Second Childhood
Part 22
20 December 2011
That night, Spencer had another nightmare that included a beaver form of Harper Hillman, and increasingly more terrifying dreams each night after that, even though Jonas left on Friday evening and did not come back. Each night, Spencer woke screaming and thrashing, and each time, he stayed awake a little longer before being able to settle down again, Finally, on Tuesday afternoon, Hotch called and said that the case was over, they’d caught the Unsub, and they’d be arriving that evening. Spencer was almost too impatient to wait out the day, and going to sleep was out of the question, even though it was way past his bedtime. He wanted to be wide awake for a big hug when Hotch came to pick him up.
At the time that Spencer had hoped Hotch would arrive, his phone rang. He answered it excitedly, hoping that Hotch would say he was in the parking lot already, but instead, Hotch said, “Buddy, it’s icy out here, and we had a little fender bender, so I’m going to be later than I thought.”
“No!” Spencer whined, looking around the playroom in disbelief. He’d opted to sit at the round table while waiting, with his shoes on and his coat ready, instead of laying down on the bed and risking falling asleep. “Hotch, I’m so tired of being here, I want to go home!”
“I know you do,” Hotch said. “I want to go home, too. It might take us another thirty to forty minutes, so please try to be patient.”
“The amount of patience I have is proportional to my physical age, so I’ve used it all up since I’ve been here,” Spencer told him.
“You can go to sleep if you’re tired,” Hotch said. “You won’t miss anything. I’ll wake you up when I come.”
“I’m not tired, I just want you to get here,” Spencer said.
“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Hotch promised. When he’d hung up, Spencer sank back down in his chair in disappointment. He wouldn’t cry. It was silly to cry about Hotch being late, especially if it was due to the weather. He squeezed his eyes shut, determined not to cry.
Strauss took hold of his wrist in an iron grip and led him out of the childcare centre into a corridor that led to the cell block at SHIELD, except that the cells had bars instead of the thick steel doors, and every member of his team was on the inside of the bars, standing silently and watching as Strauss pulled him along. But when he saw that Hotch was not in a cell and was standing next to an open door, Spencer stopped trying to escape Strauss’s grip and reached out with his free hand.
“Hotch!”
But although Hotch extended his arms, Spencer could tell that he didn’t have a hug in mind, that he was going to throw Spencer into the dark cell. There were horrible things in there, huge beavers, teenagers, SHIELD agents, and Wagoner, too, all waiting to attack. Panicked, Spencer fought back, kicking, hitting, and screaming, “No, Hotch, don’t leave me here!” His foot connected with something and Hotch dropped him, and it wasn’t the cell at all, it was the playroom, and --
“Don’t leave me!” Spencer sobbed, curling up to protect himself. “Hotch, don’t leave me in here with them!”
“Spencer, Spencer, it’s okay, you were dreaming.” Something touched his shoulder, and he screeched, but instead of an attack, it was a hand stroking his arm, moving to stroke his head, then moving back to his arm. Eventually, he realised it was Connie, repeating soothing words as well. “It’s all right, sweetie, it was a bad dream, everything’s okay now.”
“Hotch!” he wailed again. “Hotch!”
“I’m here, buddy,” came a familiar voice, and Spencer uncurled and looked up and over to where Hotch was standing with one hand to his face, trying to stem a nosebleed. “And I’m not leaving you anywhere.”
“Hotch!” Spencer cried again, scrambling up off the floor and lunging to throw his arms around him. “Oh, Hotch!”
“That must have been quite a nightmare,” Hotch said, and Spencer had never heard his voice sound so nasal.
“Uh huh,” he agreed.
Mina approached with a handful of tissues, and Hotch applied them gently to his nose. Mina also offered one to Spencer.
“Did I kick you?” Spencer asked, leaning back a little to look up at him while wiping his tears away. “Hotch, I’m so sorry!”
“It’s okay, buddy,” Hotch said. “I don’t think anything is broken.”
Spencer noticed he didn’t say anything about kicking like a five-year-old boy, and felt even worse. “You should sit down, you might have a concussion.”
“I’m pretty sure I could tell if I had a concussion,” Hotch said. “I do have a bit of experience, you know.”
Still sniffing a little, Spencer turned to Mina. “Do you have something cold in the kitchen? If you put something cold on the back of his neck, it will stop the bleeding.”
“Really?” she asked. “I’ll get an ice pack, then.”
“Here, Hotch, come sit down, and let me loosen your tie,” Spencer said. Hotch settled himself awkwardly in one of the small chairs at the table and allowed Spencer to work at his tie and the top button of his shirt. When Mina came back with the ice pack, Spencer put it down the back of Hotch’s shirt.
Hotch shivered at the touch, but didn’t protest, and after a moment, he took the tissue from his nose. “Huh, that really works. Where’d you read about that, Spencer?”
“Actually, there was a boy in my first grade class who was always getting nosebleeds, and my teacher used to make me take him to the school nurse. She always had an ice pack ready to use like this,” Spencer explained. “If you don’t have ice, you can use anything cold. Lots of people use their keys or the blade of a table knife. It’s the mammalian dive reflex; when the cold hits the nerves in your neck, the blood vessels constrict, and the blood is shunted away from the skin – in this case, the inside of the nose – and redirected to the vital organs.”
“Well, it seems to have done the trick,” Hotch said. He reached up and pulled the ice pack out of his shirt.
“I’m sorry, Hotch,” Spencer said again, looking at the mark on Hotch’s face that would turn into a bruise. “It was such a scary dream.”
“Well, you’ve made up for it with this,” Hotch asked, indicating the ice pack and then gingerly applying it to his face. “But, Spencer, why didn’t you tell me you’ve been having nightmares since you’ve been here?”
So, he’d been talking to the caretakers before waking Spencer up, and had probably found out about the biting, and the loss of Spencer’s paper, and everything else that Spencer hadn’t mentioned.
