Second Childhood
Part 24
In the morning, Spencer was awakened by a thump as Jack leaped out of the top bunk and hollered excitedly, “It’s Christmas! Wake up, everybody, it’s Christmas!”
Spencer sat up without enthusiasm and followed Jack more slowly to the living room where Jack suddenly caught sight of who was sitting on the couch, and squealed, “Dad!”
Following his gaze, Spencer also exclaimed, “Hotch!”
Hotch must have come in sometime in the early hours; he was still dressed in his suit and tie, and his coat was draped over his go-bag on the floor nearby. Now he stood up and caught Jack up into a hug. “Jack! Merry Christmas!”
“I didn’t think you’d be here, Dad!” Jack exclaimed.
“I didn’t think so, either, but sometimes miracles happen,” Hotch replied, then put Jack down and extended his arms. “Spencer’s turn.”
Spencer went over for a hug, too. “Merry Christmas, Hotch. Did you get everybody back alive?”
“Yes, we did—“ Hotch started, but Jack had already grabbed the first present. “Here, Spencer, this one’s for you!”
Curious as to what book Hotch had picked out for him, Spencer undid the wrapping and read the title. “The Kids’ Guide to Jumping Rope.”
“Cool!” Jack exclaimed.
“Thank you, Hotch,” Spencer said, thumbing through to look at some of the pictures and suggestions of fun things kids could do with a jump rope. He thought he might even be able to manage a few of them.
“Now it’s my turn,” Jack said, grabbing his own box and ripping the paper off. They went back and forth until everything had been opened, admired, and displayed. Along with the jump rope book, Spencer had also got his own jump rope with blue handles, a kit to make his own sour candy, a box of Legos, a 3-D puzzle with LED lights, and a few children’s books. Spencer could see at once that everything had been selected to either include Jack immediately, or for Jack to inherit once Spencer had been re-aged.
Spencer handed around the presents he had bought for the family. Jack was excited about the Sword-Swinging Cat book that Spencer had picked out, and Jessica seemed pleased enough with her gift certificate for a book store, but Hotch looked at the package of different coloured plastic balls in faint confusion. Spencer said, “It’s a game you can play with Jack when you go swimming. It’s called Ping Pong Pals in the Pool. You scatter the pals around in the water, and then Jack swims around and gathers them all up. I drew faces on them if you want to play the simple version, but there are also numbers on each ball if you want the more advanced version where he has to bring them back in order. Or Jack can throw the balls so you can swim around and catch them.”
“Oh!” Hotch looked more appreciative. “Thank you, Spencer, that’s a great idea.”
“Can we go try them out now, Dad?” Jack reached over and grabbed the package for a closer look. “These are funny faces!”
“I don’t think any swimming pools are open to-day because it’s Christmas,” Hotch said, and Jack drooped slightly. “But I can check what’s open to-morrow, and we’ll try to get in then, okay, buddy?”
“Yay! Spencer and I can see who can get the most balls the fastest! And then we can throw the balls for Dad to get!” Jack declared, and Spencer felt pleasantly surprised about being included.
Jessica left after that, saying she had to visit her father. In the afternoon, while Jack was playing and Hotch was sitting on the couch watching him and trying hard not to fall asleep, Spencer said, “Hotch, can you help me call my mom?”
“Sure, buddy,” Hotch said. “What do you need help with?”
“Can we go into the bedroom?” Spencer asked. He didn’t want Jack to overhear.
Hotch got up and followed him through the apartment. Once they were behind the closed door, Spencer said, “Can you call her up and tell her I’ve been injured and I can’t talk, but I want to wish her a merry Christmas anyway?”
“You don’t want to try speaking to her at all?” Hotch asked
Remembering the Thanksgiving fiasco, Spencer shook his head. “You can tell her I got hit in the throat by an Unsub and I’m here next to you, writing stuff down for you to read to her, but I have to protect my vocal cords or there could be permanent damage.”
“Okay.”
“I hate lying to her like this, but I don’t know what else to do.” Spencer sighed.
“You just do the best you can, Spencer,” Hotch said, and laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
Spencer laid out his paper and pen, ready to go, then got his phone, put it on speaker, and dialled. Finally, his mother answered with an annoyed-sounding, “Hello!”
“Mrs Reid? My name is Aaron Hotchner, I work with your son, Spencer,” Hotch said.
“Spencer? Is he all right?” his mother asked.
“He got hit in the throat and can’t speak –“ Hotch began.
“Well, send him home, then. He doesn’t need to be in school anyway. Such a smart kid – he probably knows more than you do,” his mother said.
Hotch looked over to Spencer for a hint as to how to procede, and Spencer quickly wrote down not school, FBI!
“Spencer works for the FBI now, Mrs Reid. Remember? He’s not at school anymore,” Hotch tried to explain.
“My son works for the government? Why? Did you take him prisoner, force him into employment because of his brain?”
