Second Childhood
Part 5
At the BAU the next morning, Strauss met them at the door to her office, and after giving Hotch a perfunctory greeting, she looked down at Spencer and said, “Dr Reid … I still find it hard to believe this has actually happened.”
“Do you want more evidence to prove it?” Spencer asked. “Because I think Dr Kimura at the CDC has some of my tissue samples from when I inhaled anthrax during the Chad Brown case, so you can take a DNA test to compare them. Do you have a swab handy? I can do it myself, or would you rather?”
He opened his mouth obligingly, but when Strauss showed no signs of wanting to scrape the inside of his cheek, he went on. “I would offer to show you the scars from when I got shot in the leg while trying to protect Dr Tom Barton, but they’re not there anymore. Actually, I’ve been wondering if they’ll come back. If SHIELD re-ages the cells of this body, and the scar tissue isn’t present, then I probably won’t have the scars when I’m an adult again, but if they find a way to truly reverse the procedure, like re-winding a video cassette, then the scars –“
“All right, thank you, Dr Reid. Come in and sit down, both of you.”
She shut the door behind them, then went around to sit behind her desk. “You would not believe the rumours that have been going around here these last few days.”
“It wasn’t aliens,” Spencer told her.
Her lips twitched in the beginnings of a grimace. “That isn’t even the worst of the theories.
But since we’re here to discuss facts and not rumours, I spent all day yesterday reviewing the test results that SHIELD sent over, trying to decide what we’re going to do with you.”
“I thought we were going to decide that together,” Hotch said.
Strauss frowned slightly. “Well, Aaron, I’m sure you’ll agree with me that the best solution would be for us to place Dr Reid back in the custody of his father –“
Spencer felt suddenly sick with fear. His nightmare was coming true! Hotch was going to agree, he just knew it. It made sense; Hotch couldn’t be expected to take a month-long leave of absence just to care for a member of his team. Rossi had called it; Hotch had happily used Spencer to get a few extra days with his son, but no doubt he was itching to get back to work, even more than Spencer himself was. Now he was going to abandon Spencer to the “tender loving care” of his father, despite having comforted Spencer through the nightmare of this exact scenario, despite knowing how Spencer felt about the man who’d walked out on him and his mother. It was an even worse betrayal than neglecting to mention that Emily had been alive the whole time.
“No,” said Hotch, and Spencer snapped his attention back to Strauss’s office. Had he heard correctly?
Strauss’s frown became more severe. “Now I understand that Mr Reid walked out on his wife because of her health problems, but since she’s no longer in the picture, so to speak ---“
“No, his father walked out on them because he did not know how to deal with his son,” Hotch said, emphasizing the last two words, and Spencer stared up at him in amazement. Was he really …?
Hotch went on. “His father admitted candidly that he did not know how to take care of Spencer. No mention of his wife, just his son, and that was when Sp—Dr Reid – was eleven, both physically and mentally. Dr Reid now has the mind of a twenty nine year old genius in the body of a four-year-old child, and I think you’ll agree with me, Chief Strauss, that putting Dr Reid back into the custody of his father would be child endangerment at the very least.”
He really was! Hotch was really taking Spencer’s side! Spencer felt most of the terror around his heart dissolve into astonished relief and gratitude. But there was still Strauss to worry about, and she was staring at Hotch as though he were the one who should be in a mental institution.
“Do you have a better idea, Agent Hotchner?” she asked coldly.
“I’m willing to care for him as though he were my own son. In fact, if the process cannot be reversed, I’m willing to adopt him,” Hotch stated.
Spencer gaped. Strauss gaped. There was a long moment of stunned silence, and then Strauss regained her voice first. “So you’d treat him the same way you treat your son? You’ll send him to school and have your sister-in-law look after him whenever you’re away on a case or otherwise can’t be there?”
“Not exactly,” Hotch said. “You know that Dr Reid still retains his memories and all the experience he’s gained working here at the BAU. With a few accomodations, he could still continue to work with the team.”
Strauss narrowed her eyes. “What kind of accomodations?”
The ensuing discussion took three hours, but in the end, they’d not only come to an agreement, but had also hammered out every possible detail they could think of, including a new official identity for Spencer. Finally, Strauss put an end to the meeting by claiming that she had other appointments, and since Hotch now had to talk to Garcia about some of the accomodations needing to be put into place, they would adjourn and talk again later as necessary.
“Thank you for your willingness to compromise,” Hotch told her.
“That’s just what I was about to say to you,” she said, and smiled a genuine smile for the first time that day. Then she looked down at Spencer. “Good luck, Dr Reid. I hope they can find a way to reverse the process soon.”
“Thank you,” he said.
Out in the corridor, Spencer asked, “Hotch, can we stop by your office before we visit Garcia?”
“Are you trying to get your hands on more of my law books? At this rate, you’ll be able to take the bar exam before Halloween.”
“Actually, I’ve already read all the law books in your office, and I don’t want to take the bar exam. I just want to talk privately for a moment.”
“All right, then.” Hotch led the way, and Spencer tried not to notice how all the other agents were staring at them as they passed. Once they were safely inside Hotch’s office and the door was closed, he immediately asked, “Did you mean that, Hotch? That you’d adopt me?”
Hotch sat down on the couch and patted the cushion next to him, inviting Spencer to sit as well. “Yes, Spencer, I would be willing to adopt you, but not against your wishes. I’d step back in favour of anybody else you’d prefer.”
“I was scared that you were going to agree with Chief Strauss about sending me to my father,” Spencer admitted.