“Because there’s nothing you could have done,” Spencer said, and before Hotch could point out that Spencer could have called him, he added, “And you had enough to worry about with Jack and Jessica.”
Hotch looked like he wanted to say something, but changed his mind at the last minute. Instead, he smiled a quick, sad smile and said, “Come on, buddy, let’s get you home.”
+++++
21 December 2011
Spencer opened his eyes and looked around the familiar bedroom with a deep sense of relief. It was so good to be back. There was movement in the top bunk, and then Jack came down the ladder. He stopped and leaned closer to Spencer, and when he saw that Spencer was awake, he grinned. “Hey, I missed you! Where were you?”
“Um, I had to go stay with a special substitute nanny for a few days.”
“Did you have fun? Jessica and me went to the movies on Saturday, it was really fun. We had popcorn and Coke – but don’t tell Dad, he doesn’t let me have Coke.”
“I think it’s time for breakfast,” Spencer said, not wanting to admit that the only fun he’d had in childcare was when he’d made a Christmas card for his mother with potato stamps and paint. He got out of bed and started dressing while Jack ran to the bathroom, then went into the kitchen. “Morning, Hotch.”
“Hey, Spencer, how’d you sleep?”
“I didn’t have any nightmares,” he said. “Not that I remember, anyway.”
“That’s good. I’m glad,” Hotch said.
“How’s your face?” Spencer looked up at the bruise spreading over Hotch’s left cheek.
“It’s fine.”
Jack came in just then. “Dad, you’re coming to my Christmas concert to-morrow, right?”
“If I’m here, I’ll definitely be coming,” Hotch said. “But you know that I might have to go out on a case at any time.”
“Even at Christmas?” Jack asked. “Would you have to work on Christmas, Dad?”
“If I’m home on a holiday like Christmas, I don’t have to go to the office, but if I’m out somewhere trying to catch the bad guys –“
“The Unsubs, Dad!” Jack was obviously proud of his recently acquired vocabulary.
“—the Unsubs, then I can’t take a break, because the Unsubs aren’t taking a break, either.”
“Christmas can be the worst time for Unsubs, it can bring out the worst in them. They might hate the holidays,” Spencer put in, and Jack stared at him, completely flummoxed by the idea. “What? But everybody loves Christmas!”
“Not everybody,” said Hotch. “A lot of times, the Unsubs don’t have a happy family like we do, Jack. Holidays can be hard for them because sometimes bad things happen even though they were hoping for good things, and so they don’t always have good memories.”
Jack thought about the concept while he ate, then said, “Spencer, you know how you have to live with us because your mom is in a special hospital and can’t take care of you?”
“Yeah,” Spencer said slowly.
“So you don’t really have a happy family like me and Dad,” Jack went on.
“Just because my mother is in a special hospital doesn’t mean we aren’t happy,” Spencer said. “She loves me, and I love her, and we’ve always tried to do what’s best for each other.“
“So … you do have good memories of Christmas?” Jack asked.
“Yeah,” Spencer said. Some of his memories were good, anyway. And then he realised where Jack was taking the conversation, and said, “Jack, are you asking if I’m going to become an Unsub because I’m not with my mom right now? Because the answer is no, I’m not. You and your dad are like – um, being here with you is like – well, it‘s enough to give me good memories.”
“Okay, that’s good.” Jack looked relieved. “Because then Dad would have to hunt you down, and he’d catch you, because he’s really good at his job, and then you’d go to jail, and I wouldn’t want that.”
“I wouldn’t want to go to jail, either,” Spencer said, glancing over to Hotch, who looked touched and slightly chagrined as well. “And you’re right, your dad’s the best. I wouldn’t want him hunting me if I were an Unsub.”
“You’re going to be with us for Christmas, right? Dad said you were. It’ll be way fun! Dad and I already went shopping to get you –“
“Jack, it’s supposed to be a surprise, remember?” Hotch warned.
“I wasn’t going to tell him what we bought, Dad! I was just going to say presents. And Santa will bring him something nice, too. Spencer wrote a list for him, but he wouldn’t let me see it, so it’ll be a surprise for him, and for me, too.”
“Okay, buddy, if you’re done eating, then it’s time to go,” Hotch announced. “It’s not Christmas yet, and you still have school.”
“Christmas is way more fun than school,” Jack grumbled. “We’re probably just going to rehearse for the Christmas concert again, but I know all the songs already. You’re coming to the concert, too, right, Spencer?”
“If your dad’s here to take me, I’ll definitely come,” Spencer said.
They drove Jack to school, and then continued on to the BAU. Spencer sat quietly in the back seat, thinking about how close he’d come to admitting that he saw Hotch as part of his family, not simply as a father-figure, but as a father. He hadn’t spent quite enough time with Jack to regard him as a brother – although he was close – but Hotch was definitely the dad he wished he’d always had. Spencer just couldn’t admit it – not just yet. It might remind Hotch of his willingness to adopt Spencer, and Spencer wasn’t ready to seriously discuss taking that step. He still thought of himself as an adult, and being adopted by Hotch would only confirm his child status to the world. Despite the official SHIELD declaration, he was still holding out hope for a re-aging machine. He also hoped that Jack wouldn’t get too attached to young Spencer, so that he wouldn’t miss him too much when he disappeared.
At the BAU, Spencer had to get a visitor’s badge because Strauss had taken his. And when they arrived at the bullpen, Garcia came out of her office with a gift bag in one hand. “Hi, Spencer, welcome back to the world of adults. Sir! What happened to your face?”
“Spencer kicked me by accident during a nightmare,” Hotch explained.
“Ouch! That must have been a really bad dream. But, um, maybe this will help you feel better. Not that I looked deliberately, it was already open. It’s from an Agent Grant, she came by yesterday and left this for you as an apology.”
She handed over the gift bag, and Hotch said, “Agent Grant?”