Spencer sighed, and shook his head vigorously at Hotch. Mom was obviously having one of her bad days.
“No, we did not force him into anything, Mrs Reid. He chose to work with us.”
Spencer wrote down two questions, and Hotch passed them on. “How are you doing, Mrs Reid? Are you getting Spencer’s letters?”
“Oh, yes, Spencer writes all the time. He even sent me a Christmas card that he made himself. I need to write back or he’ll think the government finally got me.”
“And how are you doing?” Hotch pressed. Spencer wrote medications and side effects on his paper and Hotch asked, “How are you doing with your medications? Any side effects?”
“Same old meds, same old side effects,” his mother replied. “Not that I would tell you if anything were different. You never know who’s listening.”
Spencer decided it was time to end the conversation. He wrote a few last words, and Hotch relayed them. “Spencer wants to wish you a merry Christmas, Mrs Reid.”
“Well, tell him merry Christmas from me,” his mother said.
“He’s right here, he can hear you, he just can’t talk,” Hotch explained.
“Merry Christmas!” his mother shouted. “And to all you government spies who are listening, I hope you choke on your eggnog and get run over by reindeer! At the same time!”
After Hotch had hung up, he looked quizzically over to Spencer, who was too embarrassed to meet his eyes but mumbled, “That’s usually how it goes. I just wanted to hear her voice.”
“It’s okay, Spencer,” Hotch said.
They were interrupted in the next moment by Jack throwing open the door and saying, “Dad, look!”
He’d pulled on a sweatshirt from his Christmas stash and stuck out his arms to show how the sleeves didn’t even cover his wrists. “This is too small!”
“Looks like it’s time to see how much you’ve grown,” Hotch said. “I’ll get the tape measure.”
He went to look in the drawers of his desk, and when he came back with the necessary equipment, he steered Jack to a bare section of wall.
“You’re not standing on tiptoes, are you?” he teased. “Don’t stretch your neck like that, either, you’re not a Christmas turkey.”
When Jack was just right, Hotch balanced a ruler on top of his head and used a pencil to mark where it hit the wall. After measuring it from the floor, he announced, “Wow, you’ve really shot up, buddy! Looks like Santa will need to get you a new sweatshirt in a bigger size.”
“But Santa won’t come again for a whole year!” Jack exclaimed.
“Well, maybe I can get you one instead,” Hotch said. “I’m sure Santa wouldn’t mind if I helped him out.”
“We can give this one to Spencer,” Jack suggested, already pulling it off. “He didn’t get any clothes for Christmas, or anything with Cats, either!”
Would they really expect him to wear that? Spencer glanced at Hotch in horror, but Jack was already eagerly thrusting it at him. “Try it on!”
He gritted his teeth mentally and tried it on.
“Well, Spencer, there’s plenty of room for you to grow into it, but you don’t have to keep it if you don’t like it,” Hotch said.
Spencer shook his head a little, hoping Jack wouldn’t notice. Jack, however, had focused on the word ‘grow,’ and now he told Hotch, “You should measure Spencer, too.”
Spencer backed up against the wall and held his head level for the ruler. When Hotch announced his height, however, he felt his shoulders slump. “What? But that’s the same as when I was measured at SH – at – in September.”
“That’s only been about three months.” Hotch tried to console him. “You might have a growth spurt soon.”
Or he might not have a growth spurt at all. What if he stayed exactly the same forever – or at least until the re-aging machine was finished? Or what if SHIELD had been right, the project really was cancelled, and the re-aging machine never got built? What if he never grew up and stayed looking like a child? What if he was never able to contact his mother directly again? Worst of all, what if he ended up needing a supervisor for the rest of his life?
“Don’t worry, Spencer,” Jack said, attempting to console him. “I’m supposed to be bigger than you, because I’m older. And I’m like your big brother now.”
“You won’t stay small forever,” Hotch added.
“You don’t know that,” Spencer stated. His voice wobbled a little because he was close to tears – again! “You don’t know – what if I stay this way forever? What if I die of old age but I still look like this?”
“Can you die of old age when you’re five?” Jack asked.
Sniffing, Spencer started to answer the question automatically, even though it had nothing to do with why he was so afraid. “Actually, there’s this rare genetic condition called progeria, where children’s bodies age so rapidly that –“
“Spencer!” Hotch cut in firmly. “The answer is no, Jack, you cannot die of old age when you’re five. You have to be at least eighty to die of old age. And, Spencer, you will not stay this way forever. You’ll be growing out of your clothes soon enough. You just have to be patient and wait.”
“But I want to grow up right now! And I don’t want to be patient! I’m tired of waiting! I want to be able to visit my mom again, and talk to her and – and do other stuff –” His voice failed him and he bit his lip to keep from crying.
“I know you do,” Hotch said. He reached out and pulled Spencer into a hug. “I know it’s hard.”
