Second Childhood
Part 19
9 December 2011
JJ drove Spencer home and even carried his go-bag for him, although Spencer insisted on pressing the bell and pushing the outer door open at the sound of the buzzer. Hotch’s apartment door opened as they came down the corridor, and Spencer found himself running ahead, eager to see Hotch again – but it was Jessica who stood there.
“Hi, come in, you’re just in time for supper,” Jessica said. “Hey, JJ, I thought Spencer was staying with Emily?”
“I was in the area and offered to bring him home,” JJ said with a smile. “Here’s his bag, and now I’ve got to get going, so good night, both of you.”
“Thanks for the ride, JJ, and good night,” Spencer said. He had just turned to ask Jessica where Hotch was when the man himself came into the dining area, wearing an apron and carrying a hot dish.
“Hotch!” Spencer exclaimed, going over to the table. He wanted to run over and hug the man, but Jessica passed by behind him, carrying his bag, and he repressed the urge.
“Hey, buddy, good to see you again.”
“It’s good to be back,” Spencer said. “What’s for supper?”
“Spaghetti carbonara. Dave gave me his recipe,” Hotch said. “Jessica, can you tell Jack it’s time for supper? Spencer, go wash your hands, and then we can eat.”
They were soon seated around the table and Hotch dished up.
“Looks like you lost another tooth, buddy,” he said to Spencer.
“Yeah, it came out while I was chewing on some –“ Spencer stopped, realising that his explanation of duct tape would raise some awkward questions, and tried to rescue the sentence. “Apple.”
Naturally, Hotch gave him a questioning look, but at least Jack didn’t seem to notice.
“Did you put it under your pillow? Did the Tooth Fairy come?” he asked.
“No, I lost it,” Spencer said, shifting on his chair at the word pillow and wishing he were sitting on one right then. “It fell out and, um, we were too busy to look.”
“Didn’t you write a note to the Tooth Fairy? That’s what one girl in my class said she did when she lost a tooth at the swimming pool, and she got the money anyway!”
“No, I never even thought of that.”
“Why were you too busy to look for it? What were you doing?” Jack stuck a forkful of spaghetti into his mouth and sucked on it. The ends of the spaghetti flew up and smacked him around the lips, sending spatters of sauce all over his face.
“Oh, um, we were trying to solve a special kind of puzzle.”
“What kind of puzzle?” Jack asked, and both Hotch and Jessica told him not to talk with his mouth full.
“The kind where you have a mystery, and you put the pieces together, and the picture gives you a big clue as to who the Unsub is.” Spencer cringed when he realised which word he’d said, and glanced apologetically at Hotch.
“What’s an Unsub?”
“Jack, what have I said about talking with your mouth full? And Unsub is short for Unknown Subject. It means the bad guy,” Hotch said.
After swallowing, Jack said, “Cool! Did you bring the puzzle with you? Can I do it after supper?”
“No, I had to leave it there, it didn’t belong to me.”
“Dad, do you think Santa Claus could bring me that kind of puzzle for Christmas?” Jack asked. “I want to help catch the Unsub, too!”
“I don’t know, buddy, we’ll have to see,” Hotch said.
“There were lots and lots of pieces,” Spencer said. “Actually, it was Emily’s puzzle, so it was for adults. I was just helping.”
“I’m pretty good at doing stuff for adults,” Jack said. “Dad and I play that game you got me all the time, and it’s for adults, isn’t it, Dad?”
“It’s for ages eight and up,” Spencer said. “That means older children, not adults.”
Jack scowled, then sucked up another mouthful of spaghetti, splattering more sauce and making Hotch frown.
“Speaking of Christmas, Jack, have you written your list for Santa Claus yet?” Jessica asked.
“Yeah, but can I add something to it?” Jack asked. “Like an Unsub-Puzzle?”
“Well, you can write it down, but if Santa Claus thinks it’s not the right present for you, he might not bring it,” Hotch said, and Jack scowled again.
Jessica turned to Spencer. “Have you written a list for Santa Claus yet, Spencer?”
“No,” he replied honestly, shifting again and glancing longingly at the couch in the living room where he knew there was a thick cushion just waiting for a sore bottom like his.
“You can write one after supper,” Jack said. “Do you know what you want?”
“Do you need Aaron or me to help you write it down?” Jessica asked helpfully.
Spencer glanced at Hotch, who was not bothering to hide a smile, and said, “No, thank you, I know how to write.”
“Oh.” Jessica looked surprised.
“He’s very advanced for his age,” Hotch said. Spencer was reminded of Emily saying almost the same thing to Wagoner, and felt a quick jolt of cold dread.
“I can help you think of things to write!” Jack said. “You haven’t got anything from Sword-Swinging Cats. And I’ll bet you want some Legos, too.”
“That sounds more like your list, Jack,” Hotch remarked.
“I was just giving him some ideas, Dad.”
Hotch and Jessica both smiled, and Spencer thought it was time to change the subject.