“I would never have thought seriously about that alternative,” Hotch said, “even if you hadn’t told me about your nightmare.”
“Hotch, I, uh, I expected you to abandon me,” Spencer said slowly. “And … I was even more scared because I realized I’d started trusting you again, a little bit. Thank you for not betraying me.”
“Thank you for trusting me again, Spencer,” Hotch said simply. “Even a little bit.”
“A lot more now,” Spencer said. There was a slightly awkward silence, but eventually, Hotch asked, “While we’re here, did you want to officially change your healthcare proxy to Morgan?”
In the midst of everything else, Spencer had forgotten his demand, but now he stopped to consider. Hotch had shown him trust, now it was his chance to return it. “No, I think I’ll leave it the way it is for now.”
Hotch gave him one of his rare smiles.
On the way to Garcia’s office, Spencer felt like happiness was flowing from his heart throughout his body, making him want to skip, but although he thought he remembered how, his legs didn’t quite do what they were supposed to. He ended up jumping in place, then taking an awkward step, hopping from one foot to the next, then doing a kind of march step before managing to jump with both legs again. Eventually, Hotch realized that he was no longer at his side, and turned around. “Spencer, what are you doing?”
“Nothing,” Spencer replied in sudden embarrassment. Giving up the idea of skipping, he ran ahead of Hotch and opened the door to Garcia’s lair. “Hey, Garcia, guess what, I get to go back to work!”
“Jack …? Spencer! Oh, my G-d, it’s Spencer!” Penelope Garcia leaped out of her chair, arms outstretched. “Come here, my half-pint hero! Awww, you’re so adorable!”
Spencer let her pick him up and squeeze him, but thankfully, she put him down again eventually and got out her phone instead. As she took a few pictures, she asked, “So, you fell into this – this de-aging machine? What did it feel like? Did it hurt?”
“Yes, but mostly it was like being … compressed,” Spencer remembered.
“Like in the trash compacter in Star Wars?”
“More like in a black hole.” To illustrate, Spencer squeezed his hands together so tightly that his joints turned white.
Garcia shuddered at the thought. “Guess I won’t be hoping for a chance to jump in, then.”
“You don’t want to be twenty five years younger, believe me,” Spencer told her.
“No, I wouldn’t want to be a kid again, but if I could go back to being twenty five …” Garcia let her voice drift off dreamily until Hotch brought her back to the here and now.
“We actually came to ask a favour, Garcia,” he said.
“Unicorns cost extra,” she immediately said. “Not that you would want a unicorn … sir.”
Spencer took over the request. “Can you check and see if there are any BAU agents who are currently on medical leave, but are close to being cleared to come back?”
“Checking now.” Garcia turned to her computer. “There are a few on medical leave, but it doesn’t say here how close they are to coming back.”
Remembering the chickenpox scare, Spencer asked, “Do any of them have any contagious diseases?”
“I’d have to get into more details to tell ...” But without waiting for permission, Garcia did exactly that. “Yeah, a couple of cases of stomach flu. Ugh. One bronchitis. Otherwise, we have a gunshot wound, injuries from a car crash, and a slipped disc.”
“No flu cases, but everybody else, can you send their details to Hotch and me?”
“Faster than it takes to say ‘Baby Bucky’!”
“Garcia,” Spencer protested, but she just grinned unrepentantly.
“Has this got something to do with the case?”
“No, actually, we’re looking for a guardian for Spencer,” Hotch said.
“A slightly downgraded bodyguard or a slightly upgraded baby-sitter,” Spencer clarified, even though simply saying the word “baby-sitter” made him cringe.
Garcia looked indignant. “I can baby-sit you!”
“Not and still keep doing your job at the same time,” Hotch said. “Strauss has agreed that Spencer may work eight hours a day and accompany us on cases, but with some caveats, and one of those is that somebody stay with him the entire time. So now we’re looking for somebody who is not actively working, but who is well enough to keep an eye out.”
“And then I can go back to work!” Spencer exclaimed, bouncing slightly in excitement.
Garcia smiled down at him. “That’s actually a good idea.”
“Thank you,” Spencer replied, trying not to bounce again. He’d even thought of the part of asking for somebody who was as eager to get back to work, in any capacity, as he was.
Garcia’s smiled faded suddenly. “I hope we catch a break on this case soon, or you might be flying to Colorado with your special somebody sooner than you think.”
Before either of them could answer, however, her phone rang, and she turned away to answer. “Office of the Supreme Technical Sorceress, what can I conjure for you this time?”
“Come on, Spencer, let’s get lunch,” Hotch said quietly, and when they were out in the hall, he added, “Then we should just have time to get you your new identity before your appointment at the eye doctor.”
“Ophthalmologist,” Spencer corrected him. “Hotch, did you know that the word ophthalmology comes from the Greek words ophthalmos, for eye, and logis, for study? So it basically means the study of eyes?”
“Yes, Spencer, I knew that,” Hotch said, looking indulgently down at him.
“Oh.”
+++++
7 October 2011
The next day was Jack’s birthday, and his party was planned for the afternoon, but Hotch had already put some gifts in a pile on the breakfast table. Jack tore open the paper of the top present first.
“Sword-Swinging Cats! Thanks, Dad!”
Spencer could already see it was a book, and was thick enough to have a decent story in it as well, even if it did feature anthropomorphic felines.
“It’s got stickers you can put on the pages, and some collectible cards, too,” Hotch pointed out.