“Renee Grant, from counterterrorism. There’s a note, see?”
Hotch opened the folded piece of paper attached to the handle of the bag and read aloud, “To Agent Hotchner and Spencer, please accept this heartfelt apology for my son biting your son. We’re so sorry. Renee and Jonas Grant.”
“Somebody bit Jack?” Emily asked, having come up from behind.
“Somebody bit you?” Hotch asked at the same time, looking down at Spencer in alarm.
“Didn’t they tell you that, down in childcare?” Spencer asked.
“No, and neither did you,” Hotch remarked.
Spencer looked briefly away. “You had enough to worry about.”
“Is that how your hand got hurt?”
Spencer held it out. The bite wound was healing nicely – he was surprised that Hotch had noticed. “Um, yeah. What’s in the bag?“
Hotch pulled out a bottle of red wine, a bar of expensive chocolate, and a medium-sized box of Legos which he handed to Spencer. “I think these are for you.”
The box showed something to do with Captain America and SHIELD, which made Spencer wince inwardly. “I’ll swap you for the chocolate. I’m sure Jack would appreciate this more than I would.”
“That’s a pretty big apology,” Emily said, looking appreciatively at the wine as Hotch and Spencer exchanged gifts.
Spencer wondered if Jonas’ mother spent all her time feeling as though she had to apologise to everybody about her son. He remembered how his own father had wanted him to at least appear less cerebral and more ‘normal.’ In comparison, Hotch and JJ never had to apologise for their children being what they were and were instead always ready to say how proud they felt of their offspring. The differences made him feel vaguely sad.
Out loud, Spencer said, “Jonas is probably somewhere on the autism spectrum and spends all his time pretending to be a beaver. I wish he’d chosen to be a seahorse instead; they don’t have teeth. I thought he was going to bite my thumb off the second time.”
“The second time?” Emily asked with a grimace. “Where’d he get you the first time?”
“My leg.”
“Spencer, you darling little cinnamon roll that’s been chomped on twice!” Garcia exclaimed. “I offered to break you out of there, why didn’t you take me up on it instead of hunkering down like that guy on the toilet in Jurassic Park?”
Spencer had no idea what she was referring to, but he did know his own reasons for not trying to escape childcare. “Because Strauss had already suspended me, and she might have suspended you, too. And I didn’t want to risk losing my job completely, either. I mean, normally I’d know I could go into teaching or consultancy or anything else right away, but now – “
He indicated his younger self, then said, “And speaking of Strauss, Hotch, can we get my badge back?”
“Yes, we can do that,” Hotch said.
“Oh, sir, Strauss isn’t here anymore,” Garcia said. “She’s on leave for an unspecified amount of time, if you know what I mean.”
“Is she in a treatment program?” Spencer asked, remembering the smell of alcohol on Strauss’s breath.
“Winner, winner, chicken dinner!” Garcia exclaimed. “She’s apparently been having trouble ever since she found out her son was following in her alcoholic footsteps, and it all got worse when she tried to get him into a treatment program and he ran away. Last I’ve heard, he’s still in the wind.”
“I thought it might be her son,” Hotch said quietly, almost to himself. Spencer nodded, and even though he didn’t like Strauss all that much, he could still imagine her guilt and anguish at her son’s behaviour.
“So anyway, we have a new Section Chief, a Robert Garibaldi. I told him you’d be back to-day.”
“Rob Garibaldi? We worked together in the field office in Seattle; I didn’t know he was in Quantico,” Hotch said, and there was a note of pleasant surprise in his voice. He put the wine and the box of Legos back in the bag, then set it on Spencer’s desk. “It’ll be good to catch up with him.”
He led the way and Spencer went after him. The door to Strauss’s office was open, and Spencer could see that her name plate had been removed, but nothing had replaced it yet. Hotch knocked and stepped in.
“Rob!”
“Aaron!” The man behind the desk, tall and broad, stood up and came around for a manly hug. When he pulled back, though, he said, “I was sorry to hear about Haley. Are you doing all right?”
“Thanks, yeah. You’re still together with Karen? How are the kids?” At Garibaldi’s affirmative nod, Hotch went on, “Rob, this is Dr Spencer Reid.”
“Oh, I’ve just been reading about you,” Garibaldi replied. Spencer gave him a wave, but Garibaldi put out his hand anyway, lifting his eyebrows when Spencer did not reciprocate.
“It’s all true, sir,” Spencer said, thinking he meant the de-aging.
“Sir down.” As they did so, Garibaldi lifted a file from his desk. “It’s all true? You really were insubordinate to Strauss, refused to act in accordance to the conditions she’d set out, rejected the supervisor that she appointed, then deliberately went behind her back in an attempt to continue working on a case although she had revoked her permission because you did not fulfil the requirements to be working at all?”
“What?” Spencer gasped. “No! That’s not how it happened … sir.”
“Relax, Agent, I’m just quoting what Strauss wrote here.” Garibaldi smiled, but Spencer still felt provoked.
“It’s Doctor,” he said.
“Pardon me?”
“It’s Dr Reid, not Agent Reid,” Spencer clarified.
“Well, then, Dr Reid, tell me what really happened.”
Spencer recounted everything, quoting every one of Strauss’s words. Garibaldi asked a few questions to clarify, then said, “Well, I won’t apologise for Chief Strauss, but she was under a lot of stress due to incidents in her private life which were apparently aggravated by a flare-up of an existing substance abuse problem.”
Spencer shared a knowing glance with Hotch.
“Your file tells me you’re a good agent, you bring positive, tangible results, and you’re a real asset to the BAU. Before last week, Strauss’s evaluation of you was that nothing has changed in that regard since your, ah, de-aging and that the supervisor program should be maintained in its original form in order to ensure the continuation of these positive results.”
“We can agree with that,” Hotch put in before Spencer could explain how well he worked without a supervisor.
