Second Childhood
Part 8
10 October 2011
The next morning, after an unsettling dream, Spencer woke up early. He and JJ had been discussing something about Airplane Henry, but it had got heated and Hotch had stepped in, sending JJ to her office and taking Spencer downstairs to the emergency childcare room. Childcare! And they hadn’t even been talking about the Emily situation! Spencer was glad he hadn’t woken up screaming or crying, though it had taken a few moments for his heart to stop pounding so hard.
Spencer and Jack had been taking turns with the sleeping bag ever since the coin toss, and it had been Spencer’s turn for the bed again. Now he slipped out of it and got dressed in the new clothes he’d convinced Hotch to buy him on Saturday afternoon. Well, he’d supplied the money from his account, but Hotch had done the actual purchasing. He definitely did not want to show up for work looking like a kid on the way to pre-school, so he’d insisted on choosing clothes that were as close to his usual style as he could get. They had also found a small watch that wasn’t too childish, along with a backpack big enough for a book and a few other supplies. Spencer made sure it hadn’t mysteriously come unpacked in the night.
Then he had to wait for Hotch to wake up, and then Jack, and for breakfast, and for them to drive Jack to school. Finally, however, Hotch pulled into a parking space at the BAU building, and Spencer leaped out of the car almost before Hotch pulled the hand brake. Making sure his new identity badge was still attached to the bottom of his sweater under his jacket, he stuck his arms through the straps of his backpack and settled it on his shoulders, then headed towards the entrance. Back to work at last!
“Spencer!” Hotch called from the other side of the car, and when Spencer looked back, Hotch was holding out his hand expectantly. Slightly disgruntled, Spencer went over to take it. As soon as they were out of the parking lot and at the main door, however, he let go.
The security personal had already seen him when he’d come on Thursday, but apparently nobody had told them he was now officially back at work.
“Just let me get you a visitor’s pass, kiddo,” one of the employees said, the one who’d been calling Spencer kiddo ever since Spencer had started work at the BAU. Spencer had always privately thought that the man was so close to retirement age that he probably could have got away with calling Hotch kiddo, too.
“I don’t need one, I have this,” Spencer said, unzipping his jacket to reveal his badge. When the man leaned over to inspect it, Spencer unclipped it and let him have a closer look.
“Is this for real?” the man asked Hotch, taking the badge and checking it back and front. “And here I thought I’d seen it all.“
As they waited for the elevator, a few female agents came through security, and Spencer could tell the minute they spotted him.
“Billy the Kid!” one of them squealed in a mock whisper, but another one quietly corrected her. “Spencer the Kid, you mean.”
“Isn’t he adorable?” the first one whispered back, and behind them, the third woman said a little too loudly, “What do you think Hotch would look like if he’d been de-aged?”
Spencer glanced up at Hotch. As far as he could see, his boss showed only the stern expression he usually wore, but he had a feeling Hotch had heard, and was simply ignoring the women.
“Probably exactly the same way he looks now,” a louder, more familiar female voice stated, and Agent Johnson came around from behind, a large sports bag hanging from one shoulder. While the three other agents opted to avoid them by taking the stairs, she approached and made a formal greeting. “Agent Hotchner. Dr. Reid.“
“Agent Johnson,” Hotch replied, equally formal.
“Hi,” Spencer replied. The elevator dinged and they got in.
“I hope you don’t mind, I’ve asked Facilities Management if I can have a desk in your bullpen,” Agent Johnson said to Hotch. “I’ve got to have someplace to sit while I’m keeping an eye on Dr Reid.”
“That’s perfectly acceptable,” Hotch replied.
They got out on the sixth floor and entered the bullpen. None of the other agents had arrived yet, but two men from FM were already there, positioning a desk and chair a little off to one side.
“That was fast,” Hotch said. Agent Johnson agreed, then strode over and placed her bag on the empty surface. Spencer went to his own desk, shed his backpack and hung his jacket over the back of the chair, then climbed up onto the seat, only to realize it would need adjusting. He tried to work the handle himself, but couldn’t move it sufficiently in the right direction.