“Cards? Cool!” Jack reached eagerly for the next package. “A Cheerwell Stumptail shirt! Cheerwell’s my favourite!”
“I know, you’ve only told me five hundred times,” Hotch replied.
“Can I wear it to-day?”
“You can put it on right after breakfast, but eat first.” Then Hotch indicated the last, and biggest present. “This one’s from Spencer.”
Jack ripped off the paper and read the box. “Ticket … to … Ride. What is it?”
“It’s a board game about train tracks and being the first to connect all your cities,” Spencer explained.
“Does it have any Cats in it? Or swords?”
“Well, no,” Spencer had to admit, and felt bad when he saw the disappointment on Jack’s face. “But you can pretend that the Cats are riding in the trains.”
“There aren’t any trains in the show,” Jack said.
Spencer glanced at Hotch, who gave him a look that clearly said, You should have gone for the Sword-Swinging Cats Board Game instead. But the Cats game had been a glorified version of Snakes and Ladders, and Spencer had feared that Jack might force him into endless boring rounds of play.
After a moment of consideration, Spencer looked back at Jack, turned the box over, and pointed to the lower left hand corner of the back cover. “It says it’s for kids aged eight and up, but I thought you’d be able to play it, because you’re so smart, even though you’re six and not eight yet. Maybe your dad should put it away until you’re older, though.”
“I can play it,” Jack said instantly, picking at the plastic shrink wrap. “Can we try it right now, Dad?”
Hotch deftly took the game out of his son’s hands. “Sorry, Jack, maybe later to-night. First we have to eat breakfast and get you to school, and then Spencer and I have an appointment.”
“What kind of appointment? Is it the eye doctor again?” Jack asked around a spoonful of oatmeal.
“Ophthalmologist,” Spencer said through his own oatmeal, because nobody was ever too young to learn the correct words.
“Don’t talk with your mouth full, either of you, and no, it’s not the eye doctor. We went there yesterday. That reminds me, though, I made an appointment for you, too, Jack. Next Tuesday after school.”
“Will I be getting glasses too?”
“I don’t think so, but children should have their eyes checked once a year, just in case.”
“If I get glasses, I want the square kind that Tobias Twitchpaw has,” Jack announced.
Hearing the name Tobias sent a jolt of fear and dread through Spencer that he hadn’t felt for years, and he choked on his orange juice. Spluttering and coughing, he tried to set the glass down, but it landed on the edge of the table instead and the whole thing fell in his lap.
“Are you all right?” Hotch asked. Spencer coughed a few more times, then nodded his head and looked down at the mess.
Because of the impending appointment, he’d chosen his nicest clothes, one of the two sets that JJ had bought, including the button-down sweater that he thought made him look closest to his older self. Now everything was soaked and sticky. “Oh, no, now I have to go change!”
“Too bad you don’t have a Cheerwell Stumptail shirt to wear,” Jack said as Spencer got up. “Maybe you can get one for your birthday.”
“I’d rather wear a hair shirt,” Spencer muttered to himself as he reached the bedroom. The other set of clothes that JJ had purchased were in the laundry, and the only things available were some of Jack’s hand-me-downs that Hotch had sorted out. The best he could find was a plain T-shirt, a sweatshirt with a glow-in-the-dark dinosaur on it and a pair of jeans with a patched knee. Sadly, he changed clothes, resigned to not looking his best on a day when it mattered, and resolved to ask Hotch to take him shopping as soon as possible.
From Jack’s school, they drove right to their appointment, which was to interview Agent Alleluia Johnson, whom Spencer had placed at the top of his short list for a possible ‘guardian.’ She had obviously been waiting for them, because she buzzed them into her apartment building almost before Hotch had finished pushing the button, and when they got to her floor, she was standing in the open doorway.
“Agent Hotchner,” she said as they approached. “Come in, sit down.”
Agent Johnson was an athletic-looking black woman of medium height, closer to Hotch in age than to Spencer. She guided them to the sofa in her living room. “Can I get you anything? I’ve got tea, or I can cut an apple for your … son?”
“Thank you, but we’ve just had breakfast,” Hotch said.
Agent Johnson folded herself to sit cross-legged in the easy chair. “Okay, then, what can I do for you, Agent Hotchner?”
“First off, let me introduce Dr Spencer Reid,” Hotch said, and Spencer gave her his usual smile and wave.
“Uh huh,” she said warily. “You know, the last I checked, April Fools’ Day was six months ago.”
“A hundred and ninety days, if you want to be exact,” Spencer said. “And one hundred and seventy six days to next year’s April Fools’ Day.”
“That’s pretty good math, Sprout,” Agent Johnson said.
“This isn’t an April Fools joke, or any kind of joke,” Hotch went on before Spencer could mention his PhD in mathematics. “Just over a week ago, my team was investigating the laboratory of a rogue SHIELD agent who somehow managed to invent a de-aging machine. Dr Reid fell into it and now has the body of a four-year-old while still retaining the intelligence and the memories of his twenty-nine-year-old self.”
“Uh huh,” Agent Johnson said again, obviously waiting for the punchline.
“I take it you haven’t heard the rumours in the BAU, then?”
Agent Johnson snorted slightly and shook her head. “Even if I did listen to rumours, which I don’t, I’ve been away so long, I hardly have contact with anybody on my team anymore. They’re all busy, and I’m stuck here – well, I’ve got my physical therapy appointments, and I’m trying to keep the rest of myself fit, too. But, really, what’s this all about, Agent Hotchner?”