“Good,” Garibaldi went on. “Dr Reid, could you satisfy my curiosity as to why you refused to work with Dr Jean Nadeau despite her recommendations?”
“No, I don’t think I could, sir,” Spencer replied, a little tartly.
“That wasn’t a request, Doctor.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, sir, I thought it was a question, and I didn’t think my reason for refusing would satisfy you, sir, that’s why I said no.”
“Reid,” Hotch warned, in the voice that said don’t push it too far.
“Tell me, and that’s an order,” Garibaldi said.
Spencer’s heart sank, but he took a deep breath, avoided looking at either man, and tried to keep his voice emotionless as he recounted what Harper Hill and the others had done to him at high school. When he finished, he expected Garibaldi to react by saying how silly it was to be affected by something that had happened eighteen years before, but instead, Garibaldi leaned back in his chair and stared down at his desk for a long moment. Then he said, “Yeah. Bullies. I know the damage they can do.”
Then he visibly pulled himself together and said, “Okay, let’s all keep looking for a new supervisor, but in the meantime, you may continue working here at the Bureau if your teammates agree to take on the role. You will keep to your scheduled breaks and work hours, with somebody accompanying you at all times, and when you are not working, you will leave your desk and make it clear that you are off the clock. You will not go into the field without a supervisor. Is that clear?”
“Sir, may I say something?” Spencer asked.
“Go ahead.”
“I can work quite well without a supervisor. I take breaks by myself, a member of the team goes with me for lunch, and I can stop work at the right time without being reminded. I’d like to request a probationary period of, say, six weeks in which I prove that I can keep to the conditions without needing to be supervised every minute of the day.”
“Request denied,” Garibaldi said. “And don’t ask again.”
“Sir, if it’s about me being abducted, I was in the room with a second person, who just happened to be our technical analyst,” Spencer pointed out. “Would it have made a difference if the second person had been my supervisor? Or if the Unsub had come in and shot them both before abducting me? Just having a supervisor isn’t enough to ensure I won’t be abducted a second time.”
“No, it’s not, but it’s a start,” Garibaldi replied. “Look, having a supervisor is for your safety and ours. The Bureau is responsible for your safety while you’re working. You say you can take breaks by yourself? What if you get hurt while you’re outside alone?”
“I always have my phone with me,” Spencer said. “I could call for help, like I did when I was abducted.”
Garibaldi did not look impressed. “What if you bang your head and you’re unconscious? Or get hit by a car? Or say you twist your ankle and you’re crawling towards the building to get help. What if another employee comes along and molests you before help can arrive? Don’t think it can’t happen here, and that’s not the only thing that can. I’ve seen instructors prey on trainees, for instance, and some agents bully their subordinates or anybody else they can get away with tormenting, and we’re talking about adults here. I don’t want to be the one who gets kicked into unemployment because I said yes, an employee with the body of a five-year-old boy can take care of himself alone in an environment full of adults.”
“I never thought of being molested, sir,” Spencer admitted, realising belatedly that he should have, especially after Wagoner.
“You’re speaking from privilege, Dr Reid. You’ve got a great team here, but not everybody is so lucky. My son –“ Then he stopped. “Well, that’s neither here nor there. You will have a supervisor and you will not go anywhere alone on FBI property, not even to the bathroom. Is that clear now, Dr Reid?”
“Yes, sir,” Spencer replied.
“All right, then, here’s your badge, now get back to your desk and get to work.”
“Thank you, sir,” Spencer said, pulling off his visitor’s badge and stuffing it into his pocket, then replacing it with his real one.
“Aaron, stop by any time and we’ll catch up further,” Garibaldi said.
“I will. Great to see you again, Rob.”
When they were in the hallway, Hotch leaned down a little and Spencer braced himself for some comment on what had happened when he was twelve, but instead, the man said quietly, ”Garibaldi’s second son was bullied at school, and he killed himself when he was thirteen. There was a sexual component to some of the later incidents that they only discovered afterwards.”
“I didn’t know,” Spencer said. “I’m sorry.”
“He’s a good man. Try not to antagonise him, Spencer.”
“I won’t. And I’m sorry,” Spencer said a second time.
“You know he’s right about what could happen if you aren’t supervised. I should have given that aspect more consideration. When I think of all the things that have happened even when you did have somebody watching over you, then I can only say we’ve been incredibly lucky so far.” Hotch opened the door to the bullpen and when they’d arrived at Spencer’s desk, he said, “Maybe it’s time we told Jessica the truth, so she can take care of you if I’m ever out in the field and you’re not allowed to come. You two know each other a little better now.”
“She won’t be happy about being lied to for so long, even if it was a lie of omission.”
“I know. I should have been truthful with her from the beginning.” Hotch looked unhappy at the prospect of telling her now. “You had a good idea back then, Spencer, when you suggested somebody on medical leave. I just wish we could find somebody as suitable as Johnson was.”
“Most people aren’t on medical leave as long as she was, or else they’re in the hospital,” Spencer said. “But what about somebody who was suspended? Would they be suitable? I mean, it’s not exactly a reward, sitting around and watching me.”
“It would depend on the reason for their suspension,” Hotch mused. “But it’s an idea. We’ll talk to Garcia about the search at lunch time.”
He picked up the gift bag with the wine and the Legos and went to his office, and Spencer got back to his files, happy that Hotch had chosen not to address the bullying incident that Spencer had revealed. Hopefully, he never would. The morning passed quickly, and after lunch, he and Hotch stopped by Garcia’s office to run the new search parameters.
“It’s the happiest time of the year, sir,” Garcia said without enthusiasm. “Nobody’s on suspension. Lots of people have the flu, one agent’s in the hospital recovering from a hysterectomy, another one from some sort of major kidney infection. Sorry, Spencer.”
“Well, we don’t have to go into the field yet,” Spencer said. He hoped they wouldn’t until after Christmas.
