flowed up the syringe. The doctor removed the needle and stuck a bandaid over the spot, then secured the syringe back in the kit. “I’ll be right back.”
Spencer took another drink of water and promptly threw up again, retching unhappily over the bucket until he suddenly had to run to the bathroom as well. When Dr Kapoor returned, he confirmed Spencer’s own diagnosis. “Rotavirus. Completely ordinary, nothing to worry about. Lots of rest and liquids, and wash your hands like you’ve got OCD. But if either of you notice anything else, anything weird, I mean, don’t hesitate to call. Oh, but if you want to get through to me directly, you now have to give the password.”
“Password?” Hotch asked.
“Ever since word got out about the de-aging, we’ve had everybody in SHIELD and half the FBI asking about it. You would not believe how many people want to jump into that machine,” the doctor said. “My soon-to-be ex-wife even offered all our money and our house to my boss for the chance to be twenty nine again. If everybody did that, I’d be willing to bet we could more than double our research budget, but the pencil-pushing higher-ups said no. Not even a ‘not yet,’ just a plain no.”
“I should think that liability played a large role in that decision,” Hotch said.
“Yeah, but what I could do with a bigger budget.” Dr Kapoor looked dreamy for a moment, the brought himself back to the present. “Sorry, you were asking about the password to get through to me. Just call up SHIELD like you did to-day, say the project name, Project Mustardseed, and the word is ‘pointillism.’”
“Pointillism?” Hotch queried.
“I didn’t pick it,” Dr Kapoor defended himself. “And whoever did probably just opened a dictionary and grabbed the first word they saw that wouldn’t come up in ordinary conversation.”
“Unless you’re an artist,” Spencer murmured, but he didn’t feel up to defining the term. If Hotch were interested, he could look it up himself.
“And now, sir, may I ask you both to sign these non-disclosure agreements,” the other agent said. “If you so much as even mention the existence of the project name or the password, let alone betray it to anybody outside this room, or the SHIELD contact number, SHIELD can and will take you into custody before prosecution, and the penalty will be severe.”
“We should have done this before, while you were at our research facility, but I guess those of us who knew what was going on were just too excited about the discovery to think of it. I know I was.” Dr Kapoor smiled briefly. “And of course, SHIELD’s delightful powers-that-be didn’t realize what we had until it was way too late. But if you both work for the FBI, I guess you’re intimately acquainted with how bureaucracy works, aren’t you?”
He didn’t wait for Hotch or Spencer to agree, simply went on. “Now we’re researching as fast as our little electron microscopes can go, while they’re spreading disinformation about aliens and trying to gag everybody who knows the truth.”
“What about the people we’ve already spoken to?” Hotch asked. “I did have to inform my superiors about Dr Reid’s condition.”
Not to mention that the team also knew, and Will, too, along with the two policemen that had been with them, and Hotch and Spencer had talked to Ally, and Hotch had also said a few words to Lars Henriksen. Spencer felt a flash of concern for Henriksen’s chickenpox-afflicted daughter.
“As long as you didn’t mention the project name or the password, and never do, they’ll be fine, and you’ll remain at liberty,” the other agent said. “Sign here, Agent Hotchner.”
He held up a clipboard and indicated a space on the paper it held. Hotch took the board and read through the document, taking his time, then borrowed the agent’s pen and finally signed. The agent shuffled the papers, clipped them back into place, and offered the board to Spencer. “Dr Reid.”
Spencer went through the text as well, but the agent was right, there wasn’t any mention of penalties for simply talking about the de-aging process; it was all about the password and the project name. He was reminded of the old saying of shutting the barn door weeks or even months after the horse had gone, but he just couldn’t muster enough energy to care what SHIELD did, or when. With a shaking hand, he signed his name, then laid down in the bed again and closed his eyes.
+++++
21 October 2011
It took a few days before Spencer was well enough to go to work again. Neither Hotch nor Jack had come down with the rotavirus, and JJ’s car had also been repaired in the meantime, so the only problem was Spencer’s lack of jacket, which neither of them realized until they were ready to go out the door. Hotch suggested that Spencer wear his official FBI jacket, even though it was much too big, but it was the only alternative they had.