“It really is about Dr Reid. But if you don’t believe that this is him, you can call Chief Strauss, or any other Section Chief you like, and ask. We’ll wait.”
Agent Johnson looked at him for a long moment, then reached her left hand over to a nearby table and picked up her phone. Giving them alternately long glances, she dialled and waited. “Hi, McMullen, it’s Johnson.” Pause. “No, the other Johnson. Ally, not Sarah.” Pause. “Sir, ninety-five percent of me is more than ready to get back to work, and that ninety-five percent can definitely compensate for the five percent that isn’t quite there yet. But that’s not why I’m calling. Listen, I’ve just heard the weirdest thing.” Pause. “Well, I’ve got Agent Hotchner here with a kid he claims is Dr Spencer Reid.” Long pause. “No way.” Pause. “Okaaayyy, I guess SHIELD really does stand for Spooky Happenings in Every Last Doghouse.” Pause. “You never heard that? What school did you go to, sir, the University of Outer Mongolia?” Pause. “Uh huh. I guess I have to believe it now.” Pause. “Maybe I will. Okay, thanks, sir – I guess. See you soon.”
She ended the call and looked at them. “Section Chief McMullen confirms your story, Agent Hotchner, but he said I could ask Dr Reid to quote me some statistics or some obscure fact if I’m still in doubt.”
Hotch gave Spencer a quick smile. “Your reputation precedes you.”
“There is no University of Outer Mongolia, although there is a National University of Mongolia, located in Ulaanbaatar,” Spencer said. “Outer Mongolia was a territory of the Manchu Qing dynasty until 1911. There is also an Inner Mongolia, located between Outer Mongolia in the north and China in the south. When people say Outer Mongolia, they usually mean an undeveloped, even backwards place far away from modern civilization and technology. But although the horse culture is still integral to the country, and thirty percent of the population is at least semi-nomadic, the state of Mongolia cannot be completely generalized as uncivilized because there are actually quite a few universities there, although most of them are centreed around the capitol city.”
Obviously stunned, Agent Johnson said, “Uh huh.”
“So, about Dr Reid,” Hotch said, and Agent Johnson came abruptly back to life, turning her attention to him as he continued. “We can still use his expertise on our cases, but as you can see, he would need someone to look after him.”
“You want me to be his baby-sitter?” Agent Johnson asked. “His nanny?”
“I’d rather not think of you as a baby-sitter, because that would imply that I am a baby,” Spencer said.
“I’d rather not think of myself as Mary Poppins, either,” Agent Johnson retorted.
“We could say guardian or even bodyguard,” Hotch suggested. “I’m sure you can see why putting him in daycare would not be a viable option. And since he has no family members, and we can hardly bring him with us to any police station or crime scene, we’re looking for somebody to stay with him in hotels while he consults with us over video link.”
“You do know I’m on medical leave because I got shot in the hand?” Agent Johnson said, holding it up in demonstration. “I’ve had two reconstructive surgeries and I’ve still got lingering nerve damage. I can’t hold a gun, or a knife, or even a fork. I couldn’t bodyguard a tortoise. As eager as I am to get back to work, I don’t know how much help I’d be.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but that is exactly why we picked you,” Hotch started to explain. “You will be medically cleared for this level of activity.”
“You just told your unit chief that the ninety-five percent of you that is more than ready to get back to work can definitely compensate for the five percent of you that isn’t quite there yet,” Spencer reminded her. “And even that ninety-five percent of you wouldn’t need do much, you’d really only be keeping an eye on me. Strauss said I’m allowed to work eight hours a day, but I have to take a break every morning and afternoon. You could get lots of reading done, or whatever else you do.”
He squinted at the shelves in her living room, but they were too far away for him to make out what kind of boxes she had on them. Puzzles? Games?
“You’d be responsible for making sure Spencer actually takes his breaks and eats his lunch,” Hotch said. “Make him go outside three times a day for fresh air and physical activity, like recess at elementary school. Same thing in the hotels when we’re in the field. You won’t need to hold a gun, or a knife, and you won’t be required to cook or clean or even drive.”
“We usually eat fast food when we’re on a case,” Spencer said. “If you help a little with the drinks, I can carry everything else.”
“Fast food?” Agent Johnson wrinkled her nose. “Sprout – Dr Reid – if I’m going to take care of you, it won’t be fast food. We’ll find real food.”
“I think she just said yes, Hotch.” Spencer smiled, though he did wonder what she meant by “real food.” Chinese was real food, wasn’t it? Pizza definitely was.
“I do have an appointment for my physical therapy once a week,” Agent Johnson said.
“We can make accomodations for that when we’re in the office.”
“So would I have to watch him around the clock? Would he be living here with me when you’re not in the field?”
“No offense, but I’d prefer to stay with Hotch,” Spencer said.
“No offense, but I’d prefer that, too.” But Agent Johnson didn’t sound as prickly as she had before. Her face softened slightly as she added, “I love kids, I really do. I love them when they come visit me, and I love them even more when they go back to their families.”
“You won’t have to watch him around the clock,” Hotch assured her, smiling. “You’d come in at eight thirty, and turn him over to me again in the afternoon. But when we’re out in the field, your duties would include getting his breakfast and supper and making sure he gets to bed at a decent hour. One of us could take over in the evenings to give you some time off.”
“And I can take a bath and get dressed by myself,” Spencer added. “So, actually, your biggest worry would be how not to die of boredom.”
“Well, I’ve managed that since I got home from the hospital,” Agent Johnson said, “so I think I could manage it at the office. This is not how I imagined going back to work, but hell. All right, I accept. You’ve got yourself a supervisor, Dr Reid.”