“Um, Hotch, where’s everybody going to sleep to-night?” he asked. “Because there are only three beds, but now that I’m back, there are four of us.”
“Well, Jessica’s been sleeping in my bed, and I’ve been sleeping in your bed, but I can sleep on the floor instead,” Hotch said.
“You can stay in my bed, and I can sleep in the sleeping bag.” Spencer hadn’t had any trouble sleeping on his side in the hospital bed, since none of his bruises went around the sides of his legs. He thought he’d be okay on the floor, too.
“No, he can sleep in my bed, and I’ll sleep in the sleeping bag,” Jack protested.
“Too bad we don’t have four sleeping bags, then we could all sleep on the floor,” Jessica suggested, smiling.
“Yay, one big sleepover!” Jack exclaimed.
“But since we don’t have four sleeping bags,” Hotch said, “we’ll just have to flip a coin again.”
“Maybe we should ask Santa Claus for some!” Jack suggested.
“Well, even if we did, they wouldn’t get here until Christmas,” Jessica put in, and Jack deflated visibly. “Awww.”
Spencer won the coin toss, which meant he got the sleeping bag, and then Jack insisted that he write out his list for Santa Claus. Jack even took a piece of paper and helpfully printed Spencer’s Christmas List at the top in his best handwriting before thrusting it at Spencer. After much thought, with Jack hanging over him and becoming impatient, Spencer curled his free arm around the paper and wrote: To be an adult again. On the next line, he added: Until then, a good supervisor. And finally, as an afterthought, he wrote: Gift certificate for book store.
Then he folded the paper twice and went into Hotch’s office to find an envelope, resisting Jack’s pleas to let him see and compare it with his own list. He was already yawning as he sealed the envelope, so he left it on Hotch’s desk and went to bed.
He woke up screaming and became aware of two people in the same room with him, one of whom was a crying child in the top of a bunk bed. The other one, an adult, was standing up and leaning towards the child.
“NO!” Spencer screeched, fighting his way out of the sleeping bag. “NO! Don’t hurt him! Leave him alone! You can hit me, but LEAVE HIM ALONE!”
“Spencer, easy now,” the man said, but Spencer wasn’t listening, he was planning how to get the man away from the child. He aimed a kick at the man’s leg, but when it seemed to have no effect, he climbed up one step of the ladder to get better leverage, and pushed at the man’s shoulder, then struck him with his fist. “Hit ME, not him! I’ll scream for you! I can scream BETTER than him!”
“Dad!” the child cried protectively, and shoved Spencer away, hard. Spencer lost his balance and stepped off the ladder, getting one foot on the floor for a single moment before sitting down hard on his backside.
“OWWW!” he screamed, rolling instantly onto his side and starting to bawl. “Owwww, owwww!”
Then Hotch was there. “Spencer, are you hurt?”
And Jack came down the ladder of the bunk bed, too. “Spencer? Why were you attacking Dad?”
He realised belatedly that he’d been trying to push Hotch away from Jack, and looked up at them. Still sobbing, his heart racing, he wailed, “I was scared – but I was just dream – just dreaming. I’m sorry! I’m sorry!“
“Do you want a hug?” Hotch picked him up, but his hand was positioned directly under the bruising that Spencer had just aggravated. Spencer cried out even more loudly at the pain.
Then the bedroom door opened and Jessica peeked in. “What’s going on? Is somebody hurt? Did Jack fall out of bed?”
“Jack had a nightmare, and then Spencer did, too,” Hotch explained. “I’ll take care of it, you go back to bed.”
“Are you sure?” Jessica asked. “Jack, do you want to come cuddle with me?”
“I want Dad,” Jack said, reaching out to hug Hotch and Spencer together.
“Okay,” Jessica said, and retreated again.
“Can you show me where it hurts?” Hotch asked, and Spencer shook his head vehemently. He was not going to pull his pants down where Jack could see and get nightmares about being spanked, and especially not if there was a danger of Jessica coming back in and posing awkward questions. After a moment, Hotch said, “Would you like to sit on my lap, or on the bed next to me?”
“Bed,” Spencer gasped between sobs, and kept his arms around Hotch as he sat down and positioned Spencer on his left hand side. Jack curled up on Hotch’s right, hugging his father as well, and as Hotch put an arm around each of them, Spencer felt a twinge of jealousy. He suddenly understood Henry’s possessive attitude, and was tempted for a single moment to push Jack away and snarl, “My Hotch!” But then he felt ashamed about trying to take a father away from his son, and cried even more.
With Hotch murmuring reassurances to both of them, they sat like that for a while until Spencer managed to stop crying. His heart was slowing down now, too, and he was starting to feel almost relaxed again. Quietly, Hotch said, “I think Jack’s fallen asleep again. Can I let go of you to put him back into bed?”
“Yeah,” Spencer said. Hotch gave his shoulders another squeeze, then stood up to lift Jack back to the top bunk. Pushing his hair away from his face so that he could wipe his tears with the sleeve of his pyjamas, Spencer got up as well.