“Hotch, can you help me with my chair?” he called out. Hotch came out of the kitchenette holding a cup of coffee, but put it down on the desk and helped Spencer get the seat to the right height.
“Anything else?” he asked.
“I should be okay now, thanks.” Spencer picked up a pen, opened the first case file, and started to read. Emily was the next person in, and Spencer made an effort to engage her in conversation as part of the first step of trying to trust her again. It went surprisingly well. Then JJ came in, and Spencer felt his newfound amiability shrink almost instantly. Fortunately, she only gave him a quick, impersonal hello, and he returned an equally curt hi. One by one, his other co-workers also came in, chatting briefly with him and each other. He was vaguely aware of them getting coffee, introducing themselves to Agent Johnson, and settling down at their desks. It felt like any other Monday at the BAU – until he became aware of a quiet beeping over to one side, like somebody’s watch alarm, and a moment later, Agent Johnson came up to his desk, carrying her sports bag.
“Break time, Sprout,” she announced.
“Uh, yeah, just let me finish this paragraph,” he mumbled, but she laid her hand on his arm, and he looked up in surprise.
“Now,” she said.
Spencer put the pen down. He didn’t want to protest too much in case she complained to Hotch or even higher up.
“Get your jacket, we’re going outside,” she continued on in the same commanding tone.
“I know, I know, fresh air and physical activity,” Spencer recited. It was part of the deal for letting him work at all. He pulled his jacket on as he walked out of the bullpen, and was headed for the elevator when Agent Johnson said, “Nope, we’re taking the stairs.”
Going down wasn’t a problem, but Spencer wondered if she’d insist on climbing all six flights up again when they came back. That would cut into his work time even more.
“Agent Hotchner suggested I walk you around the building,” Agent Johnson said disdainfully as they went down. “But my sister-in-law teaches first grade with an emphasis on physical education, so I sat down with her this weekend and we came up with some better ideas.”
“What kind of ideas?” Spencer asked. He eyed her sports bag warily and hoped the ideas didn’t involve kicking soccer balls, or dribbling basketballs, or playing with any other kind of ball, for that matter.
“Oh, stairs, running, jumping, that kind of thing.”
“Did you tell your sister-in-law about me?”
“Of course not. I just said it was related to a case, and need-to-know.”
Spencer smiled, wondering what the sister-in-law thought of a case that included children’s games on a need-to-know basis. Maybe she thought Agent Johnson would be going undercover somewhere to flush out a school-aged arsonist.
Once they were outside, Agent Johnson said, “All right, first we’re going to march.”
She demonstrated, lifting her knees high and swinging her free arm. After a moment, feeling ridiculous, Spencer followed suit.
“And we’re going to sing,” she continued.
Spencer stopped marching and stared at her. She stared back. “Yes, Sprout, you will sing, and you will march right here next to me so that I can see if you’re trying to get away with anything. Now come on.”
Marching, she guided him towards a large open section of lawn, and began to sing. “We are marching to Pretoria! Pretoria! Pretoria! We are marching to Pretoria! Pretoria, hurrah!”
Noticing his lack of audible participation, she gave him a slight push with her injured hand. ”Come on, Sprout, sing!”
“I don’t know that song, Alleluia,” he shot back, and for the first time, he saw her smile.
“You can call me Ally, Spencer,” she said. “And you’ve just heard the song, so now you know it, and now you can sing it.”
“Did you know that Pretoria is a real city—“
“No talking, Spencer, we are singing as we march!”
They started up again, and Spencer mumbled along, feeling even more ridiculous than before. Ally led him in and out around a few trees, then back to the open lawn, and with the end of the song, stopped marching and set down her bag.