Spencer hugged back, and the tears came. He jerked in surprise when he felt Jack hug him from behind.
“I’m sorry you’re sad,” Jack said. “I miss my mom sometimes, too.”
“Thanks,” Spencer sobbed.
After a few moments, Hotch said, “Jack, why don’t you go read that new book that Spencer got you?”
“Okay,” Jack said, and went off. Hotch led Spencer to the bottom bunk and they sat down together.
“Hotch?” Spencer asked when he’d stopped crying enough to talk. “Do you think I’m turning into a child?”
“What?” Hotch asked. “No, of course not. Why do you ask?”
“Not just because I cry all the time and have lots of nightmares, but … I feel like I’ve been acting like a child lately.”
“I haven’t noticed anything radically different,” Hotch said.
“Well, when Jessica shouted at me the other day, I was really scared,” Spencer admitted.
“Jessica shouted at you? When?”
“Friday.” Spencer reported what had happened. “I usually wouldn’t forget when someone tells me something like that, but it just went completely out of my mind. Just like a child! And I was scared she was going to hit me, because she sounded so angry.”
“You don’t have to be a child to be frightened of someone,” Hotch said. “That’s a perfectly normal reaction to a situation like that, and maybe you still have a little PTSD because of what happened in Oklahoma.”
“Yeah,” Spencer agreed. “Maybe. But the forgetting, Hotch! Children focus on their own needs, whether real or perceived, and in a situation where they have to decide whether to satisfy those needs, or remember what their parents told them not to do, they go with their needs. And that’s exactly what I did. I wanted to be active and have fun, so I did, and I completely forgot to be quiet, like Jessica told me. I’m turning into a child!”
“I don’t think you are,” Hotch said. “I think you’re in a child’s body that you can’t control with your intellect alone. I’ve said it before, and I still think that you’re doing your best in a very difficult situation that none of us completely understand. It’s okay if you make mistakes – no, that’s the wrong word. They aren’t mistakes. It’s okay if you react differently now because you have a different body with different needs. It’s okay if you need to move around more, or you need more sleep, or whatever.”
“You know, technically I’ve spent more of my life as a child and a teenager than as an adult, so I should know more about being a child than being an adult,” Spencer said. “But I don’t. I still feel like an adult up here, in my mind. But then I cry all the time –”
“Not all the time, Spencer,” Hotch assured him. “And when you do, you have a good reason.”
“—and I have nightmares all the time, and –“ he screwed up his courage and admitted it in a rapid gush of words – “and I want hugs all the time.”
“Why do you think that’s a bad thing?” Hotch asked. “Adults hug, too.”
Spencer looked away and fidgeted. “Yeah. I’m an adult, I should be wanting the kind of hugs that adults – especially husbands and wives – give each other. But, um, I want the reassurance and the comfort and – and the love that comes when a parent hugs a child. After a nightmare, or when I’ve been crying, it’s all I can think about …”
“I think most people want that kind of comfort, too, no matter how old they are,” Hotch said. “I don’t think it means you’re turning into a child.”
“It’s not just hugs, Hotch. Sometimes I like playing, too. Jumping on the bed, running around, swinging on the swings. And when I made that Christmas card for my mom while I was in childcare, it was actually kind of fun!”
“You only like it sometimes?” Hotch queried. “Or do you only let yourself like it sometimes?”
Spencer looked away again. “I’ve been letting myself like it more and more lately, and that’s the problem! I got so into it when I was jumping off the bed that I completely forgot about being well-behaved for Jessica.”
“I’m not a psychologist, but I get the feeling you’re afraid simply because you actually like being a child sometimes,” Hotch mused.
“Whenever I act like a child, it means I’m not acting like an adult,” Spencer explained. “And if I like being a child, I might act like a child more and more often, and what if I stay that way when I get turned back into an adult?”
“Spencer,” Hotch said, “after three months of observing you after your de-aging, it’s my professional opinion as a profiler that you’ll act like an adult again. But I can continue to observe you, and if I see that something in your behaviour changes for the worse, I promise I will tell you. In the meantime, however, I also think you have the best of both worlds; times when you can be a child, and times when you can be an adult. Okay?”
“Okay,” Spencer said. He felt better knowing that Hotch would keep an eye on him. It was better to have an objective observer, not just his own subjective feelings. “Thanks, Hotch. I appreciate it.”
“All right, then, let me give you a hug, and then we’ll go back out and make sure Jack hasn’t gotten up to any mischief while he’s been alone.” Hotch stood up and extended his arms, and Spencer hugged back with a relieved smile.