“Hotch?” he asked, remembering the feel of Wagoner’s hand in his hair, both in real life and in the dream. “Can I get a haircut?”
“Sure, buddy,” Hotch said, pulling the covers over Jack. “And you can sleep in the bed if you’d be more comfortable there.”
“I’m fine if I sleep on my side.” Spencer climbed back into the sleeping bag. “Can we get my hair cut as soon as possible? I don’t like it this long anymore.”
“I know a place where you can go in without an appointment. Jessica can take us to-morrow, how’s that?”
“That’d be good. Thanks, Hotch.” He watched Hotch settle down in the lower bunk, then said, “I’m sorry I attacked you. I had a bad dream.”
“You certainly did. We can talk more about it to-morrow, but for now, thank you for wanting to defend Jack,” Hotch said, which made Spencer feel a little proud, but also very guilty for having wanted to push Jack away and have Hotch all to himself.
“Fortunately for me, Spencer,” Hotch went on, “you kick like a five-year-old boy.”
Spencer gave him a quick smile of acknowledgement and closed his eyes.
The next morning, while Jessica was preparing to drive Jack to school, Jack whined for his father to come with him, so Spencer had to get into the car, too. It wasn’t until they were back home again and Jessica had set up her laptop on the dining room table to do some work that Hotch said, “Come on, buddy, let’s talk about that nightmare last night.”
He took Spencer into Jack’s bedroom and shut the door, then said, “You want to show me where you’re hurt, Spencer?”
“Do I have to?” Spencer asked. “I’ve been checked out at a hospital, it’s just bruises.”
“No, you don’t have to,” Hotch said, and turned the chair away from Jack’s desk so he could sit on it. “But you do have to tell me what happened.”
Spencer saw one of Jack’s stuffed animals peeking out from under the guardrail of the top bunk, and pulled it free. Sitting down crosslegged on the lower bunk, Spencer squeezed the plushie cat and told Hotch what had happened when he’d been abducted.
“So, um, can you make an appointment for me to get a psych eval so I can go back to work?” he finally asked, winding the cat’s tail around one of his fingers and releasing it again.
“I’ll go do that now,” Hotch said, and went to his office to make the call. Spencer stayed where he was, wondering what he could do the entire day. He’d started to write a paper for publication, but he needed some sources that were in his apartment, and he couldn’t exactly ask Jessica to drive him around to pick them up. Maybe he could convince Jessica to drive him and Hotch to the library, but Hotch would probably want to wait for Jack, so that wouldn’t be until the afternoon. Then he remembered he needed to finish his latest letter to his mother, so he got down off the bed and looked in his bag for his pad of paper. He’d just pulled it out when Hotch came back in.
“You’re in luck, you’ve got an appointment on Tuesday at one thirty,” he said.
“That was quick.” Spencer was truly surprised; he’d expected a long wait for an appointment.
“When she found out it was for you, Dr Forletta cleared a rather large space in her calendar,” Hotch said.
Spencer imagined the psychologist eagerly rubbing her hands together at being allowed to examine a de-aged adult and taking extra time to poke and prod his experiences and emotions. It was a mental picture that made him frown. “Hotch, what if she recommends that I not go back to work?”
“Is there any reason why she would?” Hotch asked.
“Besides the fact that I’m five years old? What if that’s enough for her? And if I can’t come to work anymore, where would that leave me, Hotch? I can’t ask you to take more time off work because of me,” Spencer said. “You’ve missed so much already. But I don’t want to go to childcare, either.”
“A recommendation from a psychologist is just that, Spencer, a recommendation. Strauss and I will have the final word on whether you come back to work, and I can prove that you’ve been coping very well at work since your de-aging. So if that would be the only reason that Dr Forletta would want to suspend you, I will object,” Hotch stated. “And if there’s anything else, I’ll help you deal with it. We’ll figure it out, Spencer.”
He waited for a response, and finally prompted, “Okay?”
“Okay,” Spencer said, still a bit worried. After another moment of silence, Hotch spoke up again.
“So, how about we get your hair cut right after lunch?”
“Can’t we do it now?”
“Jessica needs to work, and lunch would be a natural stopping time. But we went to the library yesterday, and I checked out some books I thought you might be interested in. You can read while you’re waiting.” Hotch indicated a stack of books on Jack’s desk that Spencer hadn’t noticed, and Spencer went over for a closer look, his mood brightening instantly.
“Thanks, Hotch!”
+++++
13 December 2011
The weekend passed. On Monday, Jessica drove Hotch and Spencer to the doctor for Hotch’s check-up, all of them quietly rejoicing that he was cleared for work again, then went out for lunch. Then Jessica went home, and Hotch drove Spencer around to his apartment so that he could pick up his mail and gather anything else he might need or want. The next morning, Spencer endured the good-natured teasing of his team when he arrived with his hair cut almost as short as Hotch wore his. He worked on his paper in Hotch’s office, since he wasn’t officially allowed to do anything connected to the BAU until after his psych eval, and after lunch, Morgan drove him around to Dr Forletta’s office.