Part 6
Part 4
Return to Criminal Minds page
“Do you want more evidence to prove it?” Spencer asked. “Because I think Dr Kimura at the CDC has some of my tissue samples from when I inhaled anthrax during the Chad Brown case, so you can take a DNA test to compare them. Do you have a swab handy? I can do it myself, or would you rather?”
He opened his mouth obligingly, but when Strauss showed no signs of wanting to scrape the inside of his cheek, he went on. “I would offer to show you the scars from when I got shot in the leg while trying to protect Dr Tom Barton, but they’re not there anymore. Actually, I’ve been wondering if they’ll come back. If SHIELD re-ages the cells of this body, and the scar tissue isn’t present, then I probably won’t have the scars when I’m an adult again, but if they find a way to truly reverse the procedure, like re-winding a video cassette, then the scars –“
“All right, thank you, Dr Reid. Come in and sit down, both of you.”
She shut the door behind them, then went around to sit behind her desk. “You would not believe the rumours that have been going around here these last few days.”
“It wasn’t aliens,” Spencer told her.
Her lips twitched in the beginnings of a grimace. “That isn’t even the worst of the theories.
But since we’re here to discuss facts and not rumours, I spent all day yesterday reviewing the test results that SHIELD sent over, trying to decide what we’re going to do with you.”
“I thought we were going to decide that together,” Hotch said.
Strauss frowned slightly. “Well, Aaron, I’m sure you’ll agree with me that the best solution would be for us to place Dr Reid back in the custody of his father –“
Spencer felt suddenly sick with fear. His nightmare was coming true! Hotch was going to agree, he just knew it. It made sense; Hotch couldn’t be expected to take a month-long leave of absence just to care for a member of his team. Rossi had called it; Hotch had happily used Spencer to get a few extra days with his son, but no doubt he was itching to get back to work, even more than Spencer himself was. Now he was going to abandon Spencer to the “tender loving care” of his father, despite having comforted Spencer through the nightmare of this exact scenario, despite knowing how Spencer felt about the man who’d walked out on him and his mother. It was an even worse betrayal than neglecting to mention that Emily had been alive the whole time.
“No,” said Hotch, and Spencer snapped his attention back to Strauss’s office. Had he heard correctly?
Strauss’s frown became more severe. “Now I understand that Mr Reid walked out on his wife because of her health problems, but since she’s no longer in the picture, so to speak ---“
“No, his father walked out on them because he did not know how to deal with his son,” Hotch said, emphasizing the last two words, and Spencer stared up at him in amazement. Was he really …?
Hotch went on. “His father admitted candidly that he did not know how to take care of Spencer. No mention of his wife, just his son, and that was when Sp—Dr Reid – was eleven, both physically and mentally. Dr Reid now has the mind of a twenty nine year old genius in the body of a four-year-old child, and I think you’ll agree with me, Chief Strauss, that putting Dr Reid back into the custody of his father would be child endangerment at the very least.”
He really was! Hotch was really taking Spencer’s side! Spencer felt most of the terror around his heart dissolve into astonished relief and gratitude. But there was still Strauss to worry about, and she was staring at Hotch as though he were the one who should be in a mental institution.
“Do you have a better idea, Agent Hotchner?” she asked coldly.
“I’m willing to care for him as though he were my own son. In fact, if the process cannot be reversed, I’m willing to adopt him,” Hotch stated.
Spencer gaped. Strauss gaped. There was a long moment of stunned silence, and then Strauss regained her voice first. “So you’d treat him the same way you treat your son? You’ll send him to school and have your sister-in-law look after him whenever you’re away on a case or otherwise can’t be there?”
“Not exactly,” Hotch said. “You know that Dr Reid still retains his memories and all the experience he’s gained working here at the BAU. With a few accomodations, he could still continue to work with the team.”
Strauss narrowed her eyes. “What kind of accomodations?”
The ensuing discussion took three hours, but in the end, they’d not only come to an agreement, but had also hammered out every possible detail they could think of, including a new official identity for Spencer. Finally, Strauss put an end to the meeting by claiming that she had other appointments, and since Hotch now had to talk to Garcia about some of the accomodations needing to be put into place, they would adjourn and talk again later as necessary.
“Thank you for your willingness to compromise,” Hotch told her.
“That’s just what I was about to say to you,” she said, and smiled a genuine smile for the first time that day. Then she looked down at Spencer. “Good luck, Dr Reid. I hope they can find a way to reverse the process soon.”
“Thank you,” he said.
Out in the corridor, Spencer asked, “Hotch, can we stop by your office before we visit Garcia?”
“Are you trying to get your hands on more of my law books? At this rate, you’ll be able to take the bar exam before Halloween.”
“Actually, I’ve already read all the law books in your office, and I don’t want to take the bar exam. I just want to talk privately for a moment.”
“All right, then.” Hotch led the way, and Spencer tried not to notice how all the other agents were staring at them as they passed. Once they were safely inside Hotch’s office and the door was closed, he immediately asked, “Did you mean that, Hotch? That you’d adopt me?”
Hotch sat down on the couch and patted the cushion next to him, inviting Spencer to sit as well. “Yes, Spencer, I would be willing to adopt you, but not against your wishes. I’d step back in favour of anybody else you’d prefer.”
“I was scared that you were going to agree with Chief Strauss about sending me to my father,” Spencer admitted.
“I would never have thought seriously about that alternative,” Hotch said, “even if you hadn’t told me about your nightmare.”
