Second Childhood
Part 3
Hotch and JJ both pushed Spencer at the same time, and he fell into the circle of blue lights, except that they went out, and everything was dark, and he couldn’t even see their faces anymore, and he was alone, all alone in the completely black hole, and he screamed and screamed and –
“Jack?”
A light went on, and over his crying, he could hear the same sleepy voice say, “Reid – Spencer.”
Then Hotch gathered him up and hugged him tight, rocking slightly from side to side. “Spencer, it’s all right, it was just a dream, it’s okay, you’re safe.”
“Don’t leave me alone,” Spencer sobbed, clinging to Hotch with both arms and legs. “Not in the black hole!”
“You’re not alone, and you’re not in a black hole. You’re safe, I’ve got you. Everything’s all right.” Hotch held him close and continued to speak soothing phrases until Spencer was finally able to comprehend what he was saying and what had happened.
“I had a bad dream,” he finally said.
“You sure did,” Hotch affirmed. He still sounded like he was talking to his son.
“Where are we?” Spencer looked around. In the light of the small lamp, he could see utilitarian-looking beds, nighttables, desks, chairs, and wardrobes; one side of the room mirroring the other. It was nothing like the blue tunnel of lights or the room with the big mat; it reminded him more of a university dormitory
“At one of SHIELD’s research facilities. You fell asleep in the Quinjet.”
Spencer remembered the Quinjet, how one of the SHIELD agents had found a first-aid kit and a box of emergency protein bars for him to sit on so that the shoulder harness would fit. Another agent had gotten fast food for everybody, and they’d eaten while still on the ground, waiting for the rest of the SHIELD team to arrive. They’d finally come, carrying Dr Sakenfeld on a stretcher between them. He looked like they’d dragged him straight out of the OR, and even though Dr Sakenfeld was obviously asleep, Spencer was glad to see he’d been handcuffed to the stretcher as well. The agents had fastened the stretcher to the floor, and then they’d lifted off.
“What time is it now?”
Hotch’s grip shifted slightly as he moved his wrist to check his watch. “About two thirty a.m. Do you think you could go back to sleep for a while?”
“I need to go to the bathroom.”
“It’s over here.” Hotch carried him over to one of two doors at the end of the room, and switched on the light before putting him down. Even though it was still weird to be carried around by his boss, or at least it was still weird when he stopped to think about it, Spencer also noticed that every bit of his skin that had been contact with Hotch felt suddenly deprived and anxious for more touch. Firmly, he shut the door between them.
When Spencer came out again, Hotch was back in bed with his head propped up on one hand.
“I always tell Jack that talking about the bad dream makes it go away and never come back,” he said.
“Does it work?” Spencer asked.
“I think so,” Hotch replied. “He never has the same bad dream twice, but one or two have been a bit similar. Do you want to try it out?”
“No.” Spencer went over to his own bed and lifted the covers to get in. He’d barely placed his head on the pillow, though, when Hotch turned the lamp off, plunging the room back into absolute darkness. Sitting up in panic, he screeched, “Turn it back on, turn it back on!”
The light came back on instantly.
“Sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” Hotch said, then added, “You can come sleep in my bed, if it will make you feel better.”
“I—I’ll be okay,” Spencer said, but he stayed awake for a long time after Hotch had fallen asleep again.
The next day was filled with one test after another, medical procedures that ranged from simple to complicated, as well as cognitive and physical assessments. They even ran a few experiments on his emotions, the results of which confirmed Morgan’s theory that they had been de-aged, too. Hotch insisted that Spencer have at least fifteen minutes break after each test, sometimes longer, and every so often, made him go outside and walk around the buiilding as well, to “get the wiggles out.”
By the time Hotch dragged him outside in the afternoon for a yet another lap around the research centre, Spencer was starting to feel rebellious.
“I’d rather read a book for my break, Hotch, that’s more fun. Walking around the building is boring!”
“We don’t have to walk,” Hotch said. “You can run, and I’ll chase you, and every time I catch you, we can take a selfie for Je – for Garcia.”
“I’m walking, I’m walking, see,” Spencer replied, setting off. Hotch grabbed him anyway, held him up, and pointed his phone at both their faces.
“Come on, smile,” he urged as Spencer frowned in the direction of the screen.
“I don’t want to – Hotch, stop tickling me!” Spencer couldn’t help laughing, even as he squirmed to be set free. Hotch got two pictures, then finally put him down, and Spencer stomped away. “That’s not fair, Hotch!”
“No, but it was fun,” Hotch grinned.
“So is reciting all the digits in pi,” Spencer shot back. But on his way around the building, he realized Hotch had been suggesting something he regularly did with his son. His first reaction was guilt for being the sole reason that Hotch was away from Jack, but then he felt a powerful though short-lived wave of glee that the other man was hurting, even just a little bit, after he’d hurt Spencer so badly. Almost immediately, however, he remembered Hotch’s apology and his willingness to make amends, and felt ashamed of his burst of schadenfreude.
The next day, when Hotch suggested a form of tag that included him having to run to and touch the nearest tree before trying to catch Spencer, obviously something else he did with Jack, Spencer agreed. Not wanting to feel as though he were merely assuaging his guilt, however, he made his agreement conditional on being allowed to spend their lunchtime reading a psychology textbook that he begged from one of the doctors. Unfortunately, the book contained very little that he hadn’t come across before, and he found it just a little bit more satisfying to try and dodge out of Hotch’s way, seeing how many times he could zig and zag before getting tagged. They both ended up smiling by the end of the last round.
The last of Spencer’s tests ran longer than expected and they were late for supper in the SHIELD cafeteria. Spencer was hoping this meant that the crowd of SHIELD agents who just “happened” to be eating at the same time would be reduced, but they were gathered already, shamelessly waiting for yet another look at the boy wonder. It was like his first day at high school, over and over again, Spencer thought, keeping his gaze lowered as Hotch carried their tray of food to the only empty table. The SHIELD personal had gathered around every other table, ready to gawk at how Spencer climbed up onto a chair, ate his ravioli, chewed most of a salad, and drank his milk. Did they expect him to suddenly re-age, Spencer wondered, or turn into a green tentacled monster?
Then a young agent approached the table, staring fixedly at Hotch, and informed them that the one single Quinjet assigned to the research facility was otherwise in use. Someone would be available to drive them back to Quantico, but it would take closer to three hours instead of the scheduled thirty-minute flight. Spencer groaned quietly.
“We’ll have to delay the team meeting I was hoping to have,” Hotch said just as his phone buzzed. He checked the caller, then pressed the button.
“Hi, Rossi, I’m putting you on speaker.”
“Hi, how’s it going? Are they going to keep you much longer?”
“No, Reid’s just finished the tests, we’re driving home this evening.”
“Did they say anything about the results yet?”
“They say everything looks normal for someone who’s almost five, and they don’t expect him to suddenly revert back to being twenty nine, or – anything else.”
“He means they also don’t think I’m going to suddenly drop dead, or even regress back to being a sperm and an egg,” Spencer put in, and heard Rossi laugh heartily on the other end.
“They think he’ll just age normally, but of course they’re working on finding something to reverse it,” Hotch added.
“Any idea how long that will take?”
“They’re not even sure how long it took Dr Sakenfeld to make the damn thing in the first place,” Hotch said.
“But of course he’s done all the pioneering for the project, and they can piggy-back off his research, so it might take much less time,” Spencer pointed out.
“I hope you’re right, kid. Anyway, Aaron, we’ve got a new case. A series of child kidnappings in Colorado. So if you’re going to be joining us, then we have to decide what to do about Reid.”
“You don’t have to do anything about me,” Spencer said. He’d had plenty of opportunities in the last two days to lie around and think about how his new condition would affect his job, and he’d come to the conclusion that it would only be a hindrance if other people made it that way. “I can come, too. I’ll lay low in the hotel and work over video link, like I did with Garcia when I got shot.”
“No,” said Hotch and Rossi at the same time. Rossi was quicker to continue. “You absolutely cannot stay in the hotel by yourself.“
“Someone could stay with me, even though I wouldn’t really need it.”
“Look, Strauss and I have already discussed this a little bit on the phone,” Hotch said. That was news to Spencer, and he realized Hotch must have spoken to the Section Chief while he was asleep, the way he’d seen JJ and Will do when they didn’t want Henry interrupting, or even knowing what was going on. Spencer did not like being excluded as though he were a child, too.
“If you’re worried about child labour laws, the true question would be, are those laws valid in my case?” Spencer interrupted. “I mean, people with mental disabilities are allowed, even encouraged to work at whatever tasks they’re capable of, even though they might have the mind of a child in an adult’s body. But with me, it’s the other way around, I have the mind of an adult in a child’s body, and the labour I would be doing would be mental, not physical.”
“Actually, we didn’t get around to child labour laws, Reid, but that’s a good point. What we did decide was to wait until the Bureau has got the official test results, which should be soon. Once we have them, we’ll be in a better position to make a decision about how we will be handling the situation. But until then, Reid, you are officially on sick leave.”
“I’m not sick, Hotch, I’m just a little smaller,” Spencer felt obliged to point out.
“And a little more emotional, if I correctly recall the results of at least one of those tests,” Hotch said. Remembering which one he meant, Spencer cringed slightly.
“So, who do we know who can look after him for you?” Rossi asked. “Your sister-in-law, Jessica, looks after Jack, doesn’t she? Do you think –“
“No,” Hotch said. “I can’t ask her to do that. With Jack, it’s different, they’re family. And she needs time to do her regular job, too. I know she works mostly at home developing software, but I know she wouldn’t be able to concentrate on that and keep an eye on Spencer the whole time, too.”
“I guess putting him with Will and Henry is out, too,” Rossi said, and Hotch nodded. “Definitely out. Henry’s in daycare or with a neighbour when Will’s at work. And while I did consider the BAU’s emergency childcare centre –“
“Hotch, please don’t send me there.” Spencer tried not to give in to the emotions that his four-year-old self was on the verge of experiencing. “I’m not a child, I just look like one, and it will be a disaster.”
“Reid—“
But panic and desperation were starting to overwhelm him, and his speech became louder and faster and even took on a slightly whiny tone. “Just let me stay in the office with Garcia! I won’t cause any trouble, I won’t even work, I’ll just sit quietly and read and nobody will even know I’m there!”
“Reid!” Hotch gave him the official look of reprimand, and Spencer stopped babbling.
“I won’t be sending you to childcare, Reid, so relax. I’ve decided I’ll be sitting this case out. We both will.” Hotch turned his attention back to the phone. “Feel free to consult with me by phone if you need to, Rossi, but as Reid’s health care proxy, I have a duty of care towards him.”
“And it doesn’t hurt that you can spend a lazy weekend with your son, too,” Rossi replied.