+++++
2 January 2012
Hotch had taken the week off between Christmas and New Year’s Day. On Monday, the day after Christmas, he took Jack and Spencer to the swimming pool, as promised. On Wednesday, they went to the National Zoo, and on Friday, they participated in a holiday plant hunt at the U.S. Botanic Garden and viewed the spectacular exhibition of Season’s Greenings. In between, they had fun at home. They made sour candy from the kit Spencer had got, which led to them also learning to boil eggs, make Jello, and helping to make pancakes as well. After Hotch accidentally vacuumed up the most important Lego piece from Jack’s building, they carefully dissected the vacuum bag to find it again. Spencer showed them how to make a Y-shaped cut like a real dissection. Along with playing games and completing puzzles, Spencer and Jack both practised with Spencer’s new jump rope, and every day they had half an hour where they just sat around and read. Spencer let himself enjoy it all, especially the part where Jack went off to Paul’s birthday party and left him alone with Hotch, but he was also relieved when it was finally January and he could go back to work and be around adults again.
“Good morning, Dr Reid, join us in the conference room, please.”
Spencer glanced up from the file he had just started to review and saw Garibaldi and a woman with a visitor’s pass strolling past his desk. He got down from his chair and followed them up the steps. Once they were in the conference room sitting around the table, Garibaldi said, “This is my wife, Karen. I know it’s a bit unorthodox, but you need a supervisor and she’s out of a job at the moment, so if you don’t have any objections, she’s ready to help out.”
“Hello, Dr Reid,” Mrs Garibaldi said. She was just barely grandmother age, slightly plump and with a quirk to her lips that made it seem as though she would start to smile at any moment. “You can call me Karen if you like.”
“Hello,” he said back. “You can call me Spencer.”
“Well, tell me all about the job, Spencer,” she said.
“For you, it would be mostly just sitting around and waiting.” Spencer described his daily routines for the office and the field, and added, “My old supervisor, Ally, had lots of ideas for games and physical activities for me, including swimming if there’s a pool in the hotel.”
“I think I can handle that,” Karen said. “In between all the fun stuff, do I have to keep an eye on you every minute, or do I just have to be nearby?”
“It would be both weird and unnecessary if you stared at me the whole time,” Spencer said. “Ally was teaching herself Arabic in between my breaks.”
“Oh, good, so I can get out my laptop and read or write, or whatever?” She lifted up the case she was carrying.
“Yes.” In the hopes that he would find it interesting, he asked, “What are you writing?”
“A romance novel,” she said, and when Spencer grimaced, she laughed. “You don’t have to read it. My husband doesn’t like romances, either. Do you think you can work with me, anyway? Despite the romance?”
“Yeah, I think I can,” said Spencer.
“Then you start now, Karen,” Garibaldi said. “Don’t let him go anywhere alone. Take him to the women’s bathroom if he has to go.”
“What?” Spencer exclaimed. “Hotch or Morgan or Rossi can take me if I’m really not allowed to go to the bathroom by myself.”
“You’re not,” Garibaldi snapped. “And I don’t care if you go to the men’s room, the women’s room, the handicapped toilet, or the cat litter box, just make sure you have someone inside with you.”
“Well, that cuts out the cat litter box, then, I’m not sure we’d both fit,” Karen replied, and when her husband glared, she added, “A touch of humour doesn’t mean I’m not taking this seriously, Rob. Now, Spencer, do I get a desk, or should I just stay here and keep an eye on you through the window?”
“Ally’s desk is still there,” Spencer said. “I can show you.”
“Thank you. Have a nice day, Rob. I guess I’ll see you if I need to get my go-bag out of your office, or when we get home. Spencer, I’ll just tell Aaron that I’m here, and then you can point me to my desk.”
Spencer looked politely away while Karen and Rob kissed, then led Karen along the mezzanine to Hotch’s office.
“Agent Hotchner!” Karen exclaimed, strolling in. “I want to report a blatant case of nepotism here in the FBI!”
Hotch started in surprise. “Karen?”
“Agent Garibaldi has just appointed his wife – his wife, who isn’t even an agent -- to a supervisory position inside the Bureau,” she went on.
Spencer saw Hotch’s alarm fade instantly to a pleased smile. “A supervisory position? The position that involves Dr Reid?”
“That’s the one.” She grinned. “If I can’t be a children’s librarian – because of those thrice-cursed budget cuts – I might as well be a librarian of children, so to speak. Starting with this one.”
“That’s wonderful, I’m so glad to hear it,” Hotch said, including Spencer in his gaze of approval.
“It’s good to see you again, Aaron,” Karen said. “I was sorry to hear about Haley, how are you and Jack holding up?”
“We’re doing well,” Hotch replied easily. “Jack just started school this year, and Haley’s sister Jessica helps take care of him when I’m not there.”
“Watch out, he’ll be grown up before you know it, and working halfway across the country,” Karen teased.
Hotch started to say something, but Spencer’s phone alarm went off just then, and he pulled it out. “Break time. Now we have to go outside and play.”
“Heigh ho, heigh ho, it’s off to work I go,” Karen said. “I’ll catch you later, Aaron. Lead the way, Spencer.”