“Hotch, I, uh, I expected you to abandon me,” Spencer said slowly. “And … I was even more scared because I realized I’d started trusting you again, a little bit. Thank you for not betraying me.”
“Thank you for trusting me again, Spencer,” Hotch said simply. “Even a little bit.”
“A lot more now,” Spencer said. There was a slightly awkward silence, but eventually, Hotch asked, “While we’re here, did you want to officially change your healthcare proxy to Morgan?”
In the midst of everything else, Spencer had forgotten his demand, but now he stopped to consider. Hotch had shown him trust, now it was his chance to return it. “No, I think I’ll leave it the way it is for now.”
Hotch gave him one of his rare smiles.
On the way to Garcia’s office, Spencer felt like happiness was flowing from his heart throughout his body, making him want to skip, but although he thought he remembered how, his legs didn’t quite do what they were supposed to. He ended up jumping in place, then taking an awkward step, hopping from one foot to the next, then doing a kind of march step before managing to jump with both legs again. Eventually, Hotch realized that he was no longer at his side, and turned around. “Spencer, what are you doing?”
“Nothing,” Spencer replied in sudden embarrassment. Giving up the idea of skipping, he ran ahead of Hotch and opened the door to Garcia’s lair. “Hey, Garcia, guess what, I get to go back to work!”
“Jack …? Spencer! Oh, my G-d, it’s Spencer!” Penelope Garcia leaped out of her chair, arms outstretched. “Come here, my half-pint hero! Awww, you’re so adorable!”
Spencer let her pick him up and squeeze him, but thankfully, she put him down again eventually and got out her phone instead. As she took a few pictures, she asked, “So, you fell into this – this de-aging machine? What did it feel like? Did it hurt?”
“Yes, but mostly it was like being … compressed,” Spencer remembered.
“Like in the trash compacter in Star Wars?”
“More like in a black hole.” To illustrate, Spencer squeezed his hands together so tightly that his joints turned white.
Garcia shuddered at the thought. “Guess I won’t be hoping for a chance to jump in, then.”
“You don’t want to be twenty five years younger, believe me,” Spencer told her.
“No, I wouldn’t want to be a kid again, but if I could go back to being twenty five …” Garcia let her voice drift off dreamily until Hotch brought her back to the here and now.
“We actually came to ask a favour, Garcia,” he said.
“Unicorns cost extra,” she immediately said. “Not that you would want a unicorn … sir.”
Spencer took over the request. “Can you check and see if there are any BAU agents who are currently on medical leave, but are close to being cleared to come back?”
“Checking now.” Garcia turned to her computer. “There are a few on medical leave, but it doesn’t say here how close they are to coming back.”
Remembering the chickenpox scare, Spencer asked, “Do any of them have any contagious diseases?”
“I’d have to get into more details to tell ...” But without waiting for permission, Garcia did exactly that. “Yeah, a couple of cases of stomach flu. Ugh. One bronchitis. Otherwise, we have a gunshot wound, injuries from a car crash, and a slipped disc.”
“No flu cases, but everybody else, can you send their details to Hotch and me?”
“Faster than it takes to say ‘Baby Bucky’!”
“Garcia,” Spencer protested, but she just grinned unrepentantly.
“Has this got something to do with the case?”
“No, actually, we’re looking for a guardian for Spencer,” Hotch said.
“A slightly downgraded bodyguard or a slightly upgraded baby-sitter,” Spencer clarified, even though simply saying the word “baby-sitter” made him cringe.
Garcia looked indignant. “I can baby-sit you!”
“Not and still keep doing your job at the same time,” Hotch said. “Strauss has agreed that Spencer may work eight hours a day and accompany us on cases, but with some caveats, and one of those is that somebody stay with him the entire time. So now we’re looking for somebody who is not actively working, but who is well enough to keep an eye out.”
“And then I can go back to work!” Spencer exclaimed, bouncing slightly in excitement.
Garcia smiled down at him. “That’s actually a good idea.”
“Thank you,” Spencer replied, trying not to bounce again. He’d even thought of the part of asking for somebody who was as eager to get back to work, in any capacity, as he was.
Garcia’s smiled faded suddenly. “I hope we catch a break on this case soon, or you might be flying to Colorado with your special somebody sooner than you think.”
Before either of them could answer, however, her phone rang, and she turned away to answer. “Office of the Supreme Technical Sorceress, what can I conjure for you this time?”
“Come on, Spencer, let’s get lunch,” Hotch said quietly, and when they were out in the hall, he added, “Then we should just have time to get you your new identity before your appointment at the eye doctor.”
“Ophthalmologist,” Spencer corrected him. “Hotch, did you know that the word ophthalmology comes from the Greek words ophthalmos, for eye, and logis, for study? So it basically means the study of eyes?”
“Yes, Spencer, I knew that,” Hotch said, looking indulgently down at him.
“Oh.”
+++++
7 October 2011
The next day was Jack’s birthday, and his party was planned for the afternoon, but Hotch had already put some gifts in a pile on the breakfast table. Jack tore open the paper of the top present first.
“Sword-Swinging Cats! Thanks, Dad!”
Spencer could already see it was a book, and was thick enough to have a decent story in it as well, even if it did feature anthropomorphic felines.
“It’s got stickers you can put on the pages, and some collectible cards, too,” Hotch pointed out.
“Cards? Cool!” Jack reached eagerly for the next package. “A Cheerwell Stumptail shirt! Cheerwell’s my favourite!”