Hotch smiled. “Guilty as charged, and showing no remorse whatsoever.”
“If I borrow Reid, can I play hooky from work sometime, too?” Rossi asked, amusement audible in his voice.
Spencer was sure that Hotch smirked, just the tiniest bit.
+++++
Spencer opened his eyes, sat up, and looked around. The room was lit only by a small nightlight, plugged into a socket near the floor, but eventually he was able to pick out a larger lamp on a nightstand next to him. He felt around for the switch, and when the bulb came on, he realized he was in Jack’s bedroom and Jack’s bed. He must have fallen asleep in the car, and Hotch had carried him inside, just like when they’d arrived at the SHIELD facility. And, just like then, he’d also removed Spencer’s jeans and let him sleep in his T-shirt and underwear.
Spencer got up and went towards the bedroom door. There was a dark, lumpy form on the floor at the end of the bed, and for one terrifying moment, he imagined it was an Unsub, lying in wait. He could even hear breathing. But then the lump shifted slightly, and Spencer realized it was actually Jack in a sleeping bag. Beyond him, in front of the closet and the chest of drawers, Spencer could see his messenger bag and his go-bag, with his jeans laid out neatly on top. Feeling faintly ridiculous, Spencer moved around Jack, careful not to step on him, and got dressed.
In the kitchen, the microwave clock said it was almost seven. The house was nicely quiet, and Spencer realized it was the first time he’d been completely alone since his de-aging. It seemed like the perfect time to make some coffee, or rather, coffee-flavoured milk, since he wanted a little bit of caffeine without suffering the effects of too much, and then he’d grab one of Hotch’s books to read. But Hotch’s coffee machine was too far back on the counter for him to reach from where he stood, and he had to move a chair from the dining room and climb up on it.
Spencer had just got the coffee going when he heard rapid footsteps approaching.
“Dad – oh.” It was Jack, staring up at him in dismay, but then the disappointment faded from his face and he looked almost cheerful as he said, “You’re Spencer, right? I’m Jack.”
“Hi, Jack,” Spencer said. They’d met before – Spencer had come over several times in the last few months – but of course Jack wouldn’t know him in his current form. Hotch must have spoken to him the night before to prepare him for younger Spencer’s presence.
“What are you doing?”
“Making coffee. Do you want some?”
“Coffee tastes yucky,” Jack said. “And Dad said it’s only for adults.”
“Well, I have adult tastes,” Spencer said. He got down from the chair and went to the fridge for a carton of milk. He had to use both hands to carry it.
“Dad always makes me oatmeal and orange juice for breakfast,” Jack said, watching as Spencer deposited the milk safely on the counter, then went back to shut the fridge door.
“I can make orange juice, too,” Spencer said, ignoring the oatmeal part. Spotting an egg carton on a lower shelf, he added, “And I can make scrambled eggs, fried eggs, and cheese omelets. Do you want eggs for breakfast?”
“I like scrambled eggs with ketchup,” Jack said. Spencer had never eaten scrambled eggs with ketchup before, but it actually sounded like a good idea. He grabbed the egg carton with one hand, securing it against his stomach, then reached for the bottle of ketchup in the door.
“Now we need a bowl and a fork,” Spencer said, settling the ketchup next to the milk, then lifting up the egg carton next.
Jack pointed out the correct cabinet for bowls, and got a fork from the drawer. Getting back up on the chair, Spencer cracked an egg against the side of the bowl, but he still wasn’t used to the less-developed fine motor control of his smaller body, or rather, the almost complete lack of it. The egg smashed and slid down onto the counter. Grimacing, Spencer held the bowl just under the edge of the counter and used his hand to sweep the egg, shell and all, into it.
“Now you’ve got all that eggshell in there,” Jack said.
“I’ll get it out,” Spencer said, picking at it. It wasn’t as easy as he remembered, and there weren’t many larger pieces of shell that he could use to get the smaller ones out, but eventually, he managed to remove all the pieces he could see. After wiping his hands on a towel, he tried again with the other egg, tapping it so gently that he had to try six times to get it to crack.
“Do you have a salt shaker?” Spencer asked, and picked out more pieces of shell while Jack fetched the salt from the table. The third egg went in almost perfectly, and Spencer shook the salt over the bowl three times, then mixed the eggs with a fork. Only a little bit slopped over the side.
“Do you know where your dad keeps the pans?”
“In here.” Jack opened one of the lower cabinets and pulled out a huge drawer full of pots and pans and lids. Spencer selected a Teflon pan, then moved the chair from the coffee maker over to the stove and got up. He put the pan on the burner and turned it on, then realized he was missing something.
“Do you have a spatula?” he asked. “And can you get the butter out of the fridge?”
But Jack’s helpfulness ended there. “Dad says I can’t use the stove unless he’s there, and you’re smaller than I am, so you’re not allowed to use it, either.”
“I know how to cook,” Spencer retorted, reaching over to the drawer where Jack had found the fork earlier. He almost fell off the chair, so he got down and tried again, then checked the drawer underneath and found the spatula. Jack turned around and raced out of the kitchen, so Spencer got the butter out of the fridge by himself. Using both hands on the handle of the spatula, he pushed the edge of it into the stick of butter and managed to heave off a chunk, then put it in the pan and watched it melt.
“Spencer, what are you doing?” That wasn’t Jack, it was Hotch, and Spencer glanced around quickly in surprise.
“Making breakfast,” he said. “Jack and I are going to have scrambled eggs with ketchup, but I can make some for you without.”
He stretched out sideways, putting one hand on the counter to support himself while he reached for the bowl of eggs, but his hand landed in the gooey remains of the raw egg and slipped right over the edge. Spencer crashed to the floor, landing hard on his side. “Oww!”
Hotch was already there, crouching down. “Are you hurt?”
“Uh,” he said, sitting up and breathing for a moment. He wasn’t hurt, but his hand was slimy. Without thinking, he wiped it on his shirt. “No, I’m fine.”
“All right, then it’s time out for you, and I’ll finish the eggs,” Hotch said.
“What?” Spencer gaped up at him in utter confusion. “Time out? For what?”
“Jack is not allowed to use the stove or the coffee machine, or the mixer, or anything else like that unless I am supervising him. And since you are younger than he is, you are not allowed, either,” Hotch explained, emphasizing the word “younger” just a little bit and giving Spencer a significant look. “And I’m putting you in time out so that you can think about what kind of example you’re setting for my son and what kind of danger Jack might get into if he tries to do what you’re doing now.”
Spencer hadn’t thought of that and felt suddenly drenched in deep shame. He’d only been thinking of proving that he could still do almost everything he’d been able to do as an adult, even though he was in a child’s body. Hotch helped him up, then kept one hand on his shoulder and led him over to a bare section of wall just outside the kitchen
“You stand here, no turning around, and no talking,” Hotch explained, pushing him gently forwards until his toes were just touching the wall. “If you try to get out early, I’ll start the timer again, otherwise, it’s one minute for each year of your age.”
“Twenty nine minutes?” Spencer exclaimed.
“Four.” Hotch corrected him. “I’m setting the timer now. Remember, no talking.”
“You have to think about what you did wrong, and what you can do better next time,” Jack put in helpfully.
“Thank you, Jack, but please don’t talk to Spencer when he’s in time out,” Hotch said.
Spencer stared down at the floor, listening to Hotch get a cannister of orange juice out of the freezer and stop by the stove to stir the eggs quickly. He was glad that none of the team was here to see him with his nose to the wall; it was even worse than being carried around like a baby.
“Dad, are you going to be here for my birthday?” Jack asked.
“I’m sure going to try,” Hotch replied. Well, Spencer thought, at least he wasn’t lying by saying yes.
“Is Spencer going to be here?”
“I don’t know, buddy. Come here, help me stir this orange juice.”
Spencer wanted to ask Jack when his birthday was, the better to help him calculate if he was going to be there or not, but remembered that Hotch had told him not to talk. He’d only said that he’d start the timer again if Spencer tried to get out of his punishment, but he might add another minute or even two for talking. Better not to risk it.
Eventually, the timer went off. Hotch said, “All right, Spencer, you can apologize and then sit down at the table.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” Spencer said quietly. As he went into the dining room and sat down to the table, Jack asked, “Aren’t you going to hug him, Dad?”
“Why would he hug me?” Spencer asked. Hotch looked as though he’d been about to ask the same question.
“Because that’s part of the whole time out thing,” Jack explained. For a single second, Hotch’s face lit up in realization, and then he smiled fondly down at his son.
“I’ll hug him if he wants,” Hotch said, lifting the pitcher of orange juice out of the sink and bringing it to the table. “Do you want a hug, Spencer?”
“No,” Spencer said, but he couldn’t help remembering how nice it had felt to be cuddled in Hotch’s arms after his nightmare.
“Don’t you like hugs?” Jack asked.
Spencer sidestepped the question. “I like it when my mom hugs me.”
“All right, boys, eat up.“ Hotch placed a plate of scrambled eggs dotted with ketchup in front of each of them, poured the orange juice, then went back to the stove to make more eggs for himself.
After taking two bites, Jack spit out the third one and exclaimed, “Yuck, Dad, this egg’s got eggshells in it. Can I have oatmeal instead?”
Spencer had found eggshell in his mouth, too, but had quietly cringed and swallowed anyway.
“I can get you a new egg, and we can have oatmeal to-morrow, how’s that?”
Jack considered the idea, and finally said, “Okay.”
“Okay.” Hotch cracked another egg into the pan. “Spencer? You want a new egg, too?”
Biting down on yet another piece of shell, Spencer glanced up, amazed that Hotch wasn’t forcing him to eat his mistakes. “Um, yeah. Thanks.“
After they’d all finished eating, Hotch said, “Put your things in the sink, boys, then go to Jack’s room while I get a shower and get dressed. Jack, we have to stop at the store and see if we can get a car seat for Spencer. That means we have to leave early for soccer, so I need you to get your soccer uniform on now.”
“Hey, Spencer, want to be on my soccer team?” Jack asked. “Dad, can Spencer be on my soccer team?”
“I don’t want to,” Spencer said. “And I need glasses, so I won’t be able to see the ball very well anyway. I should just stay here and read.”
“He won’t be on the team, but he is coming with us,” Hotch answered.
Spencer stared at him in dismay. “Do I have to?”
“You absolutely cannot stay here by yourself, Spencer, so, yes, you have to. But I will let you bring a book or two.”
“Thanks,” Spencer murmured sarcastically.
Hotch went on as though he hadn’t heard that. “And on Monday, I’ll see about getting you an appointment for an eye exam so we can get you new glasses.”
“Oh,” said Spencer. It took him a moment to recover from his surprise and switch his tone of voice. “Thanks, Hotch.”