Part 25
Part 23
Return to Criminal Minds page
Spencer sat up without enthusiasm and followed Jack more slowly to the living room where Jack suddenly caught sight of who was sitting on the couch, and squealed, “Dad!”
Following his gaze, Spencer also exclaimed, “Hotch!”
Hotch must have come in sometime in the early hours; he was still dressed in his suit and tie, and his coat was draped over his go-bag on the floor nearby. Now he stood up and caught Jack up into a hug. “Jack! Merry Christmas!”
“I didn’t think you’d be here, Dad!” Jack exclaimed.
“I didn’t think so, either, but sometimes miracles happen,” Hotch replied, then put Jack down and extended his arms. “Spencer’s turn.”
Spencer went over for a hug, too. “Merry Christmas, Hotch. Did you get everybody back alive?”
“Yes, we did—“ Hotch started, but Jack had already grabbed the first present. “Here, Spencer, this one’s for you!”
Curious as to what book Hotch had picked out for him, Spencer undid the wrapping and read the title. “The Kids’ Guide to Jumping Rope.”
“Cool!” Jack exclaimed.
“Thank you, Hotch,” Spencer said, thumbing through to look at some of the pictures and suggestions of fun things kids could do with a jump rope. He thought he might even be able to manage a few of them.
“Now it’s my turn,” Jack said, grabbing his own box and ripping the paper off. They went back and forth until everything had been opened, admired, and displayed. Along with the jump rope book, Spencer had also got his own jump rope with blue handles, a kit to make his own sour candy, a box of Legos, a 3-D puzzle with LED lights, and a few children’s books. Spencer could see at once that everything had been selected to either include Jack immediately, or for Jack to inherit once Spencer had been re-aged.
Spencer handed around the presents he had bought for the family. Jack was excited about the Sword-Swinging Cat book that Spencer had picked out, and Jessica seemed pleased enough with her gift certificate for a book store, but Hotch looked at the package of different coloured plastic balls in faint confusion. Spencer said, “It’s a game you can play with Jack when you go swimming. It’s called Ping Pong Pals in the Pool. You scatter the pals around in the water, and then Jack swims around and gathers them all up. I drew faces on them if you want to play the simple version, but there are also numbers on each ball if you want the more advanced version where he has to bring them back in order. Or Jack can throw the balls so you can swim around and catch them.”
“Oh!” Hotch looked more appreciative. “Thank you, Spencer, that’s a great idea.”
“Can we go try them out now, Dad?” Jack reached over and grabbed the package for a closer look. “These are funny faces!”
“I don’t think any swimming pools are open to-day because it’s Christmas,” Hotch said, and Jack drooped slightly. “But I can check what’s open to-morrow, and we’ll try to get in then, okay, buddy?”
“Yay! Spencer and I can see who can get the most balls the fastest! And then we can throw the balls for Dad to get!” Jack declared, and Spencer felt pleasantly surprised about being included.
Jessica left after that, saying she had to visit her father. In the afternoon, while Jack was playing and Hotch was sitting on the couch watching him and trying hard not to fall asleep, Spencer said, “Hotch, can you help me call my mom?”
“Sure, buddy,” Hotch said. “What do you need help with?”
“Can we go into the bedroom?” Spencer asked. He didn’t want Jack to overhear.
Hotch got up and followed him through the apartment. Once they were behind the closed door, Spencer said, “Can you call her up and tell her I’ve been injured and I can’t talk, but I want to wish her a merry Christmas anyway?”
“You don’t want to try speaking to her at all?” Hotch asked
Remembering the Thanksgiving fiasco, Spencer shook his head. “You can tell her I got hit in the throat by an Unsub and I’m here next to you, writing stuff down for you to read to her, but I have to protect my vocal cords or there could be permanent damage.”
“Okay.”
“I hate lying to her like this, but I don’t know what else to do.” Spencer sighed.
“You just do the best you can, Spencer,” Hotch said, and laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
Spencer laid out his paper and pen, ready to go, then got his phone, put it on speaker, and dialled. Finally, his mother answered with an annoyed-sounding, “Hello!”
“Mrs Reid? My name is Aaron Hotchner, I work with your son, Spencer,” Hotch said.
“Spencer? Is he all right?” his mother asked.
“He got hit in the throat and can’t speak –“ Hotch began.
“Well, send him home, then. He doesn’t need to be in school anyway. Such a smart kid – he probably knows more than you do,” his mother said.
Hotch looked over to Spencer for a hint as to how to procede, and Spencer quickly wrote down not school, FBI!
“Spencer works for the FBI now, Mrs Reid. Remember? He’s not at school anymore,” Hotch tried to explain.
“My son works for the government? Why? Did you take him prisoner, force him into employment because of his brain?”
Spencer sighed, and shook his head vigorously at Hotch. Mom was obviously having one of her bad days.