In between the official evaluation questions, Dr Forletta managed to slip in a few of her own, claiming they were necessary to help her understand Spencer’s unique situation. Spencer had expected something of the sort, knowing that he’d be doing the same thing in her position, and was determined to tolerate it as long as it didn’t become excessive. As a result of one of her questions, however, the conversation came around to Ally and her resignation.
“I miss her,” Spencer said. “She could be really serious, but she had lots of fun ideas for exercise. And she wasn’t a hypocrite, she wanted me to eat the same healthy food that she ate. It actually tasted good – I miss that, too, a little.”
“Have you found a new supervisor?”
“Not yet,” Spencer said with a sigh. “I asked Garcia to check again to-day, but all the agents on medical leave are too badly injured or too sick.”
“Sounds like Ally was an incredible stroke of luck in that regard.”
“Yes,” Spencer agreed. “But I can still do my job even now that she’s gone. I did just fine in Oklahoma without a supervisor. I took my own breaks, and the team took turns making sure I got food at mostly the right times, and went to bed before I fell asleep on top of my notes. I think they liked having little breaks like that, too. Like Hotch said once, it cleared his head, and the team never complained. I got the impression they actually looked forward to it. If we get called out into the field again, I could probably convince Hotch and Strauss that I can work without a supervisor.”
“I understand that having a supervisor was the condition on which you were allowed to come back to work at all after your de-aging,” Dr Forletta said.
“Yeah, but I think I’ve proved I don’t need that condition anymore.”
“Your job is very important to you, especially now, isn’t it?” she asked.
“I was just telling someone the other day that it’s like doing a jigsaw puzzle,” Spencer said. “I love finding the pieces and putting them together. Sometimes cases end with the Unsub getting killed, which, honestly, is sometimes the best outcome. Sometimes it’s regrettable, but no matter what happens, I still think it’s satisfying to solve the mystery that led us to him or her in the first place. It’s an intellectual challenge that also helps people, a deeply fascinating way to make the world a better place, you know?”
“I know,” Dr Forletta said with an encouraging smile. “I can hear your passion for it in your voice.”
“I can still do it, even if I’m hidden away in a hotel room. It’s a little harder, but it’s still possible. Without the chance to do my job, I’d be wasting my intellect and all the experience I’ve gained. It’s just my body that’s been de-aged, I still have all my memories, all my knowledge. I can still help catch the serial killers and the kidnappers. Without my job, I’d be reduced to –“
“A child?” Dr Forletta suggested.
Spencer came up with a better analogy. “A piece of equipment that’s temporarily useless, but only because it’s been unplugged, not because it doesn’t work.”
“You’re scared of being regarded as useless even though you clearly aren’t?”
Squirming a little, Spencer finally admitted, “Yeah.”
“To continue with your analogy, you’d feel like a high-speed computer that was not only unplugged, but also put into, let’s say, an empty Lego box?”
Spencer smiled. “Yeah. Exactly like that. And –“
“Go on,” Dr Forletta said, but when he continued to hesitate, she prompted, “Is there anything else about this scenario that worries you?”
Squirming again, Spencer stared down at her desk. “I’m scared the Lego box would be delivered to somebody who expects Legos and wouldn’t even recognise the computer that they find instead, let alone know how to use it.”
“And if we drop the analogy and talk in real terms, you’re afraid of … ?” Dr Forletta asked.
After a long moment, Spencer finally admitted, “Being taken away from Hotch and – and put somewhere else where they don’t know me and wouldn’t know what to do with me. Like -- like a foster family. Or childcare.”
“Thank you for telling me that, I could tell it was difficult for you,” Dr Forletta said. “I can tell you’ve developed quite a bond with Agent Hotchner. Now, I don’t want to give you any false hope or empty reassurances that this will never come to pass, but I can’t see anything happening in the immediate future that would result in you being taken away from him, let alone being put into a foster family. However, if such a situation does arise – and that seems very unlikely – and if I’m asked, I will recommend that Agent Hotchner continue to be your guardian.”
“Thank you,” Spencer said, looking up at her. Even with all the ifs, and with the memory of Hotch saying that a recommendation was only a recommendation, her statement still made him feel slightly better.
“And while we’re on the subject of fears, how do you think you’re coping after your abduction? Do you have nightmares about it?”
The evaluation continued until they used up two and a half sessions’ worth of time and Spencer was starting to get restless. Finally, Dr Forletta suggested that she wanted to see him again regularly to work on exercises that would help him cope with PTSD. Aside from that, she added with a warm smile, he could return to work immediately and she’d send the necessary paperwork along as soon as possible. Once he and Morgan had left the office, Spencer leaped enthusiastically into a pile of snow at the edge of the sidewalk.
Laughing, Morgan said, “Kid, you’re acting as happy as Clooney does whenever I get home.”
“I am happy,” Spencer announced, wading out and heading for the next snowpile. “I get to go back to work!”
“Only you could get excited about that, Pretty Boy, only you,” Morgan said.