Hotch and JJ both pushed Spencer at the same time, and he fell into the circle of blue lights, except that they went out, and everything was dark, and he couldn’t even see their faces anymore, and he was alone, all alone in the completely black hole, and he screamed and screamed and –
“Jack?”
A light went on, and over his crying, he could hear the same sleepy voice say, “Reid – Spencer.”
Then Hotch gathered him up and hugged him tight, rocking slightly from side to side. “Spencer, it’s all right, it was just a dream, it’s okay, you’re safe.”
“Don’t leave me alone,” Spencer sobbed, clinging to Hotch with both arms and legs. “Not in the black hole!”
“You’re not alone, and you’re not in a black hole. You’re safe, I’ve got you. Everything’s all right.” Hotch held him close and continued to speak soothing phrases until Spencer was finally able to comprehend what he was saying and what had happened.
“I had a bad dream,” he finally said.
“You sure did,” Hotch affirmed. He still sounded like he was talking to his son.
“Where are we?” Spencer looked around. In the light of the small lamp, he could see utilitarian-looking beds, nighttables, desks, chairs, and wardrobes; one side of the room mirroring the other. It was nothing like the blue tunnel of lights or the room with the big mat; it reminded him more of a university dormitory
“At one of SHIELD’s research facilities. You fell asleep in the Quinjet.”
Spencer remembered the Quinjet, how one of the SHIELD agents had found a first-aid kit and a box of emergency protein bars for him to sit on so that the shoulder harness would fit. Another agent had gotten fast food for everybody, and they’d eaten while still on the ground, waiting for the rest of the SHIELD team to arrive. They’d finally come, carrying Dr Sakenfeld on a stretcher between them. He looked like they’d dragged him straight out of the OR, and even though Dr Sakenfeld was obviously asleep, Spencer was glad to see he’d been handcuffed to the stretcher as well. The agents had fastened the stretcher to the floor, and then they’d lifted off.
“What time is it now?”
Hotch’s grip shifted slightly as he moved his wrist to check his watch. “About two thirty a.m. Do you think you could go back to sleep for a while?”
“I need to go to the bathroom.”
“It’s over here.” Hotch carried him over to one of two doors at the end of the room, and switched on the light before putting him down. Even though it was still weird to be carried around by his boss, or at least it was still weird when he stopped to think about it, Spencer also noticed that every bit of his skin that had been contact with Hotch felt suddenly deprived and anxious for more touch. Firmly, he shut the door between them.
When Spencer came out again, Hotch was back in bed with his head propped up on one hand.
“I always tell Jack that talking about the bad dream makes it go away and never come back,” he said.
“Does it work?” Spencer asked.
“I think so,” Hotch replied. “He never has the same bad dream twice, but one or two have been a bit similar. Do you want to try it out?”
“No.” Spencer went over to his own bed and lifted the covers to get in. He’d barely placed his head on the pillow, though, when Hotch turned the lamp off, plunging the room back into absolute darkness. Sitting up in panic, he screeched, “Turn it back on, turn it back on!”
The light came back on instantly.
“Sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” Hotch said, then added, “You can come sleep in my bed, if it will make you feel better.”
“I—I’ll be okay,” Spencer said, but he stayed awake for a long time after Hotch had fallen asleep again.
The next day was filled with one test after another, medical procedures that ranged from simple to complicated, as well as cognitive and physical assessments. They even ran a few experiments on his emotions, the results of which confirmed Morgan’s theory that they had been de-aged, too. Hotch insisted that Spencer have at least fifteen minutes break after each test, sometimes longer, and every so often, made him go outside and walk around the buiilding as well, to “get the wiggles out.”
By the time Hotch dragged him outside in the afternoon for a yet another lap around the research centre, Spencer was starting to feel rebellious.
“I’d rather read a book for my break, Hotch, that’s more fun. Walking around the building is boring!”
“We don’t have to walk,” Hotch said. “You can run, and I’ll chase you, and every time I catch you, we can take a selfie for Je – for Garcia.”
“I’m walking, I’m walking, see,” Spencer replied, setting off. Hotch grabbed him anyway, held him up, and pointed his phone at both their faces.
“Come on, smile,” he urged as Spencer frowned in the direction of the screen.
“I don’t want to – Hotch, stop tickling me!” Spencer couldn’t help laughing, even as he squirmed to be set free. Hotch got two pictures, then finally put him down, and Spencer stomped away. “That’s not fair, Hotch!”
“No, but it was fun,” Hotch grinned.
“So is reciting all the digits in pi,” Spencer shot back. But on his way around the building, he realized Hotch had been suggesting something he regularly did with his son. His first reaction was guilt for being the sole reason that Hotch was away from Jack, but then he felt a powerful though short-lived wave of glee that the other man was hurting, even just a little bit, after he’d hurt Spencer so badly. Almost immediately, however, he remembered Hotch’s apology and his willingness to make amends, and felt ashamed of his burst of schadenfreude.
The next day, when Hotch suggested a form of tag that included him having to run to and touch the nearest tree before trying to catch Spencer, obviously something else he did with Jack, Spencer agreed. Not wanting to feel as though he were merely assuaging his guilt, however, he made his agreement conditional on being allowed to spend their lunchtime reading a psychology textbook that he begged from one of the doctors. Unfortunately, the book contained very little that he hadn’t come across before, and he found it just a little bit more satisfying to try and dodge out of Hotch’s way, seeing how many times he could zig and zag before getting tagged. They both ended up smiling by the end of the last round.
The last of Spencer’s tests ran longer than expected and they were late for supper in the SHIELD cafeteria. Spencer was hoping this meant that the crowd of SHIELD agents who just “happened” to be eating at the same time would be reduced, but they were gathered already, shamelessly waiting for yet another look at the boy wonder. It was like his first day at high school, over and over again, Spencer thought, keeping his gaze lowered as Hotch carried their tray of food to the only empty table. The SHIELD personal had gathered around every other table, ready to gawk at how Spencer climbed up onto a chair, ate his ravioli, chewed most of a salad, and drank his milk. Did they expect him to suddenly re-age, Spencer wondered, or turn into a green tentacled monster?
Then a young agent approached the table, staring fixedly at Hotch, and informed them that the one single Quinjet assigned to the research facility was otherwise in use. Someone would be available to drive them back to Quantico, but it would take closer to three hours instead of the scheduled thirty-minute flight. Spencer groaned quietly.
“We’ll have to delay the team meeting I was hoping to have,” Hotch said just as his phone buzzed. He checked the caller, then pressed the button.
“Hi, Rossi, I’m putting you on speaker.”
“Hi, how’s it going? Are they going to keep you much longer?”
“No, Reid’s just finished the tests, we’re driving home this evening.”
“Did they say anything about the results yet?”
“They say everything looks normal for someone who’s almost five, and they don’t expect him to suddenly revert back to being twenty nine, or – anything else.”
“He means they also don’t think I’m going to suddenly drop dead, or even regress back to being a sperm and an egg,” Spencer put in, and heard Rossi laugh heartily on the other end.
“They think he’ll just age normally, but of course they’re working on finding something to reverse it,” Hotch added.
“Any idea how long that will take?”
“They’re not even sure how long it took Dr Sakenfeld to make the damn thing in the first place,” Hotch said.
“But of course he’s done all the pioneering for the project, and they can piggy-back off his research, so it might take much less time,” Spencer pointed out.
“I hope you’re right, kid. Anyway, Aaron, we’ve got a new case. A series of child kidnappings in Colorado. So if you’re going to be joining us, then we have to decide what to do about Reid.”
“You don’t have to do anything about me,” Spencer said. He’d had plenty of opportunities in the last two days to lie around and think about how his new condition would affect his job, and he’d come to the conclusion that it would only be a hindrance if other people made it that way. “I can come, too. I’ll lay low in the hotel and work over video link, like I did with Garcia when I got shot.”
“No,” said Hotch and Rossi at the same time. Rossi was quicker to continue. “You absolutely cannot stay in the hotel by yourself.“
“Someone could stay with me, even though I wouldn’t really need it.”
“Look, Strauss and I have already discussed this a little bit on the phone,” Hotch said. That was news to Spencer, and he realized Hotch must have spoken to the Section Chief while he was asleep, the way he’d seen JJ and Will do when they didn’t want Henry interrupting, or even knowing what was going on. Spencer did not like being excluded as though he were a child, too.
“If you’re worried about child labour laws, the true question would be, are those laws valid in my case?” Spencer interrupted. “I mean, people with mental disabilities are allowed, even encouraged to work at whatever tasks they’re capable of, even though they might have the mind of a child in an adult’s body. But with me, it’s the other way around, I have the mind of an adult in a child’s body, and the labour I would be doing would be mental, not physical.”
“Actually, we didn’t get around to child labour laws, Reid, but that’s a good point. What we did decide was to wait until the Bureau has got the official test results, which should be soon. Once we have them, we’ll be in a better position to make a decision about how we will be handling the situation. But until then, Reid, you are officially on sick leave.”
“I’m not sick, Hotch, I’m just a little smaller,” Spencer felt obliged to point out.
“And a little more emotional, if I correctly recall the results of at least one of those tests,” Hotch said. Remembering which one he meant, Spencer cringed slightly.
“So, who do we know who can look after him for you?” Rossi asked. “Your sister-in-law, Jessica, looks after Jack, doesn’t she? Do you think –“
“No,” Hotch said. “I can’t ask her to do that. With Jack, it’s different, they’re family. And she needs time to do her regular job, too. I know she works mostly at home developing software, but I know she wouldn’t be able to concentrate on that and keep an eye on Spencer the whole time, too.”
“I guess putting him with Will and Henry is out, too,” Rossi said, and Hotch nodded. “Definitely out. Henry’s in daycare or with a neighbour when Will’s at work. And while I did consider the BAU’s emergency childcare centre –“
“Hotch, please don’t send me there.” Spencer tried not to give in to the emotions that his four-year-old self was on the verge of experiencing. “I’m not a child, I just look like one, and it will be a disaster.”
“Reid—“
But panic and desperation were starting to overwhelm him, and his speech became louder and faster and even took on a slightly whiny tone. “Just let me stay in the office with Garcia! I won’t cause any trouble, I won’t even work, I’ll just sit quietly and read and nobody will even know I’m there!”
“Reid!” Hotch gave him the official look of reprimand, and Spencer stopped babbling.
“I won’t be sending you to childcare, Reid, so relax. I’ve decided I’ll be sitting this case out. We both will.” Hotch turned his attention back to the phone. “Feel free to consult with me by phone if you need to, Rossi, but as Reid’s health care proxy, I have a duty of care towards him.”