Part 23
Part 21
Return to Criminal Minds Page
That night, Spencer had another nightmare that included a beaver form of Harper Hillman, and increasingly more terrifying dreams each night after that, even though Jonas left on Friday evening and did not come back. Each night, Spencer woke screaming and thrashing, and each time, he stayed awake a little longer before being able to settle down again, Finally, on Tuesday afternoon, Hotch called and said that the case was over, they’d caught the Unsub, and they’d be arriving that evening. Spencer was almost too impatient to wait out the day, and going to sleep was out of the question, even though it was way past his bedtime. He wanted to be wide awake for a big hug when Hotch came to pick him up.
At the time that Spencer had hoped Hotch would arrive, his phone rang. He answered it excitedly, hoping that Hotch would say he was in the parking lot already, but instead, Hotch said, “Buddy, it’s icy out here, and we had a little fender bender, so I’m going to be later than I thought.”
“No!” Spencer whined, looking around the playroom in disbelief. He’d opted to sit at the round table while waiting, with his shoes on and his coat ready, instead of laying down on the bed and risking falling asleep. “Hotch, I’m so tired of being here, I want to go home!”
“I know you do,” Hotch said. “I want to go home, too. It might take us another thirty to forty minutes, so please try to be patient.”
“The amount of patience I have is proportional to my physical age, so I’ve used it all up since I’ve been here,” Spencer told him.
“You can go to sleep if you’re tired,” Hotch said. “You won’t miss anything. I’ll wake you up when I come.”
“I’m not tired, I just want you to get here,” Spencer said.
“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Hotch promised. When he’d hung up, Spencer sank back down in his chair in disappointment. He wouldn’t cry. It was silly to cry about Hotch being late, especially if it was due to the weather. He squeezed his eyes shut, determined not to cry.
Strauss took hold of his wrist in an iron grip and led him out of the childcare centre into a corridor that led to the cell block at SHIELD, except that the cells had bars instead of the thick steel doors, and every member of his team was on the inside of the bars, standing silently and watching as Strauss pulled him along. But when he saw that Hotch was not in a cell and was standing next to an open door, Spencer stopped trying to escape Strauss’s grip and reached out with his free hand.
“Hotch!”
But although Hotch extended his arms, Spencer could tell that he didn’t have a hug in mind, that he was going to throw Spencer into the dark cell. There were horrible things in there, huge beavers, teenagers, SHIELD agents, and Wagoner, too, all waiting to attack. Panicked, Spencer fought back, kicking, hitting, and screaming, “No, Hotch, don’t leave me here!” His foot connected with something and Hotch dropped him, and it wasn’t the cell at all, it was the playroom, and --
“Don’t leave me!” Spencer sobbed, curling up to protect himself. “Hotch, don’t leave me in here with them!”
“Spencer, Spencer, it’s okay, you were dreaming.” Something touched his shoulder, and he screeched, but instead of an attack, it was a hand stroking his arm, moving to stroke his head, then moving back to his arm. Eventually, he realised it was Connie, repeating soothing words as well. “It’s all right, sweetie, it was a bad dream, everything’s okay now.”
“Hotch!” he wailed again. “Hotch!”
“I’m here, buddy,” came a familiar voice, and Spencer uncurled and looked up and over to where Hotch was standing with one hand to his face, trying to stem a nosebleed. “And I’m not leaving you anywhere.”
“Hotch!” Spencer cried again, scrambling up off the floor and lunging to throw his arms around him. “Oh, Hotch!”
“That must have been quite a nightmare,” Hotch said, and Spencer had never heard his voice sound so nasal.
“Uh huh,” he agreed.
Mina approached with a handful of tissues, and Hotch applied them gently to his nose. Mina also offered one to Spencer.
“Did I kick you?” Spencer asked, leaning back a little to look up at him while wiping his tears away. “Hotch, I’m so sorry!”
“It’s okay, buddy,” Hotch said. “I don’t think anything is broken.”
Spencer noticed he didn’t say anything about kicking like a five-year-old boy, and felt even worse. “You should sit down, you might have a concussion.”
“I’m pretty sure I could tell if I had a concussion,” Hotch said. “I do have a bit of experience, you know.”
Still sniffing a little, Spencer turned to Mina. “Do you have something cold in the kitchen? If you put something cold on the back of his neck, it will stop the bleeding.”
“Really?” she asked. “I’ll get an ice pack, then.”
“Here, Hotch, come sit down, and let me loosen your tie,” Spencer said. Hotch settled himself awkwardly in one of the small chairs at the table and allowed Spencer to work at his tie and the top button of his shirt. When Mina came back with the ice pack, Spencer put it down the back of Hotch’s shirt.
Hotch shivered at the touch, but didn’t protest, and after a moment, he took the tissue from his nose. “Huh, that really works. Where’d you read about that, Spencer?”
“Actually, there was a boy in my first grade class who was always getting nosebleeds, and my teacher used to make me take him to the school nurse. She always had an ice pack ready to use like this,” Spencer explained. “If you don’t have ice, you can use anything cold. Lots of people use their keys or the blade of a table knife. It’s the mammalian dive reflex; when the cold hits the nerves in your neck, the blood vessels constrict, and the blood is shunted away from the skin – in this case, the inside of the nose – and redirected to the vital organs.”
“Well, it seems to have done the trick,” Hotch said. He reached up and pulled the ice pack out of his shirt.
“I’m sorry, Hotch,” Spencer said again, looking at the mark on Hotch’s face that would turn into a bruise. “It was such a scary dream.”
“Well, you’ve made up for it with this,” Hotch asked, indicating the ice pack and then gingerly applying it to his face. “But, Spencer, why didn’t you tell me you’ve been having nightmares since you’ve been here?”
So, he’d been talking to the caretakers before waking Spencer up, and had probably found out about the biting, and the loss of Spencer’s paper, and everything else that Spencer hadn’t mentioned.