Part 20
Part 18
Return to Criminal Minds Page
JJ drove Spencer home and even carried his go-bag for him, although Spencer insisted on pressing the bell and pushing the outer door open at the sound of the buzzer. Hotch’s apartment door opened as they came down the corridor, and Spencer found himself running ahead, eager to see Hotch again – but it was Jessica who stood there.
“Hi, come in, you’re just in time for supper,” Jessica said. “Hey, JJ, I thought Spencer was staying with Emily?”
“I was in the area and offered to bring him home,” JJ said with a smile. “Here’s his bag, and now I’ve got to get going, so good night, both of you.”
“Thanks for the ride, JJ, and good night,” Spencer said. He had just turned to ask Jessica where Hotch was when the man himself came into the dining area, wearing an apron and carrying a hot dish.
“Hotch!” Spencer exclaimed, going over to the table. He wanted to run over and hug the man, but Jessica passed by behind him, carrying his bag, and he repressed the urge.
“Hey, buddy, good to see you again.”
“It’s good to be back,” Spencer said. “What’s for supper?”
“Spaghetti carbonara. Dave gave me his recipe,” Hotch said. “Jessica, can you tell Jack it’s time for supper? Spencer, go wash your hands, and then we can eat.”
They were soon seated around the table and Hotch dished up.
“Looks like you lost another tooth, buddy,” he said to Spencer.
“Yeah, it came out while I was chewing on some –“ Spencer stopped, realising that his explanation of duct tape would raise some awkward questions, and tried to rescue the sentence. “Apple.”
Naturally, Hotch gave him a questioning look, but at least Jack didn’t seem to notice.
“Did you put it under your pillow? Did the Tooth Fairy come?” he asked.
“No, I lost it,” Spencer said, shifting on his chair at the word pillow and wishing he were sitting on one right then. “It fell out and, um, we were too busy to look.”
“Didn’t you write a note to the Tooth Fairy? That’s what one girl in my class said she did when she lost a tooth at the swimming pool, and she got the money anyway!”
“No, I never even thought of that.”
“Why were you too busy to look for it? What were you doing?” Jack stuck a forkful of spaghetti into his mouth and sucked on it. The ends of the spaghetti flew up and smacked him around the lips, sending spatters of sauce all over his face.
“Oh, um, we were trying to solve a special kind of puzzle.”
“What kind of puzzle?” Jack asked, and both Hotch and Jessica told him not to talk with his mouth full.
“The kind where you have a mystery, and you put the pieces together, and the picture gives you a big clue as to who the Unsub is.” Spencer cringed when he realised which word he’d said, and glanced apologetically at Hotch.
“What’s an Unsub?”
“Jack, what have I said about talking with your mouth full? And Unsub is short for Unknown Subject. It means the bad guy,” Hotch said.
After swallowing, Jack said, “Cool! Did you bring the puzzle with you? Can I do it after supper?”
“No, I had to leave it there, it didn’t belong to me.”
“Dad, do you think Santa Claus could bring me that kind of puzzle for Christmas?” Jack asked. “I want to help catch the Unsub, too!”
“I don’t know, buddy, we’ll have to see,” Hotch said.
“There were lots and lots of pieces,” Spencer said. “Actually, it was Emily’s puzzle, so it was for adults. I was just helping.”
“I’m pretty good at doing stuff for adults,” Jack said. “Dad and I play that game you got me all the time, and it’s for adults, isn’t it, Dad?”
“It’s for ages eight and up,” Spencer said. “That means older children, not adults.”
Jack scowled, then sucked up another mouthful of spaghetti, splattering more sauce and making Hotch frown.
“Speaking of Christmas, Jack, have you written your list for Santa Claus yet?” Jessica asked.
“Yeah, but can I add something to it?” Jack asked. “Like an Unsub-Puzzle?”
“Well, you can write it down, but if Santa Claus thinks it’s not the right present for you, he might not bring it,” Hotch said, and Jack scowled again.
Jessica turned to Spencer. “Have you written a list for Santa Claus yet, Spencer?”
“No,” he replied honestly, shifting again and glancing longingly at the couch in the living room where he knew there was a thick cushion just waiting for a sore bottom like his.
“You can write one after supper,” Jack said. “Do you know what you want?”
“Do you need Aaron or me to help you write it down?” Jessica asked helpfully.
Spencer glanced at Hotch, who was not bothering to hide a smile, and said, “No, thank you, I know how to write.”
“Oh.” Jessica looked surprised.
“He’s very advanced for his age,” Hotch said. Spencer was reminded of Emily saying almost the same thing to Wagoner, and felt a quick jolt of cold dread.
“I can help you think of things to write!” Jack said. “You haven’t got anything from Sword-Swinging Cats. And I’ll bet you want some Legos, too.”
“That sounds more like your list, Jack,” Hotch remarked.
“I was just giving him some ideas, Dad.”
Hotch and Jessica both smiled, and Spencer thought it was time to change the subject.