“I know, you’ve only told me five hundred times,” Hotch replied.
“Can I wear it to-day?”
“You can put it on right after breakfast, but eat first.” Then Hotch indicated the last, and biggest present. “This one’s from Spencer.”
Jack ripped off the paper and read the box. “Ticket … to … Ride. What is it?”
“It’s a board game about train tracks and being the first to connect all your cities,” Spencer explained.
“Does it have any Cats in it? Or swords?”
“Well, no,” Spencer had to admit, and felt bad when he saw the disappointment on Jack’s face. “But you can pretend that the Cats are riding in the trains.”
“There aren’t any trains in the show,” Jack said.
Spencer glanced at Hotch, who gave him a look that clearly said, You should have gone for the Sword-Swinging Cats Board Game instead. But the Cats game had been a glorified version of Snakes and Ladders, and Spencer had feared that Jack might force him into endless boring rounds of play.
After a moment of consideration, Spencer looked back at Jack, turned the box over, and pointed to the lower left hand corner of the back cover. “It says it’s for kids aged eight and up, but I thought you’d be able to play it, because you’re so smart, even though you’re six and not eight yet. Maybe your dad should put it away until you’re older, though.”
“I can play it,” Jack said instantly, picking at the plastic shrink wrap. “Can we try it right now, Dad?”
Hotch deftly took the game out of his son’s hands. “Sorry, Jack, maybe later to-night. First we have to eat breakfast and get you to school, and then Spencer and I have an appointment.”
“What kind of appointment? Is it the eye doctor again?” Jack asked around a spoonful of oatmeal.
“Ophthalmologist,” Spencer said through his own oatmeal, because nobody was ever too young to learn the correct words.
“Don’t talk with your mouth full, either of you, and no, it’s not the eye doctor. We went there yesterday. That reminds me, though, I made an appointment for you, too, Jack. Next Tuesday after school.”
“Will I be getting glasses too?”
“I don’t think so, but children should have their eyes checked once a year, just in case.”
“If I get glasses, I want the square kind that Tobias Twitchpaw has,” Jack announced.
Hearing the name Tobias sent a jolt of fear and dread through Spencer that he hadn’t felt for years, and he choked on his orange juice. Spluttering and coughing, he tried to set the glass down, but it landed on the edge of the table instead and the whole thing fell in his lap.
“Are you all right?” Hotch asked. Spencer coughed a few more times, then nodded his head and looked down at the mess.
Because of the impending appointment, he’d chosen his nicest clothes, one of the two sets that JJ had bought, including the button-down sweater that he thought made him look closest to his older self. Now everything was soaked and sticky. “Oh, no, now I have to go change!”
“Too bad you don’t have a Cheerwell Stumptail shirt to wear,” Jack said as Spencer got up. “Maybe you can get one for your birthday.”
“I’d rather wear a hair shirt,” Spencer muttered to himself as he reached the bedroom. The other set of clothes that JJ had purchased were in the laundry, and the only things available were some of Jack’s hand-me-downs that Hotch had sorted out. The best he could find was a plain T-shirt, a sweatshirt with a glow-in-the-dark dinosaur on it and a pair of jeans with a patched knee. Sadly, he changed clothes, resigned to not looking his best on a day when it mattered, and resolved to ask Hotch to take him shopping as soon as possible.
From Jack’s school, they drove right to their appointment, which was to interview Agent Alleluia Johnson, whom Spencer had placed at the top of his short list for a possible ‘guardian.’ She had obviously been waiting for them, because she buzzed them into her apartment building almost before Hotch had finished pushing the button, and when they got to her floor, she was standing in the open doorway.
“Agent Hotchner,” she said as they approached. “Come in, sit down.”
Agent Johnson was an athletic-looking black woman of medium height, closer to Hotch in age than to Spencer. She guided them to the sofa in her living room. “Can I get you anything? I’ve got tea, or I can cut an apple for your … son?”
“Thank you, but we’ve just had breakfast,” Hotch said.
Agent Johnson folded herself to sit cross-legged in the easy chair. “Okay, then, what can I do for you, Agent Hotchner?”
“First off, let me introduce Dr Spencer Reid,” Hotch said, and Spencer gave her his usual smile and wave.
“Uh huh,” she said warily. “You know, the last I checked, April Fools’ Day was six months ago.”
“A hundred and ninety days, if you want to be exact,” Spencer said. “And one hundred and seventy six days to next year’s April Fools’ Day.”
“That’s pretty good math, Sprout,” Agent Johnson said.
“This isn’t an April Fools joke, or any kind of joke,” Hotch went on before Spencer could mention his PhD in mathematics. “Just over a week ago, my team was investigating the laboratory of a rogue SHIELD agent who somehow managed to invent a de-aging machine. Dr Reid fell into it and now has the body of a four-year-old while still retaining the intelligence and the memories of his twenty-nine-year-old self.”
“Uh huh,” Agent Johnson said again, obviously waiting for the punchline.
“I take it you haven’t heard the rumours in the BAU, then?”
Agent Johnson snorted slightly and shook her head. “Even if I did listen to rumours, which I don’t, I’ve been away so long, I hardly have contact with anybody on my team anymore. They’re all busy, and I’m stuck here – well, I’ve got my physical therapy appointments, and I’m trying to keep the rest of myself fit, too. But, really, what’s this all about, Agent Hotchner?”
“It really is about Dr Reid. But if you don’t believe that this is him, you can call Chief Strauss, or any other Section Chief you like, and ask. We’ll wait.”