“Because there’s nothing you could have done,” Spencer said, and before Hotch could point out that Spencer could have called him, he added, “And you had enough to worry about with Jack and Jessica.”
Hotch looked like he wanted to say something, but changed his mind at the last minute. Instead, he smiled a quick, sad smile and said, “Come on, buddy, let’s get you home.”
+++++
21 December 2011
Spencer opened his eyes and looked around the familiar bedroom with a deep sense of relief. It was so good to be back. There was movement in the top bunk, and then Jack came down the ladder. He stopped and leaned closer to Spencer, and when he saw that Spencer was awake, he grinned. “Hey, I missed you! Where were you?”
“Um, I had to go stay with a special substitute nanny for a few days.”
“Did you have fun? Jessica and me went to the movies on Saturday, it was really fun. We had popcorn and Coke – but don’t tell Dad, he doesn’t let me have Coke.”
“I think it’s time for breakfast,” Spencer said, not wanting to admit that the only fun he’d had in childcare was when he’d made a Christmas card for his mother with potato stamps and paint. He got out of bed and started dressing while Jack ran to the bathroom, then went into the kitchen. “Morning, Hotch.”
“Hey, Spencer, how’d you sleep?”
“I didn’t have any nightmares,” he said. “Not that I remember, anyway.”
“That’s good. I’m glad,” Hotch said.
“How’s your face?” Spencer looked up at the bruise spreading over Hotch’s left cheek.
“It’s fine.”
Jack came in just then. “Dad, you’re coming to my Christmas concert to-morrow, right?”
“If I’m here, I’ll definitely be coming,” Hotch said. “But you know that I might have to go out on a case at any time.”
“Even at Christmas?” Jack asked. “Would you have to work on Christmas, Dad?”
“If I’m home on a holiday like Christmas, I don’t have to go to the office, but if I’m out somewhere trying to catch the bad guys –“
“The Unsubs, Dad!” Jack was obviously proud of his recently acquired vocabulary.
“—the Unsubs, then I can’t take a break, because the Unsubs aren’t taking a break, either.”
“Christmas can be the worst time for Unsubs, it can bring out the worst in them. They might hate the holidays,” Spencer put in, and Jack stared at him, completely flummoxed by the idea. “What? But everybody loves Christmas!”
“Not everybody,” said Hotch. “A lot of times, the Unsubs don’t have a happy family like we do, Jack. Holidays can be hard for them because sometimes bad things happen even though they were hoping for good things, and so they don’t always have good memories.”
Jack thought about the concept while he ate, then said, “Spencer, you know how you have to live with us because your mom is in a special hospital and can’t take care of you?”
“Yeah,” Spencer said slowly.
“So you don’t really have a happy family like me and Dad,” Jack went on.
“Just because my mother is in a special hospital doesn’t mean we aren’t happy,” Spencer said. “She loves me, and I love her, and we’ve always tried to do what’s best for each other.“
“So … you do have good memories of Christmas?” Jack asked.
“Yeah,” Spencer said. Some of his memories were good, anyway. And then he realised where Jack was taking the conversation, and said, “Jack, are you asking if I’m going to become an Unsub because I’m not with my mom right now? Because the answer is no, I’m not. You and your dad are like – um, being here with you is like – well, it‘s enough to give me good memories.”
“Okay, that’s good.” Jack looked relieved. “Because then Dad would have to hunt you down, and he’d catch you, because he’s really good at his job, and then you’d go to jail, and I wouldn’t want that.”
“I wouldn’t want to go to jail, either,” Spencer said, glancing over to Hotch, who looked touched and slightly chagrined as well. “And you’re right, your dad’s the best. I wouldn’t want him hunting me if I were an Unsub.”
“You’re going to be with us for Christmas, right? Dad said you were. It’ll be way fun! Dad and I already went shopping to get you –“
“Jack, it’s supposed to be a surprise, remember?” Hotch warned.
“I wasn’t going to tell him what we bought, Dad! I was just going to say presents. And Santa will bring him something nice, too. Spencer wrote a list for him, but he wouldn’t let me see it, so it’ll be a surprise for him, and for me, too.”
“Okay, buddy, if you’re done eating, then it’s time to go,” Hotch announced. “It’s not Christmas yet, and you still have school.”
“Christmas is way more fun than school,” Jack grumbled. “We’re probably just going to rehearse for the Christmas concert again, but I know all the songs already. You’re coming to the concert, too, right, Spencer?”
“If your dad’s here to take me, I’ll definitely come,” Spencer said.
They drove Jack to school, and then continued on to the BAU. Spencer sat quietly in the back seat, thinking about how close he’d come to admitting that he saw Hotch as part of his family, not simply as a father-figure, but as a father. He hadn’t spent quite enough time with Jack to regard him as a brother – although he was close – but Hotch was definitely the dad he wished he’d always had. Spencer just couldn’t admit it – not just yet. It might remind Hotch of his willingness to adopt Spencer, and Spencer wasn’t ready to seriously discuss taking that step. He still thought of himself as an adult, and being adopted by Hotch would only confirm his child status to the world. Despite the official SHIELD declaration, he was still holding out hope for a re-aging machine. He also hoped that Jack wouldn’t get too attached to young Spencer, so that he wouldn’t miss him too much when he disappeared.
At the BAU, Spencer had to get a visitor’s badge because Strauss had taken his. And when they arrived at the bullpen, Garcia came out of her office with a gift bag in one hand. “Hi, Spencer, welcome back to the world of adults. Sir! What happened to your face?”
“Spencer kicked me by accident during a nightmare,” Hotch explained.
“Ouch! That must have been a really bad dream. But, um, maybe this will help you feel better. Not that I looked deliberately, it was already open. It’s from an Agent Grant, she came by yesterday and left this for you as an apology.”
She handed over the gift bag, and Hotch said, “Agent Grant?”