“You look like you’re wearing a cloak, just like on Sword-Swinging Cats when they go out in the rain!” Jack said when he saw him. “Except their cloaks don’t have letters on the back.”
“Well, I’m not a Sword-Swinging Cat,” Spencer replied. “So I get letters.”
It was also raining when they went out, and Spencer flipped the hood up, but it came down to his chin in front. He stopped, wanting to fold it back so he could see, but Hotch urged him along, so he pushed it back down again. By the time they got in the car, his hair was very wet, and it got even more wet on the way from the car to the BAU.
At least JJ was in the bullpen when they arrived. Spencer took a step in her direction, wanting to ask about his jacket, but then he remembered Henry, and felt almost sick all over again. How bad was Henry hurt, anyway, and was she still going to blame him? Had she let herself calm down over the past few days so that she could see reason again? Or was she going to hold a grudge against him for hurting her, even indirectly?
For the first time, Spencer realized what it must have been like for JJ to have to deal with him after the revelation of Emily actually being alive. He didn’t think JJ had thrown up because of that gut-wrenching feeling of guilt, and ninety-five percent of the reason he himself had done so was due to the rotavirus, but the other five percent, that was all him. Still, it must have been torment for her to have lived so long with that feeling, to be reminded of it every time she’d looked at him, just as he felt bad now simply from seeing her.
“JJ,” he said hesitantly. “I’m really sorry about Henry. How is he, is he going to be okay?”
JJ looked almost as wary about talking to him as he felt about her, but she said, “He’ll be fine in a few weeks. The doctor said it was a greenstick fracture, and he’s got a cast, but it should heal without complications.”
“That’s good,” Spencer said. “I apologize. I didn’t push him, but I shouted at him and chased him down the stairs, and I’m so, so sorry.”
“Thank you, Spencer,” JJ said. She sounded more formal than friendly. Spencer wondered if she’d been afraid that he’d lash out at her again, the way he’d feared she’d lash out at him. But she hadn’t, perhaps because a few days had gone by since the injury and her pain and anger had faded. He checked his own negative feelings, and found that they had receded as well. They weren’t completely gone, but they definitely weren’t as strong anymore. He’d been so focused on other things that he hadn’t had any time or energy to think much lately about feeling hurt and betrayed. His good experiences with Hotch had definitely helped his attitude, and though he hadn’t had much interaction with Emily aside from work, that had all been positive as well. Maybe, he considered, he could get over the whole thing sooner rather than later. Maybe it was time to give JJ a chance.
He realized there’d been an awkward silence while he’d stood there thinking, and that JJ was staring curiously at him, wondering what else he might want, or perhaps worrying what else he might say. Taking a deep breath for courage, Spencer said, “JJ, uh, I accept your apology for lying to me about what happened with Emily, and I’m willing to try to trust you again.”
JJ’s face turned utterly radiant at his words and she exclaimed, “Thank you, Spence! Oh, I’m so happy. Can I give you a hug?”
Feeling the tension between them dissipate almost instantly, Spencer smiled, too, and held out his arms. JJ picked him up and gave him a happy squeeze, whirling him around at the same time. “I was afraid you’d never forgive me, and I felt so bad, you have no idea.”
“Actually, I do,” he replied, hugging her back. It was almost like hugging his mother, except JJ wasn’t as tall. And it was strange, he thought, how much relief came from forgiving, as much as from being forgiven. Strange, but strange in a good way.
“I’m sorry I thought you pushed Henry,” JJ went on, putting him down again. “I should have known you’d never do anything to hurt him – but I guess I was so shocked by him being hurt, combined with your attitude towards me this past month. It’s just a reason, not an excuse, though. I’m really sorry I was so harsh.”
“That’s all right, JJ,” Spencer said. “I’m sure it looked pretty bad from your point of view. Actually, many of the truths we cling to depend greatly on our own point of view.”
“That sounds like a quote from a film,” JJ said, grinning as she reached out to ruffle his hair, but before Spencer could identify which one, she suddenly exclaimed, “Why’s your hair all wet, Spence? Didn’t you wear a coat to-day?”
“I left my jacket at your house on Monday, so I put on my FBI jacket, but the hood covered my entire face,” he explained. “I thought it was better if I got wet than if I got run over in the parking lot because I couldn’t see where I was going.”