“And it doesn’t hurt that you can spend a lazy weekend with your son, too,” Rossi replied.
Hotch smiled. “Guilty as charged, and showing no remorse whatsoever.”
“If I borrow Reid, can I play hooky from work sometime, too?” Rossi asked, amusement audible in his voice.
Spencer was sure that Hotch smirked, just the tiniest bit.
+++++
Spencer opened his eyes, sat up, and looked around. The room was lit only by a small nightlight, plugged into a socket near the floor, but eventually he was able to pick out a larger lamp on a nightstand next to him. He felt around for the switch, and when the bulb came on, he realized he was in Jack’s bedroom and Jack’s bed. He must have fallen asleep in the car, and Hotch had carried him inside, just like when they’d arrived at the SHIELD facility. And, just like then, he’d also removed Spencer’s jeans and let him sleep in his T-shirt and underwear.
Spencer got up and went towards the bedroom door. There was a dark, lumpy form on the floor at the end of the bed, and for one terrifying moment, he imagined it was an Unsub, lying in wait. He could even hear breathing. But then the lump shifted slightly, and Spencer realized it was actually Jack in a sleeping bag. Beyond him, in front of the closet and the chest of drawers, Spencer could see his messenger bag and his go-bag, with his jeans laid out neatly on top. Feeling faintly ridiculous, Spencer moved around Jack, careful not to step on him, and got dressed.
In the kitchen, the microwave clock said it was almost seven. The house was nicely quiet, and Spencer realized it was the first time he’d been completely alone since his de-aging. It seemed like the perfect time to make some coffee, or rather, coffee-flavoured milk, since he wanted a little bit of caffeine without suffering the effects of too much, and then he’d grab one of Hotch’s books to read. But Hotch’s coffee machine was too far back on the counter for him to reach from where he stood, and he had to move a chair from the dining room and climb up on it.
Spencer had just got the coffee going when he heard rapid footsteps approaching.
“Dad – oh.” It was Jack, staring up at him in dismay, but then the disappointment faded from his face and he looked almost cheerful as he said, “You’re Spencer, right? I’m Jack.”
“Hi, Jack,” Spencer said. They’d met before – Spencer had come over several times in the last few months – but of course Jack wouldn’t know him in his current form. Hotch must have spoken to him the night before to prepare him for younger Spencer’s presence.
“What are you doing?”
“Making coffee. Do you want some?”
“Coffee tastes yucky,” Jack said. “And Dad said it’s only for adults.”
“Well, I have adult tastes,” Spencer said. He got down from the chair and went to the fridge for a carton of milk. He had to use both hands to carry it.
“Dad always makes me oatmeal and orange juice for breakfast,” Jack said, watching as Spencer deposited the milk safely on the counter, then went back to shut the fridge door.
“I can make orange juice, too,” Spencer said, ignoring the oatmeal part. Spotting an egg carton on a lower shelf, he added, “And I can make scrambled eggs, fried eggs, and cheese omelets. Do you want eggs for breakfast?”
“I like scrambled eggs with ketchup,” Jack said. Spencer had never eaten scrambled eggs with ketchup before, but it actually sounded like a good idea. He grabbed the egg carton with one hand, securing it against his stomach, then reached for the bottle of ketchup in the door.
“Now we need a bowl and a fork,” Spencer said, settling the ketchup next to the milk, then lifting up the egg carton next.
Jack pointed out the correct cabinet for bowls, and got a fork from the drawer. Getting back up on the chair, Spencer cracked an egg against the side of the bowl, but he still wasn’t used to the less-developed fine motor control of his smaller body, or rather, the almost complete lack of it. The egg smashed and slid down onto the counter. Grimacing, Spencer held the bowl just under the edge of the counter and used his hand to sweep the egg, shell and all, into it.
“Now you’ve got all that eggshell in there,” Jack said.
“I’ll get it out,” Spencer said, picking at it. It wasn’t as easy as he remembered, and there weren’t many larger pieces of shell that he could use to get the smaller ones out, but eventually, he managed to remove all the pieces he could see. After wiping his hands on a towel, he tried again with the other egg, tapping it so gently that he had to try six times to get it to crack.
“Do you have a salt shaker?” Spencer asked, and picked out more pieces of shell while Jack fetched the salt from the table. The third egg went in almost perfectly, and Spencer shook the salt over the bowl three times, then mixed the eggs with a fork. Only a little bit slopped over the side.
“Do you know where your dad keeps the pans?”
“In here.” Jack opened one of the lower cabinets and pulled out a huge drawer full of pots and pans and lids. Spencer selected a Teflon pan, then moved the chair from the coffee maker over to the stove and got up. He put the pan on the burner and turned it on, then realized he was missing something.
“Do you have a spatula?” he asked. “And can you get the butter out of the fridge?”
But Jack’s helpfulness ended there. “Dad says I can’t use the stove unless he’s there, and you’re smaller than I am, so you’re not allowed to use it, either.”
“I know how to cook,” Spencer retorted, reaching over to the drawer where Jack had found the fork earlier. He almost fell off the chair, so he got down and tried again, then checked the drawer underneath and found the spatula. Jack turned around and raced out of the kitchen, so Spencer got the butter out of the fridge by himself. Using both hands on the handle of the spatula, he pushed the edge of it into the stick of butter and managed to heave off a chunk, then put it in the pan and watched it melt.
“Spencer, what are you doing?” That wasn’t Jack, it was Hotch, and Spencer glanced around quickly in surprise.
“Making breakfast,” he said. “Jack and I are going to have scrambled eggs with ketchup, but I can make some for you without.”
He stretched out sideways, putting one hand on the counter to support himself while he reached for the bowl of eggs, but his hand landed in the gooey remains of the raw egg and slipped right over the edge. Spencer crashed to the floor, landing hard on his side. “Oww!”
Hotch was already there, crouching down. “Are you hurt?”
“Uh,” he said, sitting up and breathing for a moment. He wasn’t hurt, but his hand was slimy. Without thinking, he wiped it on his shirt. “No, I’m fine.”
“All right, then it’s time out for you, and I’ll finish the eggs,” Hotch said.
“What?” Spencer gaped up at him in utter confusion. “Time out? For what?”
“Jack is not allowed to use the stove or the coffee machine, or the mixer, or anything else like that unless I am supervising him. And since you are younger than he is, you are not allowed, either,” Hotch explained, emphasizing the word “younger” just a little bit and giving Spencer a significant look. “And I’m putting you in time out so that you can think about what kind of example you’re setting for my son and what kind of danger Jack might get into if he tries to do what you’re doing now.”
Spencer hadn’t thought of that and felt suddenly drenched in deep shame. He’d only been thinking of proving that he could still do almost everything he’d been able to do as an adult, even though he was in a child’s body. Hotch helped him up, then kept one hand on his shoulder and led him over to a bare section of wall just outside the kitchen
“You stand here, no turning around, and no talking,” Hotch explained, pushing him gently forwards until his toes were just touching the wall. “If you try to get out early, I’ll start the timer again, otherwise, it’s one minute for each year of your age.”
“Twenty nine minutes?” Spencer exclaimed.
“Four.” Hotch corrected him. “I’m setting the timer now. Remember, no talking.”
“You have to think about what you did wrong, and what you can do better next time,” Jack put in helpfully.
“Thank you, Jack, but please don’t talk to Spencer when he’s in time out,” Hotch said.
Spencer stared down at the floor, listening to Hotch get a cannister of orange juice out of the freezer and stop by the stove to stir the eggs quickly. He was glad that none of the team was here to see him with his nose to the wall; it was even worse than being carried around like a baby.
“Dad, are you going to be here for my birthday?” Jack asked.
“I’m sure going to try,” Hotch replied. Well, Spencer thought, at least he wasn’t lying by saying yes.
“Is Spencer going to be here?”
“I don’t know, buddy. Come here, help me stir this orange juice.”
Spencer wanted to ask Jack when his birthday was, the better to help him calculate if he was going to be there or not, but remembered that Hotch had told him not to talk. He’d only said that he’d start the timer again if Spencer tried to get out of his punishment, but he might add another minute or even two for talking. Better not to risk it.
Eventually, the timer went off. Hotch said, “All right, Spencer, you can apologize and then sit down at the table.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” Spencer said quietly. As he went into the dining room and sat down to the table, Jack asked, “Aren’t you going to hug him, Dad?”
“Why would he hug me?” Spencer asked. Hotch looked as though he’d been about to ask the same question.
“Because that’s part of the whole time out thing,” Jack explained. For a single second, Hotch’s face lit up in realization, and then he smiled fondly down at his son.
“I’ll hug him if he wants,” Hotch said, lifting the pitcher of orange juice out of the sink and bringing it to the table. “Do you want a hug, Spencer?”
“No,” Spencer said, but he couldn’t help remembering how nice it had felt to be cuddled in Hotch’s arms after his nightmare.
“Don’t you like hugs?” Jack asked.
Spencer sidestepped the question. “I like it when my mom hugs me.”
“All right, boys, eat up.“ Hotch placed a plate of scrambled eggs dotted with ketchup in front of each of them, poured the orange juice, then went back to the stove to make more eggs for himself.
After taking two bites, Jack spit out the third one and exclaimed, “Yuck, Dad, this egg’s got eggshells in it. Can I have oatmeal instead?”
Spencer had found eggshell in his mouth, too, but had quietly cringed and swallowed anyway.
“I can get you a new egg, and we can have oatmeal to-morrow, how’s that?”
Jack considered the idea, and finally said, “Okay.”
“Okay.” Hotch cracked another egg into the pan. “Spencer? You want a new egg, too?”
Biting down on yet another piece of shell, Spencer glanced up, amazed that Hotch wasn’t forcing him to eat his mistakes. “Um, yeah. Thanks.“
After they’d all finished eating, Hotch said, “Put your things in the sink, boys, then go to Jack’s room while I get a shower and get dressed. Jack, we have to stop at the store and see if we can get a car seat for Spencer. That means we have to leave early for soccer, so I need you to get your soccer uniform on now.”
“Hey, Spencer, want to be on my soccer team?” Jack asked. “Dad, can Spencer be on my soccer team?”
“I don’t want to,” Spencer said. “And I need glasses, so I won’t be able to see the ball very well anyway. I should just stay here and read.”
“He won’t be on the team, but he is coming with us,” Hotch answered.
Spencer stared at him in dismay. “Do I have to?”
“You absolutely cannot stay here by yourself, Spencer, so, yes, you have to. But I will let you bring a book or two.”
“Thanks,” Spencer murmured sarcastically.
Hotch went on as though he hadn’t heard that. “And on Monday, I’ll see about getting you an appointment for an eye exam so we can get you new glasses.”