“Renee Grant, from counterterrorism. There’s a note, see?”
Hotch opened the folded piece of paper attached to the handle of the bag and read aloud, “To Agent Hotchner and Spencer, please accept this heartfelt apology for my son biting your son. We’re so sorry. Renee and Jonas Grant.”
“Somebody bit Jack?” Emily asked, having come up from behind.
“Somebody bit you?” Hotch asked at the same time, looking down at Spencer in alarm.
“Didn’t they tell you that, down in childcare?” Spencer asked.
“No, and neither did you,” Hotch remarked.
Spencer looked briefly away. “You had enough to worry about.”
“Is that how your hand got hurt?”
Spencer held it out. The bite wound was healing nicely – he was surprised that Hotch had noticed. “Um, yeah. What’s in the bag?“
Hotch pulled out a bottle of red wine, a bar of expensive chocolate, and a medium-sized box of Legos which he handed to Spencer. “I think these are for you.”
The box showed something to do with Captain America and SHIELD, which made Spencer wince inwardly. “I’ll swap you for the chocolate. I’m sure Jack would appreciate this more than I would.”
“That’s a pretty big apology,” Emily said, looking appreciatively at the wine as Hotch and Spencer exchanged gifts.
Spencer wondered if Jonas’ mother spent all her time feeling as though she had to apologise to everybody about her son. He remembered how his own father had wanted him to at least appear less cerebral and more ‘normal.’ In comparison, Hotch and JJ never had to apologise for their children being what they were and were instead always ready to say how proud they felt of their offspring. The differences made him feel vaguely sad.
Out loud, Spencer said, “Jonas is probably somewhere on the autism spectrum and spends all his time pretending to be a beaver. I wish he’d chosen to be a seahorse instead; they don’t have teeth. I thought he was going to bite my thumb off the second time.”
“The second time?” Emily asked with a grimace. “Where’d he get you the first time?”
“My leg.”
“Spencer, you darling little cinnamon roll that’s been chomped on twice!” Garcia exclaimed. “I offered to break you out of there, why didn’t you take me up on it instead of hunkering down like that guy on the toilet in Jurassic Park?”
Spencer had no idea what she was referring to, but he did know his own reasons for not trying to escape childcare. “Because Strauss had already suspended me, and she might have suspended you, too. And I didn’t want to risk losing my job completely, either. I mean, normally I’d know I could go into teaching or consultancy or anything else right away, but now – “
He indicated his younger self, then said, “And speaking of Strauss, Hotch, can we get my badge back?”
“Yes, we can do that,” Hotch said.
“Oh, sir, Strauss isn’t here anymore,” Garcia said. “She’s on leave for an unspecified amount of time, if you know what I mean.”
“Is she in a treatment program?” Spencer asked, remembering the smell of alcohol on Strauss’s breath.
“Winner, winner, chicken dinner!” Garcia exclaimed. “She’s apparently been having trouble ever since she found out her son was following in her alcoholic footsteps, and it all got worse when she tried to get him into a treatment program and he ran away. Last I’ve heard, he’s still in the wind.”
“I thought it might be her son,” Hotch said quietly, almost to himself. Spencer nodded, and even though he didn’t like Strauss all that much, he could still imagine her guilt and anguish at her son’s behaviour.
“So anyway, we have a new Section Chief, a Robert Garibaldi. I told him you’d be back to-day.”
“Rob Garibaldi? We worked together in the field office in Seattle; I didn’t know he was in Quantico,” Hotch said, and there was a note of pleasant surprise in his voice. He put the wine and the box of Legos back in the bag, then set it on Spencer’s desk. “It’ll be good to catch up with him.”
He led the way and Spencer went after him. The door to Strauss’s office was open, and Spencer could see that her name plate had been removed, but nothing had replaced it yet. Hotch knocked and stepped in.
“Rob!”
“Aaron!” The man behind the desk, tall and broad, stood up and came around for a manly hug. When he pulled back, though, he said, “I was sorry to hear about Haley. Are you doing all right?”
“Thanks, yeah. You’re still together with Karen? How are the kids?” At Garibaldi’s affirmative nod, Hotch went on, “Rob, this is Dr Spencer Reid.”
“Oh, I’ve just been reading about you,” Garibaldi replied. Spencer gave him a wave, but Garibaldi put out his hand anyway, lifting his eyebrows when Spencer did not reciprocate.
“It’s all true, sir,” Spencer said, thinking he meant the de-aging.
“Sir down.” As they did so, Garibaldi lifted a file from his desk. “It’s all true? You really were insubordinate to Strauss, refused to act in accordance to the conditions she’d set out, rejected the supervisor that she appointed, then deliberately went behind her back in an attempt to continue working on a case although she had revoked her permission because you did not fulfil the requirements to be working at all?”
“What?” Spencer gasped. “No! That’s not how it happened … sir.”
“Relax, Agent, I’m just quoting what Strauss wrote here.” Garibaldi smiled, but Spencer still felt provoked.
“It’s Doctor,” he said.
“Pardon me?”
“It’s Dr Reid, not Agent Reid,” Spencer clarified.
“Well, then, Dr Reid, tell me what really happened.”
Spencer recounted everything, quoting every one of Strauss’s words. Garibaldi asked a few questions to clarify, then said, “Well, I won’t apologise for Chief Strauss, but she was under a lot of stress due to incidents in her private life which were apparently aggravated by a flare-up of an existing substance abuse problem.”
Spencer shared a knowing glance with Hotch.
“Your file tells me you’re a good agent, you bring positive, tangible results, and you’re a real asset to the BAU. Before last week, Strauss’s evaluation of you was that nothing has changed in that regard since your, ah, de-aging and that the supervisor program should be maintained in its original form in order to ensure the continuation of these positive results.”
“We can agree with that,” Hotch put in before Spencer could explain how well he worked without a supervisor.