“You left your jacket at our house? I didn’t see it, Spencer, or I would have brought it over.”
“I left it in the bathroom upstairs.” He’d completely forgotten the thing when he’d run out in panic.
“Maybe Will found it. I’ll call him.” She reached for her phone, and Spencer caught sight of Ally out of the corner of his eye. He went over to her.
“Hi, how are you feeling?”
“Ten pounds lighter, and good to go,” she replied. “You?”
“Much better, thanks, but Hotch and I are going to leave early to-day to pick up my new glasses, so I won’t need an afternoon break.”
“Well, damn. After spending all week at home, I was really looking forward to a nice long day at the office.” She almost smiled, which made Spencer feel bad for what he was about to say next.
“By the way, Hotch and I talked to that doctor from SHIELD while I was sick, but they’re not letting anybody else go through the de-aging machine.”
“Oh.” Ally hid her emotions behind a blank face. “Thank you for trying.”
“I’m really sorry about your brother.”
“Thank you.”
JJ came over. “Ally. I heard you were sick, too. Are you feeling better?”
“I wouldn’t be here if I weren’t,” Ally replied.
“Spence, I talked to Will and he said he hung your jacket up next to Henry’s, and I guess we both just forgot about it. I’m sorry. How about we bring it over to-night?”
“That would be good, thanks.” Spencer turned to Ally. “I left my jacket at JJ’s on Monday, so I guess we can’t go outside to-day for my breaks.”
“I was going to ask Hotch to get you some boots and an umbrella for rainy days,” Ally said, “but you can practice jumping rope in the stairwell, and we can do some stair laps, too.” She paused, then added, “Three or four flights, not all six.”
She walked away towards her desk, and JJ said, “Ooh, stair laps, that’ll build your leg muscles and define your gluteus maximus.”
“My body is four years old, and I don’t need my glutei maximi defined,” Spencer announced, then explained, “I’m using the plural form, because everybody in the world has two buttocks, not just one, and it’s simply illogical to talk about defining a singular gluteus maximus.”
“Okay.” JJ laughed, but then suddenly she said, “Hey, it’s your birthday soon, isn’t it?”
“Next Friday.”
“What kind of present can we get you?” Still in a teasing mood, she suggested, “Legos?”
Spencer gave her a mock glare and walked away to his desk. “Actually, I just want to work.”
+++++
24 - 28 October 2011
The weekend passed without incident, but on Monday, they flew to Oregon to investigate a serial killer whose dumping grounds had been found in the woods. Their hotel had a swimming pool along with an indoor gym which included a treadmill and yoga mats, and Ally had brought along an outdoor tablecloth with a hopscotch pattern drawn on the back. During Spencer’s break, she laid the cloth down on one of the yoga mats, and told Spencer to do the hopping first on his right leg and then on his left. He wasn’t very good at hopping solely on his left leg, and sometimes lost his balance when he leaned over to pick up the jar lid they were using as a marker. But Ally kept encouraging him to try. He also practiced jumping rope, and tried to skip occasionally, too, which was still not successful.
After making sure he now had a swimming suit, Ally also introduced a new game she called Ping Pong Pals in the Pool. She had bought some ping pong balls in different colours and had drawn faces on them, to be the pals. Then she threw them into the water, scattering them around the shallow end of the pool, and Spencer had to swim around and gather them all up. His swimming was acceptable – he got from pal A to pal B and back to Ally again – but he could tell his arms and legs weren’t completely coordinated. Still, it was fun.
Ally also made him crabwalk up and down the corridor outside their room, and Spencer was doing exactly that after lunch on Thursday when he became aware of two people coming towards him. He lifted his head and recognized Emily on crutches, her right ankle in a boot-like splint, and Rossi at her side.
“What happened?” Spencer asked, getting to his feet.
“I was chasing after the Unsub and stepped in a rabbit hole or something,” Emily said. “Dislocated my ankle and sprained it pretty badly, too.”
“You’re lucky you didn’t break anything,” Spencer said.
“Yeah, that’s what they told me at the hospital.” Emily stopped at her door. “I’ll still be limited for a while, though. So on our next case, you and Garcia can just scoot over and make room for me in the Batcave, too.”