“Um, Hotch, where’s everybody going to sleep to-night?” he asked. “Because there are only three beds, but now that I’m back, there are four of us.”
“Well, Jessica’s been sleeping in my bed, and I’ve been sleeping in your bed, but I can sleep on the floor instead,” Hotch said.
“You can stay in my bed, and I can sleep in the sleeping bag.” Spencer hadn’t had any trouble sleeping on his side in the hospital bed, since none of his bruises went around the sides of his legs. He thought he’d be okay on the floor, too.
“No, he can sleep in my bed, and I’ll sleep in the sleeping bag,” Jack protested.
“Too bad we don’t have four sleeping bags, then we could all sleep on the floor,” Jessica suggested, smiling.
“Yay, one big sleepover!” Jack exclaimed.
“But since we don’t have four sleeping bags,” Hotch said, “we’ll just have to flip a coin again.”
“Maybe we should ask Santa Claus for some!” Jack suggested.
“Well, even if we did, they wouldn’t get here until Christmas,” Jessica put in, and Jack deflated visibly. “Awww.”
Spencer won the coin toss, which meant he got the sleeping bag, and then Jack insisted that he write out his list for Santa Claus. Jack even took a piece of paper and helpfully printed Spencer’s Christmas List at the top in his best handwriting before thrusting it at Spencer. After much thought, with Jack hanging over him and becoming impatient, Spencer curled his free arm around the paper and wrote: To be an adult again. On the next line, he added: Until then, a good supervisor. And finally, as an afterthought, he wrote: Gift certificate for book store.
Then he folded the paper twice and went into Hotch’s office to find an envelope, resisting Jack’s pleas to let him see and compare it with his own list. He was already yawning as he sealed the envelope, so he left it on Hotch’s desk and went to bed.
He woke up screaming and became aware of two people in the same room with him, one of whom was a crying child in the top of a bunk bed. The other one, an adult, was standing up and leaning towards the child.
“NO!” Spencer screeched, fighting his way out of the sleeping bag. “NO! Don’t hurt him! Leave him alone! You can hit me, but LEAVE HIM ALONE!”
“Spencer, easy now,” the man said, but Spencer wasn’t listening, he was planning how to get the man away from the child. He aimed a kick at the man’s leg, but when it seemed to have no effect, he climbed up one step of the ladder to get better leverage, and pushed at the man’s shoulder, then struck him with his fist. “Hit ME, not him! I’ll scream for you! I can scream BETTER than him!”
“Dad!” the child cried protectively, and shoved Spencer away, hard. Spencer lost his balance and stepped off the ladder, getting one foot on the floor for a single moment before sitting down hard on his backside.
“OWWW!” he screamed, rolling instantly onto his side and starting to bawl. “Owwww, owwww!”
Then Hotch was there. “Spencer, are you hurt?”
And Jack came down the ladder of the bunk bed, too. “Spencer? Why were you attacking Dad?”
He realised belatedly that he’d been trying to push Hotch away from Jack, and looked up at them. Still sobbing, his heart racing, he wailed, “I was scared – but I was just dream – just dreaming. I’m sorry! I’m sorry!“
“Do you want a hug?” Hotch picked him up, but his hand was positioned directly under the bruising that Spencer had just aggravated. Spencer cried out even more loudly at the pain.
Then the bedroom door opened and Jessica peeked in. “What’s going on? Is somebody hurt? Did Jack fall out of bed?”
“Jack had a nightmare, and then Spencer did, too,” Hotch explained. “I’ll take care of it, you go back to bed.”
“Are you sure?” Jessica asked. “Jack, do you want to come cuddle with me?”
“I want Dad,” Jack said, reaching out to hug Hotch and Spencer together.
“Okay,” Jessica said, and retreated again.
“Can you show me where it hurts?” Hotch asked, and Spencer shook his head vehemently. He was not going to pull his pants down where Jack could see and get nightmares about being spanked, and especially not if there was a danger of Jessica coming back in and posing awkward questions. After a moment, Hotch said, “Would you like to sit on my lap, or on the bed next to me?”
“Bed,” Spencer gasped between sobs, and kept his arms around Hotch as he sat down and positioned Spencer on his left hand side. Jack curled up on Hotch’s right, hugging his father as well, and as Hotch put an arm around each of them, Spencer felt a twinge of jealousy. He suddenly understood Henry’s possessive attitude, and was tempted for a single moment to push Jack away and snarl, “My Hotch!” But then he felt ashamed about trying to take a father away from his son, and cried even more.
With Hotch murmuring reassurances to both of them, they sat like that for a while until Spencer managed to stop crying. His heart was slowing down now, too, and he was starting to feel almost relaxed again. Quietly, Hotch said, “I think Jack’s fallen asleep again. Can I let go of you to put him back into bed?”
“Yeah,” Spencer said. Hotch gave his shoulders another squeeze, then stood up to lift Jack back to the top bunk. Pushing his hair away from his face so that he could wipe his tears with the sleeve of his pyjamas, Spencer got up as well.