“No, we did not force him into anything, Mrs Reid. He chose to work with us.”
Spencer wrote down two questions, and Hotch passed them on. “How are you doing, Mrs Reid? Are you getting Spencer’s letters?”
“Oh, yes, Spencer writes all the time. He even sent me a Christmas card that he made himself. I need to write back or he’ll think the government finally got me.”
“And how are you doing?” Hotch pressed. Spencer wrote medications and side effects on his paper and Hotch asked, “How are you doing with your medications? Any side effects?”
“Same old meds, same old side effects,” his mother replied. “Not that I would tell you if anything were different. You never know who’s listening.”
Spencer decided it was time to end the conversation. He wrote a few last words, and Hotch relayed them. “Spencer wants to wish you a merry Christmas, Mrs Reid.”
“Well, tell him merry Christmas from me,” his mother said.
“He’s right here, he can hear you, he just can’t talk,” Hotch explained.
“Merry Christmas!” his mother shouted. “And to all you government spies who are listening, I hope you choke on your eggnog and get run over by reindeer! At the same time!”
After Hotch had hung up, he looked quizzically over to Spencer, who was too embarrassed to meet his eyes but mumbled, “That’s usually how it goes. I just wanted to hear her voice.”
“It’s okay, Spencer,” Hotch said.
They were interrupted in the next moment by Jack throwing open the door and saying, “Dad, look!”
He’d pulled on a sweatshirt from his Christmas stash and stuck out his arms to show how the sleeves didn’t even cover his wrists. “This is too small!”
“Looks like it’s time to see how much you’ve grown,” Hotch said. “I’ll get the tape measure.”
He went to look in the drawers of his desk, and when he came back with the necessary equipment, he steered Jack to a bare section of wall.
“You’re not standing on tiptoes, are you?” he teased. “Don’t stretch your neck like that, either, you’re not a Christmas turkey.”
When Jack was just right, Hotch balanced a ruler on top of his head and used a pencil to mark where it hit the wall. After measuring it from the floor, he announced, “Wow, you’ve really shot up, buddy! Looks like Santa will need to get you a new sweatshirt in a bigger size.”
“But Santa won’t come again for a whole year!” Jack exclaimed.
“Well, maybe I can get you one instead,” Hotch said. “I’m sure Santa wouldn’t mind if I helped him out.”
“We can give this one to Spencer,” Jack suggested, already pulling it off. “He didn’t get any clothes for Christmas, or anything with Cats, either!”
Would they really expect him to wear that? Spencer glanced at Hotch in horror, but Jack was already eagerly thrusting it at him. “Try it on!”
He gritted his teeth mentally and tried it on.
“Well, Spencer, there’s plenty of room for you to grow into it, but you don’t have to keep it if you don’t like it,” Hotch said.
Spencer shook his head a little, hoping Jack wouldn’t notice. Jack, however, had focused on the word ‘grow,’ and now he told Hotch, “You should measure Spencer, too.”
Spencer backed up against the wall and held his head level for the ruler. When Hotch announced his height, however, he felt his shoulders slump. “What? But that’s the same as when I was measured at SH – at – in September.”
“That’s only been about three months.” Hotch tried to console him. “You might have a growth spurt soon.”
Or he might not have a growth spurt at all. What if he stayed exactly the same forever – or at least until the re-aging machine was finished? Or what if SHIELD had been right, the project really was cancelled, and the re-aging machine never got built? What if he never grew up and stayed looking like a child? What if he was never able to contact his mother directly again? Worst of all, what if he ended up needing a supervisor for the rest of his life?
“Don’t worry, Spencer,” Jack said, attempting to console him. “I’m supposed to be bigger than you, because I’m older. And I’m like your big brother now.”
“You won’t stay small forever,” Hotch added.
“You don’t know that,” Spencer stated. His voice wobbled a little because he was close to tears – again! “You don’t know – what if I stay this way forever? What if I die of old age but I still look like this?”
“Can you die of old age when you’re five?” Jack asked.
Sniffing, Spencer started to answer the question automatically, even though it had nothing to do with why he was so afraid. “Actually, there’s this rare genetic condition called progeria, where children’s bodies age so rapidly that –“
“Spencer!” Hotch cut in firmly. “The answer is no, Jack, you cannot die of old age when you’re five. You have to be at least eighty to die of old age. And, Spencer, you will not stay this way forever. You’ll be growing out of your clothes soon enough. You just have to be patient and wait.”
“But I want to grow up right now! And I don’t want to be patient! I’m tired of waiting! I want to be able to visit my mom again, and talk to her and – and do other stuff –” His voice failed him and he bit his lip to keep from crying.
“I know you do,” Hotch said. He reached out and pulled Spencer into a hug. “I know it’s hard.”
Spencer hugged back, and the tears came. He jerked in surprise when he felt Jack hug him from behind.