“Did you at least get the Unsub?” Ally asked.
“Not me, obviously, but Hotch and Morgan did. We’ll be home in time for your birthday, Reid.”
Ally looked curiously at him. “When’s your birthday?”
“To-morrow,” he said. “But you don’t have to get me anything.”
“Wait, so you don’t want that monogrammed jump rope I just bought?” she asked. Rossi and Emily both laughed, but Spencer actually wondered for a moment if she were serious.
“You guys better get packed up, we’ll be heading to the airport soon,” Rossi said. He opened the door to Emily’s room and held it as she limped in.
“So, are you doing anything for your birthday?” Ally asked as they went into their own room.
“No,” Spencer said. “I mean, I never plan anything because we never know when we’ll have to travel. If we’re in the office, sometimes Garcia brings cupcakes.” Spencer pulled his go-bag out of the closet and unzipped the opening. “I usually just buy myself a book or two.”
“Yeah, I don’t really celebrate my birthday, either. But if I’ve got a free weekend in July, I’ll buy a cake and some ice cream and invite my brothers and their families to a picnic in the park.”
“You have other brothers besides Gabriel?”
“One other.” She did not elaborate. ”Don’t forget your toothbrush.”
They got to the plane first. Emily came on board last, heading for the couch where she could put her leg up. As Spencer watched her maneuver her crutches down the narrow aisle, he was reminded of how it had been when he’d been shot in the leg and had managed to finagle his way on board for one mission before Hotch had found out about his “second opinion” and had grounded him. Working with Garcia in Quantico hadn’t been all bad, but of course he’d felt relieved when he was allowed to fly again.
Shortly after they’d taken off, Hotch got a phone call, then came back and stood in the aisle next to Spencer’s seat.
“I just spoke to Jessica,” he said. “Jack’s come down with chickenpox. It seems to be going around his school.”
“Oh, no,” Spencer said. “Have you had chickenpox, Hotch? Because he’ll be contagious for at least five days and up to seven.”
“I’ve had it, yes. But I know you haven’t. Do you want come home with me and run the risk, or would you rather go stay with another member of the team?”
“I really don’t want to get chickenpox,” Spencer said. “Can’t Jack go stay with Jessica?”
“No, our arrangement when Jack is sick is that she comes over during the day, and I leave a little early whenever possible so that I can take care of Jack at night,” Hotch explained.
Spencer frowned. It had been bad enough staying home with the rotavirus, especially when he’d been just well enough to be bored in between naps, but still too sick to work. But then he considered who else he could stay with. Morgan and Rossi both had dogs, and though Garcia was nice, he didn’t want to live with Kevin, and now that Emily was on crutches, that would be awkward. The only person left was JJ, and as though hearing his thoughts, she leaned out into the aisle to catch his eye.
“You could stay with us, Spence,” she invited.
He’d promised he’d try to start trusting her again, and he knew this would be the perfect opportunity, but he still hesitated. “What if Henry only remembers me as the boy who chased him down the stairs so that he broke his arm?”
“Kids forgive and forget so easily at that age. If he mentions it, just apologise, and you should be fine. Plus you know how much he adores Uncle Spencer.”
“Yes, but I’m not Uncle Spencer anymore. I don’t have the fine motor control to do any of my magic tricks anymore.” On occasion, he tried to walk a coin across his knuckles, but was having less success with it than with skipping. “And what about Will?”
“I’m sure Will won’t mind at all, but I can call him if it will make you feel better.”
Spencer remembered Will’s stare, and his questioning glances. “Yeah, it would make me feel better. And if he’s not really happy with the idea, then I could ask Emily. I could volunteer to be her legs.”
“I think she’s staying at Rossi’s for a few days. I’ll ask Will.” JJ pulled out her phone immediately and left a message for her partner to call her back. Shortly before landing, when Spencer was starting to nod off, she came back to him and announced, “I just spoke to Will and he says, the more the merrier.”
Spencer blinked tiredly up at her, taking a moment to remember what she was talking about. “Oh. Yeah, okay, thanks.”
“So I’ll get the car seat from Hotch and you can ride home with me.”
Part 11
Part 9
Return to Criminal Minds Page