“Oh,” said Spencer. It took him a moment to recover from his surprise and switch his tone of voice. “Thanks, Hotch.”
Part 4
Part 2
Back to Criminal Minds page
“Jack?”
A light went on, and over his crying, he could hear the same sleepy voice say, “Reid – Spencer.”
Then Hotch gathered him up and hugged him tight, rocking slightly from side to side. “Spencer, it’s all right, it was just a dream, it’s okay, you’re safe.”
“Don’t leave me alone,” Spencer sobbed, clinging to Hotch with both arms and legs. “Not in the black hole!”
“You’re not alone, and you’re not in a black hole. You’re safe, I’ve got you. Everything’s all right.” Hotch held him close and continued to speak soothing phrases until Spencer was finally able to comprehend what he was saying and what had happened.
“I had a bad dream,” he finally said.
“You sure did,” Hotch affirmed. He still sounded like he was talking to his son.
“Where are we?” Spencer looked around. In the light of the small lamp, he could see utilitarian-looking beds, nighttables, desks, chairs, and wardrobes; one side of the room mirroring the other. It was nothing like the blue tunnel of lights or the room with the big mat; it reminded him more of a university dormitory
“At one of SHIELD’s research facilities. You fell asleep in the Quinjet.”
Spencer remembered the Quinjet, how one of the SHIELD agents had found a first-aid kit and a box of emergency protein bars for him to sit on so that the shoulder harness would fit. Another agent had gotten fast food for everybody, and they’d eaten while still on the ground, waiting for the rest of the SHIELD team to arrive. They’d finally come, carrying Dr Sakenfeld on a stretcher between them. He looked like they’d dragged him straight out of the OR, and even though Dr Sakenfeld was obviously asleep, Spencer was glad to see he’d been handcuffed to the stretcher as well. The agents had fastened the stretcher to the floor, and then they’d lifted off.
“What time is it now?”
Hotch’s grip shifted slightly as he moved his wrist to check his watch. “About two thirty a.m. Do you think you could go back to sleep for a while?”
“I need to go to the bathroom.”
“It’s over here.” Hotch carried him over to one of two doors at the end of the room, and switched on the light before putting him down. Even though it was still weird to be carried around by his boss, or at least it was still weird when he stopped to think about it, Spencer also noticed that every bit of his skin that had been contact with Hotch felt suddenly deprived and anxious for more touch. Firmly, he shut the door between them.
When Spencer came out again, Hotch was back in bed with his head propped up on one hand.
“I always tell Jack that talking about the bad dream makes it go away and never come back,” he said.
“Does it work?” Spencer asked.
“I think so,” Hotch replied. “He never has the same bad dream twice, but one or two have been a bit similar. Do you want to try it out?”
“No.” Spencer went over to his own bed and lifted the covers to get in. He’d barely placed his head on the pillow, though, when Hotch turned the lamp off, plunging the room back into absolute darkness. Sitting up in panic, he screeched, “Turn it back on, turn it back on!”
The light came back on instantly.
“Sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” Hotch said, then added, “You can come sleep in my bed, if it will make you feel better.”
“I—I’ll be okay,” Spencer said, but he stayed awake for a long time after Hotch had fallen asleep again.
The next day was filled with one test after another, medical procedures that ranged from simple to complicated, as well as cognitive and physical assessments. They even ran a few experiments on his emotions, the results of which confirmed Morgan’s theory that they had been de-aged, too. Hotch insisted that Spencer have at least fifteen minutes break after each test, sometimes longer, and every so often, made him go outside and walk around the buiilding as well, to “get the wiggles out.”
By the time Hotch dragged him outside in the afternoon for a yet another lap around the research centre, Spencer was starting to feel rebellious.
“I’d rather read a book for my break, Hotch, that’s more fun. Walking around the building is boring!”
“We don’t have to walk,” Hotch said. “You can run, and I’ll chase you, and every time I catch you, we can take a selfie for Je – for Garcia.”
“I’m walking, I’m walking, see,” Spencer replied, setting off. Hotch grabbed him anyway, held him up, and pointed his phone at both their faces.
“Come on, smile,” he urged as Spencer frowned in the direction of the screen.
“I don’t want to – Hotch, stop tickling me!” Spencer couldn’t help laughing, even as he squirmed to be set free. Hotch got two pictures, then finally put him down, and Spencer stomped away. “That’s not fair, Hotch!”
“No, but it was fun,” Hotch grinned.
“So is reciting all the digits in pi,” Spencer shot back. But on his way around the building, he realized Hotch had been suggesting something he regularly did with his son. His first reaction was guilt for being the sole reason that Hotch was away from Jack, but then he felt a powerful though short-lived wave of glee that the other man was hurting, even just a little bit, after he’d hurt Spencer so badly. Almost immediately, however, he remembered Hotch’s apology and his willingness to make amends, and felt ashamed of his burst of schadenfreude.
The next day, when Hotch suggested a form of tag that included him having to run to and touch the nearest tree before trying to catch Spencer, obviously something else he did with Jack, Spencer agreed. Not wanting to feel as though he were merely assuaging his guilt, however, he made his agreement conditional on being allowed to spend their lunchtime reading a psychology textbook that he begged from one of the doctors. Unfortunately, the book contained very little that he hadn’t come across before, and he found it just a little bit more satisfying to try and dodge out of Hotch’s way, seeing how many times he could zig and zag before getting tagged. They both ended up smiling by the end of the last round.
The last of Spencer’s tests ran longer than expected and they were late for supper in the SHIELD cafeteria. Spencer was hoping this meant that the crowd of SHIELD agents who just “happened” to be eating at the same time would be reduced, but they were gathered already, shamelessly waiting for yet another look at the boy wonder. It was like his first day at high school, over and over again, Spencer thought, keeping his gaze lowered as Hotch carried their tray of food to the only empty table. The SHIELD personal had gathered around every other table, ready to gawk at how Spencer climbed up onto a chair, ate his ravioli, chewed most of a salad, and drank his milk. Did they expect him to suddenly re-age, Spencer wondered, or turn into a green tentacled monster?
Then a young agent approached the table, staring fixedly at Hotch, and informed them that the one single Quinjet assigned to the research facility was otherwise in use. Someone would be available to drive them back to Quantico, but it would take closer to three hours instead of the scheduled thirty-minute flight. Spencer groaned quietly.
“We’ll have to delay the team meeting I was hoping to have,” Hotch said just as his phone buzzed. He checked the caller, then pressed the button.
“Hi, Rossi, I’m putting you on speaker.”
“Hi, how’s it going? Are they going to keep you much longer?”
“No, Reid’s just finished the tests, we’re driving home this evening.”
“Did they say anything about the results yet?”
“They say everything looks normal for someone who’s almost five, and they don’t expect him to suddenly revert back to being twenty nine, or – anything else.”
“He means they also don’t think I’m going to suddenly drop dead, or even regress back to being a sperm and an egg,” Spencer put in, and heard Rossi laugh heartily on the other end.
“They think he’ll just age normally, but of course they’re working on finding something to reverse it,” Hotch added.
“Any idea how long that will take?”
“They’re not even sure how long it took Dr Sakenfeld to make the damn thing in the first place,” Hotch said.
“But of course he’s done all the pioneering for the project, and they can piggy-back off his research, so it might take much less time,” Spencer pointed out.
“I hope you’re right, kid. Anyway, Aaron, we’ve got a new case. A series of child kidnappings in Colorado. So if you’re going to be joining us, then we have to decide what to do about Reid.”
“You don’t have to do anything about me,” Spencer said. He’d had plenty of opportunities in the last two days to lie around and think about how his new condition would affect his job, and he’d come to the conclusion that it would only be a hindrance if other people made it that way. “I can come, too. I’ll lay low in the hotel and work over video link, like I did with Garcia when I got shot.”
“No,” said Hotch and Rossi at the same time. Rossi was quicker to continue. “You absolutely cannot stay in the hotel by yourself.“
“Someone could stay with me, even though I wouldn’t really need it.”
“Look, Strauss and I have already discussed this a little bit on the phone,” Hotch said. That was news to Spencer, and he realized Hotch must have spoken to the Section Chief while he was asleep, the way he’d seen JJ and Will do when they didn’t want Henry interrupting, or even knowing what was going on. Spencer did not like being excluded as though he were a child, too.
“If you’re worried about child labour laws, the true question would be, are those laws valid in my case?” Spencer interrupted. “I mean, people with mental disabilities are allowed, even encouraged to work at whatever tasks they’re capable of, even though they might have the mind of a child in an adult’s body. But with me, it’s the other way around, I have the mind of an adult in a child’s body, and the labour I would be doing would be mental, not physical.”
“Actually, we didn’t get around to child labour laws, Reid, but that’s a good point. What we did decide was to wait until the Bureau has got the official test results, which should be soon. Once we have them, we’ll be in a better position to make a decision about how we will be handling the situation. But until then, Reid, you are officially on sick leave.”
“I’m not sick, Hotch, I’m just a little smaller,” Spencer felt obliged to point out.
“And a little more emotional, if I correctly recall the results of at least one of those tests,” Hotch said. Remembering which one he meant, Spencer cringed slightly.
“So, who do we know who can look after him for you?” Rossi asked. “Your sister-in-law, Jessica, looks after Jack, doesn’t she? Do you think –“
“No,” Hotch said. “I can’t ask her to do that. With Jack, it’s different, they’re family. And she needs time to do her regular job, too. I know she works mostly at home developing software, but I know she wouldn’t be able to concentrate on that and keep an eye on Spencer the whole time, too.”
“I guess putting him with Will and Henry is out, too,” Rossi said, and Hotch nodded. “Definitely out. Henry’s in daycare or with a neighbour when Will’s at work. And while I did consider the BAU’s emergency childcare centre –“
“Hotch, please don’t send me there.” Spencer tried not to give in to the emotions that his four-year-old self was on the verge of experiencing. “I’m not a child, I just look like one, and it will be a disaster.”
“Reid—“
But panic and desperation were starting to overwhelm him, and his speech became louder and faster and even took on a slightly whiny tone. “Just let me stay in the office with Garcia! I won’t cause any trouble, I won’t even work, I’ll just sit quietly and read and nobody will even know I’m there!”
“Reid!” Hotch gave him the official look of reprimand, and Spencer stopped babbling.
“I won’t be sending you to childcare, Reid, so relax. I’ve decided I’ll be sitting this case out. We both will.” Hotch turned his attention back to the phone. “Feel free to consult with me by phone if you need to, Rossi, but as Reid’s health care proxy, I have a duty of care towards him.”
“And it doesn’t hurt that you can spend a lazy weekend with your son, too,” Rossi replied.
Hotch smiled. “Guilty as charged, and showing no remorse whatsoever.”