“I’m sorry you’re sad,” Jack said. “I miss my mom sometimes, too.”
“Thanks,” Spencer sobbed.
After a few moments, Hotch said, “Jack, why don’t you go read that new book that Spencer got you?”
“Okay,” Jack said, and went off. Hotch led Spencer to the bottom bunk and they sat down together.
“Hotch?” Spencer asked when he’d stopped crying enough to talk. “Do you think I’m turning into a child?”
“What?” Hotch asked. “No, of course not. Why do you ask?”
“Not just because I cry all the time and have lots of nightmares, but … I feel like I’ve been acting like a child lately.”
“I haven’t noticed anything radically different,” Hotch said.
“Well, when Jessica shouted at me the other day, I was really scared,” Spencer admitted.
“Jessica shouted at you? When?”
“Friday.” Spencer reported what had happened. “I usually wouldn’t forget when someone tells me something like that, but it just went completely out of my mind. Just like a child! And I was scared she was going to hit me, because she sounded so angry.”
“You don’t have to be a child to be frightened of someone,” Hotch said. “That’s a perfectly normal reaction to a situation like that, and maybe you still have a little PTSD because of what happened in Oklahoma.”
“Yeah,” Spencer agreed. “Maybe. But the forgetting, Hotch! Children focus on their own needs, whether real or perceived, and in a situation where they have to decide whether to satisfy those needs, or remember what their parents told them not to do, they go with their needs. And that’s exactly what I did. I wanted to be active and have fun, so I did, and I completely forgot to be quiet, like Jessica told me. I’m turning into a child!”
“I don’t think you are,” Hotch said. “I think you’re in a child’s body that you can’t control with your intellect alone. I’ve said it before, and I still think that you’re doing your best in a very difficult situation that none of us completely understand. It’s okay if you make mistakes – no, that’s the wrong word. They aren’t mistakes. It’s okay if you react differently now because you have a different body with different needs. It’s okay if you need to move around more, or you need more sleep, or whatever.”
“You know, technically I’ve spent more of my life as a child and a teenager than as an adult, so I should know more about being a child than being an adult,” Spencer said. “But I don’t. I still feel like an adult up here, in my mind. But then I cry all the time –”
“Not all the time, Spencer,” Hotch assured him. “And when you do, you have a good reason.”
“—and I have nightmares all the time, and –“ he screwed up his courage and admitted it in a rapid gush of words – “and I want hugs all the time.”
“Why do you think that’s a bad thing?” Hotch asked. “Adults hug, too.”
Spencer looked away and fidgeted. “Yeah. I’m an adult, I should be wanting the kind of hugs that adults – especially husbands and wives – give each other. But, um, I want the reassurance and the comfort and – and the love that comes when a parent hugs a child. After a nightmare, or when I’ve been crying, it’s all I can think about …”
“I think most people want that kind of comfort, too, no matter how old they are,” Hotch said. “I don’t think it means you’re turning into a child.”
“It’s not just hugs, Hotch. Sometimes I like playing, too. Jumping on the bed, running around, swinging on the swings. And when I made that Christmas card for my mom while I was in childcare, it was actually kind of fun!”
“You only like it sometimes?” Hotch queried. “Or do you only let yourself like it sometimes?”
Spencer looked away again. “I’ve been letting myself like it more and more lately, and that’s the problem! I got so into it when I was jumping off the bed that I completely forgot about being well-behaved for Jessica.”
“I’m not a psychologist, but I get the feeling you’re afraid simply because you actually like being a child sometimes,” Hotch mused.
“Whenever I act like a child, it means I’m not acting like an adult,” Spencer explained. “And if I like being a child, I might act like a child more and more often, and what if I stay that way when I get turned back into an adult?”
“Spencer,” Hotch said, “after three months of observing you after your de-aging, it’s my professional opinion as a profiler that you’ll act like an adult again. But I can continue to observe you, and if I see that something in your behaviour changes for the worse, I promise I will tell you. In the meantime, however, I also think you have the best of both worlds; times when you can be a child, and times when you can be an adult. Okay?”
“Okay,” Spencer said. He felt better knowing that Hotch would keep an eye on him. It was better to have an objective observer, not just his own subjective feelings. “Thanks, Hotch. I appreciate it.”
“All right, then, let me give you a hug, and then we’ll go back out and make sure Jack hasn’t gotten up to any mischief while he’s been alone.” Hotch stood up and extended his arms, and Spencer hugged back with a relieved smile.