“Hotch?” he asked, remembering the feel of Wagoner’s hand in his hair, both in real life and in the dream. “Can I get a haircut?”
“Sure, buddy,” Hotch said, pulling the covers over Jack. “And you can sleep in the bed if you’d be more comfortable there.”
“I’m fine if I sleep on my side.” Spencer climbed back into the sleeping bag. “Can we get my hair cut as soon as possible? I don’t like it this long anymore.”
“I know a place where you can go in without an appointment. Jessica can take us to-morrow, how’s that?”
“That’d be good. Thanks, Hotch.” He watched Hotch settle down in the lower bunk, then said, “I’m sorry I attacked you. I had a bad dream.”
“You certainly did. We can talk more about it to-morrow, but for now, thank you for wanting to defend Jack,” Hotch said, which made Spencer feel a little proud, but also very guilty for having wanted to push Jack away and have Hotch all to himself.
“Fortunately for me, Spencer,” Hotch went on, “you kick like a five-year-old boy.”
Spencer gave him a quick smile of acknowledgement and closed his eyes.
The next morning, while Jessica was preparing to drive Jack to school, Jack whined for his father to come with him, so Spencer had to get into the car, too. It wasn’t until they were back home again and Jessica had set up her laptop on the dining room table to do some work that Hotch said, “Come on, buddy, let’s talk about that nightmare last night.”
He took Spencer into Jack’s bedroom and shut the door, then said, “You want to show me where you’re hurt, Spencer?”
“Do I have to?” Spencer asked. “I’ve been checked out at a hospital, it’s just bruises.”
“No, you don’t have to,” Hotch said, and turned the chair away from Jack’s desk so he could sit on it. “But you do have to tell me what happened.”
Spencer saw one of Jack’s stuffed animals peeking out from under the guardrail of the top bunk, and pulled it free. Sitting down crosslegged on the lower bunk, Spencer squeezed the plushie cat and told Hotch what had happened when he’d been abducted.
“So, um, can you make an appointment for me to get a psych eval so I can go back to work?” he finally asked, winding the cat’s tail around one of his fingers and releasing it again.
“I’ll go do that now,” Hotch said, and went to his office to make the call. Spencer stayed where he was, wondering what he could do the entire day. He’d started to write a paper for publication, but he needed some sources that were in his apartment, and he couldn’t exactly ask Jessica to drive him around to pick them up. Maybe he could convince Jessica to drive him and Hotch to the library, but Hotch would probably want to wait for Jack, so that wouldn’t be until the afternoon. Then he remembered he needed to finish his latest letter to his mother, so he got down off the bed and looked in his bag for his pad of paper. He’d just pulled it out when Hotch came back in.
“You’re in luck, you’ve got an appointment on Tuesday at one thirty,” he said.
“That was quick.” Spencer was truly surprised; he’d expected a long wait for an appointment.
“When she found out it was for you, Dr Forletta cleared a rather large space in her calendar,” Hotch said.
Spencer imagined the psychologist eagerly rubbing her hands together at being allowed to examine a de-aged adult and taking extra time to poke and prod his experiences and emotions. It was a mental picture that made him frown. “Hotch, what if she recommends that I not go back to work?”
“Is there any reason why she would?” Hotch asked.
“Besides the fact that I’m five years old? What if that’s enough for her? And if I can’t come to work anymore, where would that leave me, Hotch? I can’t ask you to take more time off work because of me,” Spencer said. “You’ve missed so much already. But I don’t want to go to childcare, either.”
“A recommendation from a psychologist is just that, Spencer, a recommendation. Strauss and I will have the final word on whether you come back to work, and I can prove that you’ve been coping very well at work since your de-aging. So if that would be the only reason that Dr Forletta would want to suspend you, I will object,” Hotch stated. “And if there’s anything else, I’ll help you deal with it. We’ll figure it out, Spencer.”
He waited for a response, and finally prompted, “Okay?”
“Okay,” Spencer said, still a bit worried. After another moment of silence, Hotch spoke up again.
“So, how about we get your hair cut right after lunch?”
“Can’t we do it now?”
“Jessica needs to work, and lunch would be a natural stopping time. But we went to the library yesterday, and I checked out some books I thought you might be interested in. You can read while you’re waiting.” Hotch indicated a stack of books on Jack’s desk that Spencer hadn’t noticed, and Spencer went over for a closer look, his mood brightening instantly.
“Thanks, Hotch!”
+++++
13 December 2011
The weekend passed. On Monday, Jessica drove Hotch and Spencer to the doctor for Hotch’s check-up, all of them quietly rejoicing that he was cleared for work again, then went out for lunch. Then Jessica went home, and Hotch drove Spencer around to his apartment so that he could pick up his mail and gather anything else he might need or want. The next morning, Spencer endured the good-natured teasing of his team when he arrived with his hair cut almost as short as Hotch wore his. He worked on his paper in Hotch’s office, since he wasn’t officially allowed to do anything connected to the BAU until after his psych eval, and after lunch, Morgan drove him around to Dr Forletta’s office.