“If I borrow Reid, can I play hooky from work sometime, too?” Rossi asked, amusement audible in his voice.
Spencer was sure that Hotch smirked, just the tiniest bit.
+++++
Spencer opened his eyes, sat up, and looked around. The room was lit only by a small nightlight, plugged into a socket near the floor, but eventually he was able to pick out a larger lamp on a nightstand next to him. He felt around for the switch, and when the bulb came on, he realized he was in Jack’s bedroom and Jack’s bed. He must have fallen asleep in the car, and Hotch had carried him inside, just like when they’d arrived at the SHIELD facility. And, just like then, he’d also removed Spencer’s jeans and let him sleep in his T-shirt and underwear.
Spencer got up and went towards the bedroom door. There was a dark, lumpy form on the floor at the end of the bed, and for one terrifying moment, he imagined it was an Unsub, lying in wait. He could even hear breathing. But then the lump shifted slightly, and Spencer realized it was actually Jack in a sleeping bag. Beyond him, in front of the closet and the chest of drawers, Spencer could see his messenger bag and his go-bag, with his jeans laid out neatly on top. Feeling faintly ridiculous, Spencer moved around Jack, careful not to step on him, and got dressed.
In the kitchen, the microwave clock said it was almost seven. The house was nicely quiet, and Spencer realized it was the first time he’d been completely alone since his de-aging. It seemed like the perfect time to make some coffee, or rather, coffee-flavoured milk, since he wanted a little bit of caffeine without suffering the effects of too much, and then he’d grab one of Hotch’s books to read. But Hotch’s coffee machine was too far back on the counter for him to reach from where he stood, and he had to move a chair from the dining room and climb up on it.
Spencer had just got the coffee going when he heard rapid footsteps approaching.
“Dad – oh.” It was Jack, staring up at him in dismay, but then the disappointment faded from his face and he looked almost cheerful as he said, “You’re Spencer, right? I’m Jack.”
“Hi, Jack,” Spencer said. They’d met before – Spencer had come over several times in the last few months – but of course Jack wouldn’t know him in his current form. Hotch must have spoken to him the night before to prepare him for younger Spencer’s presence.
“What are you doing?”
“Making coffee. Do you want some?”
“Coffee tastes yucky,” Jack said. “And Dad said it’s only for adults.”
“Well, I have adult tastes,” Spencer said. He got down from the chair and went to the fridge for a carton of milk. He had to use both hands to carry it.
“Dad always makes me oatmeal and orange juice for breakfast,” Jack said, watching as Spencer deposited the milk safely on the counter, then went back to shut the fridge door.
“I can make orange juice, too,” Spencer said, ignoring the oatmeal part. Spotting an egg carton on a lower shelf, he added, “And I can make scrambled eggs, fried eggs, and cheese omelets. Do you want eggs for breakfast?”
“I like scrambled eggs with ketchup,” Jack said. Spencer had never eaten scrambled eggs with ketchup before, but it actually sounded like a good idea. He grabbed the egg carton with one hand, securing it against his stomach, then reached for the bottle of ketchup in the door.
“Now we need a bowl and a fork,” Spencer said, settling the ketchup next to the milk, then lifting up the egg carton next.
Jack pointed out the correct cabinet for bowls, and got a fork from the drawer. Getting back up on the chair, Spencer cracked an egg against the side of the bowl, but he still wasn’t used to the less-developed fine motor control of his smaller body, or rather, the almost complete lack of it. The egg smashed and slid down onto the counter. Grimacing, Spencer held the bowl just under the edge of the counter and used his hand to sweep the egg, shell and all, into it.
“Now you’ve got all that eggshell in there,” Jack said.
“I’ll get it out,” Spencer said, picking at it. It wasn’t as easy as he remembered, and there weren’t many larger pieces of shell that he could use to get the smaller ones out, but eventually, he managed to remove all the pieces he could see. After wiping his hands on a towel, he tried again with the other egg, tapping it so gently that he had to try six times to get it to crack.
“Do you have a salt shaker?” Spencer asked, and picked out more pieces of shell while Jack fetched the salt from the table. The third egg went in almost perfectly, and Spencer shook the salt over the bowl three times, then mixed the eggs with a fork. Only a little bit slopped over the side.
“Do you know where your dad keeps the pans?”
“In here.” Jack opened one of the lower cabinets and pulled out a huge drawer full of pots and pans and lids. Spencer selected a Teflon pan, then moved the chair from the coffee maker over to the stove and got up. He put the pan on the burner and turned it on, then realized he was missing something.
“Do you have a spatula?” he asked. “And can you get the butter out of the fridge?”
But Jack’s helpfulness ended there. “Dad says I can’t use the stove unless he’s there, and you’re smaller than I am, so you’re not allowed to use it, either.”
“I know how to cook,” Spencer retorted, reaching over to the drawer where Jack had found the fork earlier. He almost fell off the chair, so he got down and tried again, then checked the drawer underneath and found the spatula. Jack turned around and raced out of the kitchen, so Spencer got the butter out of the fridge by himself. Using both hands on the handle of the spatula, he pushed the edge of it into the stick of butter and managed to heave off a chunk, then put it in the pan and watched it melt.
“Spencer, what are you doing?” That wasn’t Jack, it was Hotch, and Spencer glanced around quickly in surprise.
“Making breakfast,” he said. “Jack and I are going to have scrambled eggs with ketchup, but I can make some for you without.”
He stretched out sideways, putting one hand on the counter to support himself while he reached for the bowl of eggs, but his hand landed in the gooey remains of the raw egg and slipped right over the edge. Spencer crashed to the floor, landing hard on his side. “Oww!”
Hotch was already there, crouching down. “Are you hurt?”
“Uh,” he said, sitting up and breathing for a moment. He wasn’t hurt, but his hand was slimy. Without thinking, he wiped it on his shirt. “No, I’m fine.”
“All right, then it’s time out for you, and I’ll finish the eggs,” Hotch said.
“What?” Spencer gaped up at him in utter confusion. “Time out? For what?”
“Jack is not allowed to use the stove or the coffee machine, or the mixer, or anything else like that unless I am supervising him. And since you are younger than he is, you are not allowed, either,” Hotch explained, emphasizing the word “younger” just a little bit and giving Spencer a significant look. “And I’m putting you in time out so that you can think about what kind of example you’re setting for my son and what kind of danger Jack might get into if he tries to do what you’re doing now.”
Spencer hadn’t thought of that and felt suddenly drenched in deep shame. He’d only been thinking of proving that he could still do almost everything he’d been able to do as an adult, even though he was in a child’s body. Hotch helped him up, then kept one hand on his shoulder and led him over to a bare section of wall just outside the kitchen
“You stand here, no turning around, and no talking,” Hotch explained, pushing him gently forwards until his toes were just touching the wall. “If you try to get out early, I’ll start the timer again, otherwise, it’s one minute for each year of your age.”
“Twenty nine minutes?” Spencer exclaimed.
“Four.” Hotch corrected him. “I’m setting the timer now. Remember, no talking.”
“You have to think about what you did wrong, and what you can do better next time,” Jack put in helpfully.
“Thank you, Jack, but please don’t talk to Spencer when he’s in time out,” Hotch said.
Spencer stared down at the floor, listening to Hotch get a cannister of orange juice out of the freezer and stop by the stove to stir the eggs quickly. He was glad that none of the team was here to see him with his nose to the wall; it was even worse than being carried around like a baby.
“Dad, are you going to be here for my birthday?” Jack asked.
“I’m sure going to try,” Hotch replied. Well, Spencer thought, at least he wasn’t lying by saying yes.
“Is Spencer going to be here?”
“I don’t know, buddy. Come here, help me stir this orange juice.”
Spencer wanted to ask Jack when his birthday was, the better to help him calculate if he was going to be there or not, but remembered that Hotch had told him not to talk. He’d only said that he’d start the timer again if Spencer tried to get out of his punishment, but he might add another minute or even two for talking. Better not to risk it.
Eventually, the timer went off. Hotch said, “All right, Spencer, you can apologize and then sit down at the table.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” Spencer said quietly. As he went into the dining room and sat down to the table, Jack asked, “Aren’t you going to hug him, Dad?”
“Why would he hug me?” Spencer asked. Hotch looked as though he’d been about to ask the same question.
“Because that’s part of the whole time out thing,” Jack explained. For a single second, Hotch’s face lit up in realization, and then he smiled fondly down at his son.
“I’ll hug him if he wants,” Hotch said, lifting the pitcher of orange juice out of the sink and bringing it to the table. “Do you want a hug, Spencer?”
“No,” Spencer said, but he couldn’t help remembering how nice it had felt to be cuddled in Hotch’s arms after his nightmare.
“Don’t you like hugs?” Jack asked.
Spencer sidestepped the question. “I like it when my mom hugs me.”
“All right, boys, eat up.“ Hotch placed a plate of scrambled eggs dotted with ketchup in front of each of them, poured the orange juice, then went back to the stove to make more eggs for himself.
After taking two bites, Jack spit out the third one and exclaimed, “Yuck, Dad, this egg’s got eggshells in it. Can I have oatmeal instead?”
Spencer had found eggshell in his mouth, too, but had quietly cringed and swallowed anyway.
“I can get you a new egg, and we can have oatmeal to-morrow, how’s that?”
Jack considered the idea, and finally said, “Okay.”
“Okay.” Hotch cracked another egg into the pan. “Spencer? You want a new egg, too?”
Biting down on yet another piece of shell, Spencer glanced up, amazed that Hotch wasn’t forcing him to eat his mistakes. “Um, yeah. Thanks.“
After they’d all finished eating, Hotch said, “Put your things in the sink, boys, then go to Jack’s room while I get a shower and get dressed. Jack, we have to stop at the store and see if we can get a car seat for Spencer. That means we have to leave early for soccer, so I need you to get your soccer uniform on now.”
“Hey, Spencer, want to be on my soccer team?” Jack asked. “Dad, can Spencer be on my soccer team?”
“I don’t want to,” Spencer said. “And I need glasses, so I won’t be able to see the ball very well anyway. I should just stay here and read.”
“He won’t be on the team, but he is coming with us,” Hotch answered.
Spencer stared at him in dismay. “Do I have to?”
“You absolutely cannot stay here by yourself, Spencer, so, yes, you have to. But I will let you bring a book or two.”
“Thanks,” Spencer murmured sarcastically.
Hotch went on as though he hadn’t heard that. “And on Monday, I’ll see about getting you an appointment for an eye exam so we can get you new glasses.”
“Oh,” said Spencer. It took him a moment to recover from his surprise and switch his tone of voice. “Thanks, Hotch.”