+++++
2 January 2012
Hotch had taken the week off between Christmas and New Year’s Day. On Monday, the day after Christmas, he took Jack and Spencer to the swimming pool, as promised. On Wednesday, they went to the National Zoo, and on Friday, they participated in a holiday plant hunt at the U.S. Botanic Garden and viewed the spectacular exhibition of Season’s Greenings. In between, they had fun at home. They made sour candy from the kit Spencer had got, which led to them also learning to boil eggs, make Jello, and helping to make pancakes as well. After Hotch accidentally vacuumed up the most important Lego piece from Jack’s building, they carefully dissected the vacuum bag to find it again. Spencer showed them how to make a Y-shaped cut like a real dissection. Along with playing games and completing puzzles, Spencer and Jack both practised with Spencer’s new jump rope, and every day they had half an hour where they just sat around and read. Spencer let himself enjoy it all, especially the part where Jack went off to Paul’s birthday party and left him alone with Hotch, but he was also relieved when it was finally January and he could go back to work and be around adults again.
“Good morning, Dr Reid, join us in the conference room, please.”
Spencer glanced up from the file he had just started to review and saw Garibaldi and a woman with a visitor’s pass strolling past his desk. He got down from his chair and followed them up the steps. Once they were in the conference room sitting around the table, Garibaldi said, “This is my wife, Karen. I know it’s a bit unorthodox, but you need a supervisor and she’s out of a job at the moment, so if you don’t have any objections, she’s ready to help out.”
“Hello, Dr Reid,” Mrs Garibaldi said. She was just barely grandmother age, slightly plump and with a quirk to her lips that made it seem as though she would start to smile at any moment. “You can call me Karen if you like.”
“Hello,” he said back. “You can call me Spencer.”
“Well, tell me all about the job, Spencer,” she said.
“For you, it would be mostly just sitting around and waiting.” Spencer described his daily routines for the office and the field, and added, “My old supervisor, Ally, had lots of ideas for games and physical activities for me, including swimming if there’s a pool in the hotel.”
“I think I can handle that,” Karen said. “In between all the fun stuff, do I have to keep an eye on you every minute, or do I just have to be nearby?”
“It would be both weird and unnecessary if you stared at me the whole time,” Spencer said. “Ally was teaching herself Arabic in between my breaks.”
“Oh, good, so I can get out my laptop and read or write, or whatever?” She lifted up the case she was carrying.
“Yes.” In the hopes that he would find it interesting, he asked, “What are you writing?”
“A romance novel,” she said, and when Spencer grimaced, she laughed. “You don’t have to read it. My husband doesn’t like romances, either. Do you think you can work with me, anyway? Despite the romance?”
“Yeah, I think I can,” said Spencer.
“Then you start now, Karen,” Garibaldi said. “Don’t let him go anywhere alone. Take him to the women’s bathroom if he has to go.”
“What?” Spencer exclaimed. “Hotch or Morgan or Rossi can take me if I’m really not allowed to go to the bathroom by myself.”
“You’re not,” Garibaldi snapped. “And I don’t care if you go to the men’s room, the women’s room, the handicapped toilet, or the cat litter box, just make sure you have someone inside with you.”
“Well, that cuts out the cat litter box, then, I’m not sure we’d both fit,” Karen replied, and when her husband glared, she added, “A touch of humour doesn’t mean I’m not taking this seriously, Rob. Now, Spencer, do I get a desk, or should I just stay here and keep an eye on you through the window?”
“Ally’s desk is still there,” Spencer said. “I can show you.”
“Thank you. Have a nice day, Rob. I guess I’ll see you if I need to get my go-bag out of your office, or when we get home. Spencer, I’ll just tell Aaron that I’m here, and then you can point me to my desk.”
Spencer looked politely away while Karen and Rob kissed, then led Karen along the mezzanine to Hotch’s office.
“Agent Hotchner!” Karen exclaimed, strolling in. “I want to report a blatant case of nepotism here in the FBI!”
Hotch started in surprise. “Karen?”
“Agent Garibaldi has just appointed his wife – his wife, who isn’t even an agent -- to a supervisory position inside the Bureau,” she went on.
Spencer saw Hotch’s alarm fade instantly to a pleased smile. “A supervisory position? The position that involves Dr Reid?”
“That’s the one.” She grinned. “If I can’t be a children’s librarian – because of those thrice-cursed budget cuts – I might as well be a librarian of children, so to speak. Starting with this one.”
“That’s wonderful, I’m so glad to hear it,” Hotch said, including Spencer in his gaze of approval.
“It’s good to see you again, Aaron,” Karen said. “I was sorry to hear about Haley, how are you and Jack holding up?”
“We’re doing well,” Hotch replied easily. “Jack just started school this year, and Haley’s sister Jessica helps take care of him when I’m not there.”
“Watch out, he’ll be grown up before you know it, and working halfway across the country,” Karen teased.
Hotch started to say something, but Spencer’s phone alarm went off just then, and he pulled it out. “Break time. Now we have to go outside and play.”
“Heigh ho, heigh ho, it’s off to work I go,” Karen said. “I’ll catch you later, Aaron. Lead the way, Spencer.”
Part 25
Part 23
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