In between the official evaluation questions, Dr Forletta managed to slip in a few of her own, claiming they were necessary to help her understand Spencer’s unique situation. Spencer had expected something of the sort, knowing that he’d be doing the same thing in her position, and was determined to tolerate it as long as it didn’t become excessive. As a result of one of her questions, however, the conversation came around to Ally and her resignation.
“I miss her,” Spencer said. “She could be really serious, but she had lots of fun ideas for exercise. And she wasn’t a hypocrite, she wanted me to eat the same healthy food that she ate. It actually tasted good – I miss that, too, a little.”
“Have you found a new supervisor?”
“Not yet,” Spencer said with a sigh. “I asked Garcia to check again to-day, but all the agents on medical leave are too badly injured or too sick.”
“Sounds like Ally was an incredible stroke of luck in that regard.”
“Yes,” Spencer agreed. “But I can still do my job even now that she’s gone. I did just fine in Oklahoma without a supervisor. I took my own breaks, and the team took turns making sure I got food at mostly the right times, and went to bed before I fell asleep on top of my notes. I think they liked having little breaks like that, too. Like Hotch said once, it cleared his head, and the team never complained. I got the impression they actually looked forward to it. If we get called out into the field again, I could probably convince Hotch and Strauss that I can work without a supervisor.”
“I understand that having a supervisor was the condition on which you were allowed to come back to work at all after your de-aging,” Dr Forletta said.
“Yeah, but I think I’ve proved I don’t need that condition anymore.”
“Your job is very important to you, especially now, isn’t it?” she asked.
“I was just telling someone the other day that it’s like doing a jigsaw puzzle,” Spencer said. “I love finding the pieces and putting them together. Sometimes cases end with the Unsub getting killed, which, honestly, is sometimes the best outcome. Sometimes it’s regrettable, but no matter what happens, I still think it’s satisfying to solve the mystery that led us to him or her in the first place. It’s an intellectual challenge that also helps people, a deeply fascinating way to make the world a better place, you know?”
“I know,” Dr Forletta said with an encouraging smile. “I can hear your passion for it in your voice.”
“I can still do it, even if I’m hidden away in a hotel room. It’s a little harder, but it’s still possible. Without the chance to do my job, I’d be wasting my intellect and all the experience I’ve gained. It’s just my body that’s been de-aged, I still have all my memories, all my knowledge. I can still help catch the serial killers and the kidnappers. Without my job, I’d be reduced to –“
“A child?” Dr Forletta suggested.
Spencer came up with a better analogy. “A piece of equipment that’s temporarily useless, but only because it’s been unplugged, not because it doesn’t work.”
“You’re scared of being regarded as useless even though you clearly aren’t?”
Squirming a little, Spencer finally admitted, “Yeah.”
“To continue with your analogy, you’d feel like a high-speed computer that was not only unplugged, but also put into, let’s say, an empty Lego box?”
Spencer smiled. “Yeah. Exactly like that. And –“
“Go on,” Dr Forletta said, but when he continued to hesitate, she prompted, “Is there anything else about this scenario that worries you?”
Squirming again, Spencer stared down at her desk. “I’m scared the Lego box would be delivered to somebody who expects Legos and wouldn’t even recognise the computer that they find instead, let alone know how to use it.”
“And if we drop the analogy and talk in real terms, you’re afraid of … ?” Dr Forletta asked.
After a long moment, Spencer finally admitted, “Being taken away from Hotch and – and put somewhere else where they don’t know me and wouldn’t know what to do with me. Like -- like a foster family. Or childcare.”
“Thank you for telling me that, I could tell it was difficult for you,” Dr Forletta said. “I can tell you’ve developed quite a bond with Agent Hotchner. Now, I don’t want to give you any false hope or empty reassurances that this will never come to pass, but I can’t see anything happening in the immediate future that would result in you being taken away from him, let alone being put into a foster family. However, if such a situation does arise – and that seems very unlikely – and if I’m asked, I will recommend that Agent Hotchner continue to be your guardian.”
“Thank you,” Spencer said, looking up at her. Even with all the ifs, and with the memory of Hotch saying that a recommendation was only a recommendation, her statement still made him feel slightly better.
“And while we’re on the subject of fears, how do you think you’re coping after your abduction? Do you have nightmares about it?”
The evaluation continued until they used up two and a half sessions’ worth of time and Spencer was starting to get restless. Finally, Dr Forletta suggested that she wanted to see him again regularly to work on exercises that would help him cope with PTSD. Aside from that, she added with a warm smile, he could return to work immediately and she’d send the necessary paperwork along as soon as possible. Once he and Morgan had left the office, Spencer leaped enthusiastically into a pile of snow at the edge of the sidewalk.
Laughing, Morgan said, “Kid, you’re acting as happy as Clooney does whenever I get home.”
“I am happy,” Spencer announced, wading out and heading for the next snowpile. “I get to go back to work!”
“Only you could get excited about that, Pretty Boy, only you,” Morgan said.
Part 20
Part 18
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