Hotch and JJ both pushed Spencer at the same time, and he fell into the circle of blue lights, except that they went out, and everything was dark, and he couldn’t even see their faces anymore, and he was alone, all alone in the completely black hole, and he screamed and screamed and –
“Jack?”
A light went on, and over his crying, he could hear the same sleepy voice say, “Reid – Spencer.”
Then Hotch gathered him up and hugged him tight, rocking slightly from side to side. “Spencer, it’s all right, it was just a dream, it’s okay, you’re safe.”
“Don’t leave me alone,” Spencer sobbed, clinging to Hotch with both arms and legs. “Not in the black hole!”
“You’re not alone, and you’re not in a black hole. You’re safe, I’ve got you. Everything’s all right.” Hotch held him close and continued to speak soothing phrases until Spencer was finally able to comprehend what he was saying and what had happened.
“I had a bad dream,” he finally said.
“You sure did,” Hotch affirmed. He still sounded like he was talking to his son.
“Where are we?” Spencer looked around. In the light of the small lamp, he could see utilitarian-looking beds, nighttables, desks, chairs, and wardrobes; one side of the room mirroring the other. It was nothing like the blue tunnel of lights or the room with the big mat; it reminded him more of a university dormitory
“At one of SHIELD’s research facilities. You fell asleep in the Quinjet.”
Spencer remembered the Quinjet, how one of the SHIELD agents had found a first-aid kit and a box of emergency protein bars for him to sit on so that the shoulder harness would fit. Another agent had gotten fast food for everybody, and they’d eaten while still on the ground, waiting for the rest of the SHIELD team to arrive. They’d finally come, carrying Dr Sakenfeld on a stretcher between them. He looked like they’d dragged him straight out of the OR, and even though Dr Sakenfeld was obviously asleep, Spencer was glad to see he’d been handcuffed to the stretcher as well. The agents had fastened the stretcher to the floor, and then they’d lifted off.
“What time is it now?”
Hotch’s grip shifted slightly as he moved his wrist to check his watch. “About two thirty a.m. Do you think you could go back to sleep for a while?”
“I need to go to the bathroom.”
“It’s over here.” Hotch carried him over to one of two doors at the end of the room, and switched on the light before putting him down. Even though it was still weird to be carried around by his boss, or at least it was still weird when he stopped to think about it, Spencer also noticed that every bit of his skin that had been contact with Hotch felt suddenly deprived and anxious for more touch. Firmly, he shut the door between them.
When Spencer came out again, Hotch was back in bed with his head propped up on one hand.
“I always tell Jack that talking about the bad dream makes it go away and never come back,” he said.
“Does it work?” Spencer asked.
“I think so,” Hotch replied. “He never has the same bad dream twice, but one or two have been a bit similar. Do you want to try it out?”
“No.” Spencer went over to his own bed and lifted the covers to get in. He’d barely placed his head on the pillow, though, when Hotch turned the lamp off, plunging the room back into absolute darkness. Sitting up in panic, he screeched, “Turn it back on, turn it back on!”
The light came back on instantly.
“Sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” Hotch said, then added, “You can come sleep in my bed, if it will make you feel better.”
“I—I’ll be okay,” Spencer said, but he stayed awake for a long time after Hotch had fallen asleep again.
The next day was filled with one test after another, medical procedures that ranged from simple to complicated, as well as cognitive and physical assessments. They even ran a few experiments on his emotions, the results of which confirmed Morgan’s theory that they had been de-aged, too. Hotch insisted that Spencer have at least fifteen minutes break after each test, sometimes longer, and every so often, made him go outside and walk around the buiilding as well, to “get the wiggles out.”
By the time Hotch dragged him outside in the afternoon for a yet another lap around the research centre, Spencer was starting to feel rebellious.
“I’d rather read a book for my break, Hotch, that’s more fun. Walking around the building is boring!”
“We don’t have to walk,” Hotch said. “You can run, and I’ll chase you, and every time I catch you, we can take a selfie for Je – for Garcia.”
“I’m walking, I’m walking, see,” Spencer replied, setting off. Hotch grabbed him anyway, held him up, and pointed his phone at both their faces.
“Come on, smile,” he urged as Spencer frowned in the direction of the screen.
“I don’t want to – Hotch, stop tickling me!” Spencer couldn’t help laughing, even as he squirmed to be set free. Hotch got two pictures, then finally put him down, and Spencer stomped away. “That’s not fair, Hotch!”
“No, but it was fun,” Hotch grinned.
“So is reciting all the digits in pi,” Spencer shot back. But on his way around the building, he realized Hotch had been suggesting something he regularly did with his son. His first reaction was guilt for being the sole reason that Hotch was away from Jack, but then he felt a powerful though short-lived wave of glee that the other man was hurting, even just a little bit, after he’d hurt Spencer so badly. Almost immediately, however, he remembered Hotch’s apology and his willingness to make amends, and felt ashamed of his burst of schadenfreude.
The next day, when Hotch suggested a form of tag that included him having to run to and touch the nearest tree before trying to catch Spencer, obviously something else he did with Jack, Spencer agreed. Not wanting to feel as though he were merely assuaging his guilt, however, he made his agreement conditional on being allowed to spend their lunchtime reading a psychology textbook that he begged from one of the doctors. Unfortunately, the book contained very little that he hadn’t come across before, and he found it just a little bit more satisfying to try and dodge out of Hotch’s way, seeing how many times he could zig and zag before getting tagged. They both ended up smiling by the end of the last round.
The last of Spencer’s tests ran longer than expected and they were late for supper in the SHIELD cafeteria. Spencer was hoping this meant that the crowd of SHIELD agents who just “happened” to be eating at the same time would be reduced, but they were gathered already, shamelessly waiting for yet another look at the boy wonder. It was like his first day at high school, over and over again, Spencer thought, keeping his gaze lowered as Hotch carried their tray of food to the only empty table. The SHIELD personal had gathered around every other table, ready to gawk at how Spencer climbed up onto a chair, ate his ravioli, chewed most of a salad, and drank his milk. Did they expect him to suddenly re-age, Spencer wondered, or turn into a green tentacled monster?
Then a young agent approached the table, staring fixedly at Hotch, and informed them that the one single Quinjet assigned to the research facility was otherwise in use. Someone would be available to drive them back to Quantico, but it would take closer to three hours instead of the scheduled thirty-minute flight. Spencer groaned quietly.
“We’ll have to delay the team meeting I was hoping to have,” Hotch said just as his phone buzzed. He checked the caller, then pressed the button.
“Hi, Rossi, I’m putting you on speaker.”
“Hi, how’s it going? Are they going to keep you much longer?”
“No, Reid’s just finished the tests, we’re driving home this evening.”
“Did they say anything about the results yet?”
“They say everything looks normal for someone who’s almost five, and they don’t expect him to suddenly revert back to being twenty nine, or – anything else.”
“He means they also don’t think I’m going to suddenly drop dead, or even regress back to being a sperm and an egg,” Spencer put in, and heard Rossi laugh heartily on the other end.
“They think he’ll just age normally, but of course they’re working on finding something to reverse it,” Hotch added.
“Any idea how long that will take?”
“They’re not even sure how long it took Dr Sakenfeld to make the damn thing in the first place,” Hotch said.
“But of course he’s done all the pioneering for the project, and they can piggy-back off his research, so it might take much less time,” Spencer pointed out.
“I hope you’re right, kid. Anyway, Aaron, we’ve got a new case. A series of child kidnappings in Colorado. So if you’re going to be joining us, then we have to decide what to do about Reid.”
“You don’t have to do anything about me,” Spencer said. He’d had plenty of opportunities in the last two days to lie around and think about how his new condition would affect his job, and he’d come to the conclusion that it would only be a hindrance if other people made it that way. “I can come, too. I’ll lay low in the hotel and work over video link, like I did with Garcia when I got shot.”
“No,” said Hotch and Rossi at the same time. Rossi was quicker to continue. “You absolutely cannot stay in the hotel by yourself.“
“Someone could stay with me, even though I wouldn’t really need it.”
“Look, Strauss and I have already discussed this a little bit on the phone,” Hotch said. That was news to Spencer, and he realized Hotch must have spoken to the Section Chief while he was asleep, the way he’d seen JJ and Will do when they didn’t want Henry interrupting, or even knowing what was going on. Spencer did not like being excluded as though he were a child, too.
“If you’re worried about child labour laws, the true question would be, are those laws valid in my case?” Spencer interrupted. “I mean, people with mental disabilities are allowed, even encouraged to work at whatever tasks they’re capable of, even though they might have the mind of a child in an adult’s body. But with me, it’s the other way around, I have the mind of an adult in a child’s body, and the labour I would be doing would be mental, not physical.”
“Actually, we didn’t get around to child labour laws, Reid, but that’s a good point. What we did decide was to wait until the Bureau has got the official test results, which should be soon. Once we have them, we’ll be in a better position to make a decision about how we will be handling the situation. But until then, Reid, you are officially on sick leave.”
“I’m not sick, Hotch, I’m just a little smaller,” Spencer felt obliged to point out.
“And a little more emotional, if I correctly recall the results of at least one of those tests,” Hotch said. Remembering which one he meant, Spencer cringed slightly.
“So, who do we know who can look after him for you?” Rossi asked. “Your sister-in-law, Jessica, looks after Jack, doesn’t she? Do you think –“
“No,” Hotch said. “I can’t ask her to do that. With Jack, it’s different, they’re family. And she needs time to do her regular job, too. I know she works mostly at home developing software, but I know she wouldn’t be able to concentrate on that and keep an eye on Spencer the whole time, too.”
“I guess putting him with Will and Henry is out, too,” Rossi said, and Hotch nodded. “Definitely out. Henry’s in daycare or with a neighbour when Will’s at work. And while I did consider the BAU’s emergency childcare centre –“
“Hotch, please don’t send me there.” Spencer tried not to give in to the emotions that his four-year-old self was on the verge of experiencing. “I’m not a child, I just look like one, and it will be a disaster.”
“Reid—“
But panic and desperation were starting to overwhelm him, and his speech became louder and faster and even took on a slightly whiny tone. “Just let me stay in the office with Garcia! I won’t cause any trouble, I won’t even work, I’ll just sit quietly and read and nobody will even know I’m there!”
“Reid!” Hotch gave him the official look of reprimand, and Spencer stopped babbling.
“I won’t be sending you to childcare, Reid, so relax. I’ve decided I’ll be sitting this case out. We both will.” Hotch turned his attention back to the phone. “Feel free to consult with me by phone if you need to, Rossi, but as Reid’s health care proxy, I have a duty of care towards him.”
“And it doesn’t hurt that you can spend a lazy weekend with your son, too,” Rossi replied.
Hotch smiled. “Guilty as charged, and showing no remorse whatsoever.”