“Good,” Garibaldi went on. “Dr Reid, could you satisfy my curiosity as to why you refused to work with Dr Jean Nadeau despite her recommendations?”
“No, I don’t think I could, sir,” Spencer replied, a little tartly.
“That wasn’t a request, Doctor.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, sir, I thought it was a question, and I didn’t think my reason for refusing would satisfy you, sir, that’s why I said no.”
“Reid,” Hotch warned, in the voice that said don’t push it too far.
“Tell me, and that’s an order,” Garibaldi said.
Spencer’s heart sank, but he took a deep breath, avoided looking at either man, and tried to keep his voice emotionless as he recounted what Harper Hill and the others had done to him at high school. When he finished, he expected Garibaldi to react by saying how silly it was to be affected by something that had happened eighteen years before, but instead, Garibaldi leaned back in his chair and stared down at his desk for a long moment. Then he said, “Yeah. Bullies. I know the damage they can do.”
Then he visibly pulled himself together and said, “Okay, let’s all keep looking for a new supervisor, but in the meantime, you may continue working here at the Bureau if your teammates agree to take on the role. You will keep to your scheduled breaks and work hours, with somebody accompanying you at all times, and when you are not working, you will leave your desk and make it clear that you are off the clock. You will not go into the field without a supervisor. Is that clear?”
“Sir, may I say something?” Spencer asked.
“Go ahead.”
“I can work quite well without a supervisor. I take breaks by myself, a member of the team goes with me for lunch, and I can stop work at the right time without being reminded. I’d like to request a probationary period of, say, six weeks in which I prove that I can keep to the conditions without needing to be supervised every minute of the day.”
“Request denied,” Garibaldi said. “And don’t ask again.”
“Sir, if it’s about me being abducted, I was in the room with a second person, who just happened to be our technical analyst,” Spencer pointed out. “Would it have made a difference if the second person had been my supervisor? Or if the Unsub had come in and shot them both before abducting me? Just having a supervisor isn’t enough to ensure I won’t be abducted a second time.”
“No, it’s not, but it’s a start,” Garibaldi replied. “Look, having a supervisor is for your safety and ours. The Bureau is responsible for your safety while you’re working. You say you can take breaks by yourself? What if you get hurt while you’re outside alone?”
“I always have my phone with me,” Spencer said. “I could call for help, like I did when I was abducted.”
Garibaldi did not look impressed. “What if you bang your head and you’re unconscious? Or get hit by a car? Or say you twist your ankle and you’re crawling towards the building to get help. What if another employee comes along and molests you before help can arrive? Don’t think it can’t happen here, and that’s not the only thing that can. I’ve seen instructors prey on trainees, for instance, and some agents bully their subordinates or anybody else they can get away with tormenting, and we’re talking about adults here. I don’t want to be the one who gets kicked into unemployment because I said yes, an employee with the body of a five-year-old boy can take care of himself alone in an environment full of adults.”
“I never thought of being molested, sir,” Spencer admitted, realising belatedly that he should have, especially after Wagoner.
“You’re speaking from privilege, Dr Reid. You’ve got a great team here, but not everybody is so lucky. My son –“ Then he stopped. “Well, that’s neither here nor there. You will have a supervisor and you will not go anywhere alone on FBI property, not even to the bathroom. Is that clear now, Dr Reid?”
“Yes, sir,” Spencer replied.
“All right, then, here’s your badge, now get back to your desk and get to work.”
“Thank you, sir,” Spencer said, pulling off his visitor’s badge and stuffing it into his pocket, then replacing it with his real one.
“Aaron, stop by any time and we’ll catch up further,” Garibaldi said.
“I will. Great to see you again, Rob.”
When they were in the hallway, Hotch leaned down a little and Spencer braced himself for some comment on what had happened when he was twelve, but instead, the man said quietly, ”Garibaldi’s second son was bullied at school, and he killed himself when he was thirteen. There was a sexual component to some of the later incidents that they only discovered afterwards.”
“I didn’t know,” Spencer said. “I’m sorry.”
“He’s a good man. Try not to antagonise him, Spencer.”
“I won’t. And I’m sorry,” Spencer said a second time.
“You know he’s right about what could happen if you aren’t supervised. I should have given that aspect more consideration. When I think of all the things that have happened even when you did have somebody watching over you, then I can only say we’ve been incredibly lucky so far.” Hotch opened the door to the bullpen and when they’d arrived at Spencer’s desk, he said, “Maybe it’s time we told Jessica the truth, so she can take care of you if I’m ever out in the field and you’re not allowed to come. You two know each other a little better now.”
“She won’t be happy about being lied to for so long, even if it was a lie of omission.”
“I know. I should have been truthful with her from the beginning.” Hotch looked unhappy at the prospect of telling her now. “You had a good idea back then, Spencer, when you suggested somebody on medical leave. I just wish we could find somebody as suitable as Johnson was.”
“Most people aren’t on medical leave as long as she was, or else they’re in the hospital,” Spencer said. “But what about somebody who was suspended? Would they be suitable? I mean, it’s not exactly a reward, sitting around and watching me.”
“It would depend on the reason for their suspension,” Hotch mused. “But it’s an idea. We’ll talk to Garcia about the search at lunch time.”
He picked up the gift bag with the wine and the Legos and went to his office, and Spencer got back to his files, happy that Hotch had chosen not to address the bullying incident that Spencer had revealed. Hopefully, he never would. The morning passed quickly, and after lunch, he and Hotch stopped by Garcia’s office to run the new search parameters.
“It’s the happiest time of the year, sir,” Garcia said without enthusiasm. “Nobody’s on suspension. Lots of people have the flu, one agent’s in the hospital recovering from a hysterectomy, another one from some sort of major kidney infection. Sorry, Spencer.”
“Well, we don’t have to go into the field yet,” Spencer said. He hoped they wouldn’t until after Christmas.
Part 23
Part 21
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