Agent Johnson looked at him for a long moment, then reached her left hand over to a nearby table and picked up her phone. Giving them alternately long glances, she dialled and waited. “Hi, McMullen, it’s Johnson.” Pause. “No, the other Johnson. Ally, not Sarah.” Pause. “Sir, ninety-five percent of me is more than ready to get back to work, and that ninety-five percent can definitely compensate for the five percent that isn’t quite there yet. But that’s not why I’m calling. Listen, I’ve just heard the weirdest thing.” Pause. “Well, I’ve got Agent Hotchner here with a kid he claims is Dr Spencer Reid.” Long pause. “No way.” Pause. “Okaaayyy, I guess SHIELD really does stand for Spooky Happenings in Every Last Doghouse.” Pause. “You never heard that? What school did you go to, sir, the University of Outer Mongolia?” Pause. “Uh huh. I guess I have to believe it now.” Pause. “Maybe I will. Okay, thanks, sir – I guess. See you soon.”
She ended the call and looked at them. “Section Chief McMullen confirms your story, Agent Hotchner, but he said I could ask Dr Reid to quote me some statistics or some obscure fact if I’m still in doubt.”
Hotch gave Spencer a quick smile. “Your reputation precedes you.”
“There is no University of Outer Mongolia, although there is a National University of Mongolia, located in Ulaanbaatar,” Spencer said. “Outer Mongolia was a territory of the Manchu Qing dynasty until 1911. There is also an Inner Mongolia, located between Outer Mongolia in the north and China in the south. When people say Outer Mongolia, they usually mean an undeveloped, even backwards place far away from modern civilization and technology. But although the horse culture is still integral to the country, and thirty percent of the population is at least semi-nomadic, the state of Mongolia cannot be completely generalized as uncivilized because there are actually quite a few universities there, although most of them are centreed around the capitol city.”
Obviously stunned, Agent Johnson said, “Uh huh.”
“So, about Dr Reid,” Hotch said, and Agent Johnson came abruptly back to life, turning her attention to him as he continued. “We can still use his expertise on our cases, but as you can see, he would need someone to look after him.”
“You want me to be his baby-sitter?” Agent Johnson asked. “His nanny?”
“I’d rather not think of you as a baby-sitter, because that would imply that I am a baby,” Spencer said.
“I’d rather not think of myself as Mary Poppins, either,” Agent Johnson retorted.
“We could say guardian or even bodyguard,” Hotch suggested. “I’m sure you can see why putting him in daycare would not be a viable option. And since he has no family members, and we can hardly bring him with us to any police station or crime scene, we’re looking for somebody to stay with him in hotels while he consults with us over video link.”
“You do know I’m on medical leave because I got shot in the hand?” Agent Johnson said, holding it up in demonstration. “I’ve had two reconstructive surgeries and I’ve still got lingering nerve damage. I can’t hold a gun, or a knife, or even a fork. I couldn’t bodyguard a tortoise. As eager as I am to get back to work, I don’t know how much help I’d be.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but that is exactly why we picked you,” Hotch started to explain. “You will be medically cleared for this level of activity.”
“You just told your unit chief that the ninety-five percent of you that is more than ready to get back to work can definitely compensate for the five percent of you that isn’t quite there yet,” Spencer reminded her. “And even that ninety-five percent of you wouldn’t need do much, you’d really only be keeping an eye on me. Strauss said I’m allowed to work eight hours a day, but I have to take a break every morning and afternoon. You could get lots of reading done, or whatever else you do.”
He squinted at the shelves in her living room, but they were too far away for him to make out what kind of boxes she had on them. Puzzles? Games?
“You’d be responsible for making sure Spencer actually takes his breaks and eats his lunch,” Hotch said. “Make him go outside three times a day for fresh air and physical activity, like recess at elementary school. Same thing in the hotels when we’re in the field. You won’t need to hold a gun, or a knife, and you won’t be required to cook or clean or even drive.”
“We usually eat fast food when we’re on a case,” Spencer said. “If you help a little with the drinks, I can carry everything else.”
“Fast food?” Agent Johnson wrinkled her nose. “Sprout – Dr Reid – if I’m going to take care of you, it won’t be fast food. We’ll find real food.”
“I think she just said yes, Hotch.” Spencer smiled, though he did wonder what she meant by “real food.” Chinese was real food, wasn’t it? Pizza definitely was.
“I do have an appointment for my physical therapy once a week,” Agent Johnson said.
“We can make accomodations for that when we’re in the office.”
“So would I have to watch him around the clock? Would he be living here with me when you’re not in the field?”
“No offense, but I’d prefer to stay with Hotch,” Spencer said.
“No offense, but I’d prefer that, too.” But Agent Johnson didn’t sound as prickly as she had before. Her face softened slightly as she added, “I love kids, I really do. I love them when they come visit me, and I love them even more when they go back to their families.”
“You won’t have to watch him around the clock,” Hotch assured her, smiling. “You’d come in at eight thirty, and turn him over to me again in the afternoon. But when we’re out in the field, your duties would include getting his breakfast and supper and making sure he gets to bed at a decent hour. One of us could take over in the evenings to give you some time off.”
“And I can take a bath and get dressed by myself,” Spencer added. “So, actually, your biggest worry would be how not to die of boredom.”
“Well, I’ve managed that since I got home from the hospital,” Agent Johnson said, “so I think I could manage it at the office. This is not how I imagined going back to work, but hell. All right, I accept. You’ve got yourself a supervisor, Dr Reid.”
Part 6
Part 4
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