“If I borrow Reid, can I play hooky from work sometime, too?” Rossi asked, amusement audible in his voice.
Spencer was sure that Hotch smirked, just the tiniest bit.
+++++
Spencer opened his eyes, sat up, and looked around. The room was lit only by a small nightlight, plugged into a socket near the floor, but eventually he was able to pick out a larger lamp on a nightstand next to him. He felt around for the switch, and when the bulb came on, he realized he was in Jack’s bedroom and Jack’s bed. He must have fallen asleep in the car, and Hotch had carried him inside, just like when they’d arrived at the SHIELD facility. And, just like then, he’d also removed Spencer’s jeans and let him sleep in his T-shirt and underwear.
Spencer got up and went towards the bedroom door. There was a dark, lumpy form on the floor at the end of the bed, and for one terrifying moment, he imagined it was an Unsub, lying in wait. He could even hear breathing. But then the lump shifted slightly, and Spencer realized it was actually Jack in a sleeping bag. Beyond him, in front of the closet and the chest of drawers, Spencer could see his messenger bag and his go-bag, with his jeans laid out neatly on top. Feeling faintly ridiculous, Spencer moved around Jack, careful not to step on him, and got dressed.
In the kitchen, the microwave clock said it was almost seven. The house was nicely quiet, and Spencer realized it was the first time he’d been completely alone since his de-aging. It seemed like the perfect time to make some coffee, or rather, coffee-flavoured milk, since he wanted a little bit of caffeine without suffering the effects of too much, and then he’d grab one of Hotch’s books to read. But Hotch’s coffee machine was too far back on the counter for him to reach from where he stood, and he had to move a chair from the dining room and climb up on it.
Spencer had just got the coffee going when he heard rapid footsteps approaching.
“Dad – oh.” It was Jack, staring up at him in dismay, but then the disappointment faded from his face and he looked almost cheerful as he said, “You’re Spencer, right? I’m Jack.”
“Hi, Jack,” Spencer said. They’d met before – Spencer had come over several times in the last few months – but of course Jack wouldn’t know him in his current form. Hotch must have spoken to him the night before to prepare him for younger Spencer’s presence.
“What are you doing?”
“Making coffee. Do you want some?”
“Coffee tastes yucky,” Jack said. “And Dad said it’s only for adults.”
“Well, I have adult tastes,” Spencer said. He got down from the chair and went to the fridge for a carton of milk. He had to use both hands to carry it.
“Dad always makes me oatmeal and orange juice for breakfast,” Jack said, watching as Spencer deposited the milk safely on the counter, then went back to shut the fridge door.
“I can make orange juice, too,” Spencer said, ignoring the oatmeal part. Spotting an egg carton on a lower shelf, he added, “And I can make scrambled eggs, fried eggs, and cheese omelets. Do you want eggs for breakfast?”
“I like scrambled eggs with ketchup,” Jack said. Spencer had never eaten scrambled eggs with ketchup before, but it actually sounded like a good idea. He grabbed the egg carton with one hand, securing it against his stomach, then reached for the bottle of ketchup in the door.
“Now we need a bowl and a fork,” Spencer said, settling the ketchup next to the milk, then lifting up the egg carton next.
Jack pointed out the correct cabinet for bowls, and got a fork from the drawer. Getting back up on the chair, Spencer cracked an egg against the side of the bowl, but he still wasn’t used to the less-developed fine motor control of his smaller body, or rather, the almost complete lack of it. The egg smashed and slid down onto the counter. Grimacing, Spencer held the bowl just under the edge of the counter and used his hand to sweep the egg, shell and all, into it.
“Now you’ve got all that eggshell in there,” Jack said.
“I’ll get it out,” Spencer said, picking at it. It wasn’t as easy as he remembered, and there weren’t many larger pieces of shell that he could use to get the smaller ones out, but eventually, he managed to remove all the pieces he could see. After wiping his hands on a towel, he tried again with the other egg, tapping it so gently that he had to try six times to get it to crack.
“Do you have a salt shaker?” Spencer asked, and picked out more pieces of shell while Jack fetched the salt from the table. The third egg went in almost perfectly, and Spencer shook the salt over the bowl three times, then mixed the eggs with a fork. Only a little bit slopped over the side.
“Do you know where your dad keeps the pans?”
“In here.” Jack opened one of the lower cabinets and pulled out a huge drawer full of pots and pans and lids. Spencer selected a Teflon pan, then moved the chair from the coffee maker over to the stove and got up. He put the pan on the burner and turned it on, then realized he was missing something.
“Do you have a spatula?” he asked. “And can you get the butter out of the fridge?”
But Jack’s helpfulness ended there. “Dad says I can’t use the stove unless he’s there, and you’re smaller than I am, so you’re not allowed to use it, either.”
“I know how to cook,” Spencer retorted, reaching over to the drawer where Jack had found the fork earlier. He almost fell off the chair, so he got down and tried again, then checked the drawer underneath and found the spatula. Jack turned around and raced out of the kitchen, so Spencer got the butter out of the fridge by himself. Using both hands on the handle of the spatula, he pushed the edge of it into the stick of butter and managed to heave off a chunk, then put it in the pan and watched it melt.
“Spencer, what are you doing?” That wasn’t Jack, it was Hotch, and Spencer glanced around quickly in surprise.
“Making breakfast,” he said. “Jack and I are going to have scrambled eggs with ketchup, but I can make some for you without.”
He stretched out sideways, putting one hand on the counter to support himself while he reached for the bowl of eggs, but his hand landed in the gooey remains of the raw egg and slipped right over the edge. Spencer crashed to the floor, landing hard on his side. “Oww!”
Hotch was already there, crouching down. “Are you hurt?”
“Uh,” he said, sitting up and breathing for a moment. He wasn’t hurt, but his hand was slimy. Without thinking, he wiped it on his shirt. “No, I’m fine.”
“All right, then it’s time out for you, and I’ll finish the eggs,” Hotch said.
“What?” Spencer gaped up at him in utter confusion. “Time out? For what?”
“Jack is not allowed to use the stove or the coffee machine, or the mixer, or anything else like that unless I am supervising him. And since you are younger than he is, you are not allowed, either,” Hotch explained, emphasizing the word “younger” just a little bit and giving Spencer a significant look. “And I’m putting you in time out so that you can think about what kind of example you’re setting for my son and what kind of danger Jack might get into if he tries to do what you’re doing now.”
Spencer hadn’t thought of that and felt suddenly drenched in deep shame. He’d only been thinking of proving that he could still do almost everything he’d been able to do as an adult, even though he was in a child’s body. Hotch helped him up, then kept one hand on his shoulder and led him over to a bare section of wall just outside the kitchen
“You stand here, no turning around, and no talking,” Hotch explained, pushing him gently forwards until his toes were just touching the wall. “If you try to get out early, I’ll start the timer again, otherwise, it’s one minute for each year of your age.”
“Twenty nine minutes?” Spencer exclaimed.
“Four.” Hotch corrected him. “I’m setting the timer now. Remember, no talking.”
“You have to think about what you did wrong, and what you can do better next time,” Jack put in helpfully.
“Thank you, Jack, but please don’t talk to Spencer when he’s in time out,” Hotch said.
Spencer stared down at the floor, listening to Hotch get a cannister of orange juice out of the freezer and stop by the stove to stir the eggs quickly. He was glad that none of the team was here to see him with his nose to the wall; it was even worse than being carried around like a baby.
“Dad, are you going to be here for my birthday?” Jack asked.
“I’m sure going to try,” Hotch replied. Well, Spencer thought, at least he wasn’t lying by saying yes.
“Is Spencer going to be here?”
“I don’t know, buddy. Come here, help me stir this orange juice.”
Spencer wanted to ask Jack when his birthday was, the better to help him calculate if he was going to be there or not, but remembered that Hotch had told him not to talk. He’d only said that he’d start the timer again if Spencer tried to get out of his punishment, but he might add another minute or even two for talking. Better not to risk it.
Eventually, the timer went off. Hotch said, “All right, Spencer, you can apologize and then sit down at the table.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” Spencer said quietly. As he went into the dining room and sat down to the table, Jack asked, “Aren’t you going to hug him, Dad?”
“Why would he hug me?” Spencer asked. Hotch looked as though he’d been about to ask the same question.
“Because that’s part of the whole time out thing,” Jack explained. For a single second, Hotch’s face lit up in realization, and then he smiled fondly down at his son.
“I’ll hug him if he wants,” Hotch said, lifting the pitcher of orange juice out of the sink and bringing it to the table. “Do you want a hug, Spencer?”
“No,” Spencer said, but he couldn’t help remembering how nice it had felt to be cuddled in Hotch’s arms after his nightmare.
“Don’t you like hugs?” Jack asked.
Spencer sidestepped the question. “I like it when my mom hugs me.”
“All right, boys, eat up.“ Hotch placed a plate of scrambled eggs dotted with ketchup in front of each of them, poured the orange juice, then went back to the stove to make more eggs for himself.
After taking two bites, Jack spit out the third one and exclaimed, “Yuck, Dad, this egg’s got eggshells in it. Can I have oatmeal instead?”
Spencer had found eggshell in his mouth, too, but had quietly cringed and swallowed anyway.
“I can get you a new egg, and we can have oatmeal to-morrow, how’s that?”
Jack considered the idea, and finally said, “Okay.”
“Okay.” Hotch cracked another egg into the pan. “Spencer? You want a new egg, too?”
Biting down on yet another piece of shell, Spencer glanced up, amazed that Hotch wasn’t forcing him to eat his mistakes. “Um, yeah. Thanks.“
After they’d all finished eating, Hotch said, “Put your things in the sink, boys, then go to Jack’s room while I get a shower and get dressed. Jack, we have to stop at the store and see if we can get a car seat for Spencer. That means we have to leave early for soccer, so I need you to get your soccer uniform on now.”
“Hey, Spencer, want to be on my soccer team?” Jack asked. “Dad, can Spencer be on my soccer team?”
“I don’t want to,” Spencer said. “And I need glasses, so I won’t be able to see the ball very well anyway. I should just stay here and read.”
“He won’t be on the team, but he is coming with us,” Hotch answered.
Spencer stared at him in dismay. “Do I have to?”
“You absolutely cannot stay here by yourself, Spencer, so, yes, you have to. But I will let you bring a book or two.”
“Thanks,” Spencer murmured sarcastically.
Hotch went on as though he hadn’t heard that. “And on Monday, I’ll see about getting you an appointment for an eye exam so we can get you new glasses.”
“Oh,” said Spencer. It took him a moment to recover from his surprise and switch his tone of voice. “Thanks, Hotch.”
Part 4
Part 2
Back to Criminal Minds page