“Now we’re going to play Run Past Ally Alligator,” she announced, and opened the bag. She took out two plastic bottles, each about a quarter full with water. Hugging one to her body with her right arm, she set the other bottle in the grass, then walked across the lawn, counting her steps. At seventy, she stopped and put the second bottle down, then came back and carried the entire bag to the middle point between the two bottles. Spencer watched as she took out a yoga mat and unrolled it, placing it on the grass about a yard away from the bag. Finally, she pulled out a bundle of long strips of cloth.
“Come here,” she called to Spencer. “Take these five green ones and put four of them over there by that bottle. Keep one in your hand, and stay there.”
He separated the green strips and walked them to the far bottle, then laid them on the grass. Ally was doing the same on the other side with the red strips, and when she’d finished, she came back to the mat.
“Now, I’m the alligator and you’re going to run past me while I try to catch your flag,” she said. She lay face down on the mat and extended both arms over her head, clapping them together to imitate alligator jaws.
“Hold your flag in the hand that’s facing me, and run from one bottle to the next,” she sent on. ”You have to run between me and the bag, you can’t go around because there’s a deep cliff on that side and you’ll fall down it.”
Spencer looked dubiously at her, and she amended, “Well, it would be cheating, anyway. Now, when you get to the other side, you drop your green flag and pick up a red one, then run back. The person who has the most flags at the end of ten rounds is the winner. Ready? Set, go!”
Spencer jogged towards the opposite bottle, and when he got close to Ally, she reared her upper body off the mat and snapped the green flag right out of his hand with her wrists.
“You’re going to have to be faster to get past Ally Alligator!” she exclaimed. “Now get the next flag, and sprint! Maybe I won’t get you if you’re fast enough.”
Spencer tried again, holding the red flag in his left hand and speeding up as he got close to Ally, but she snatched the cloth again.
“Keep running, don’t stop,” she encouraged. “You never know, Ally Alligator might come crawling after you.”
But by the time they’d finished the ten rounds, Spencer had only managed to save the last flag, mostly by pulling it out of Ally’s range as he raced by. She laughed, but also praised his strategy. “Good one, Spencer! Okay, help me pack these up, and now it’s time to go in again.”
But by “go in” she meant “march,” as Spencer found out when he tried to race ahead and was pulled back to join her in yet another round of “Pretoria.” When the song finished, Spencer explained the difference between alligators and crocodiles as they climbed the six flights of stairs. By the time they reached their floor, he was panting hard enough to cut his explanation short. He got his water bottle out of his backpack, almost feeling as though he had to take another break to recover from the first one, while Ally sat down at her desk looking as though she’d done nothing more strenuous than walk in the park.
At least Ally let him walk to lunch, instead of making him march down the stairs and all the way around to the FBI dining hall. He didn’t think he’d been there since he’d graduated from the academy. She bypassed the lines of trainee agents and spoke to someone on the other side of a certain counter, then made her way to a small table. Spencer noticed a handwritten sign claiming it was reserved, but Ally told him to sit down even as she took the seat opposite. One of the kitchen workers came over, carrying a tray, and slid it in front of them. There was a small carton of milk and two plates on the tray.
“Thanks, Joe,” Ally said.
“N-no prob-problem,” Joe replied, and went away again. “En-enjoy!”
“Can you take your plate?” Ally asked. As soon as Spencer had lifted his up, she moved the tray over to her side, her meal still on it.
“What’s this?” he asked, looking down at his food.
“Eggplant and lentils,” she replied. “I asked Joe to put a little extra cheese on it for you.”
So this was what she’d meant by “real food.” Spencer stared down at it. “I’ve never eaten eggplant before.”
“There’s butternut squash in here, too,” she mentioned, taking a bite. “Yummy.”
Hesitantly, Spencer took a tiny forkful, and then another one. It wasn’t too bad. It was definitely better than some meals he’d eaten. He’d had lentils once, and remembered thinking that they not only tasted kind of muddy but also reminded him of rabbit pellets. These lentils were different. Tastier. He tried a bigger bite.
“I didn’t know the dining hall served food like this,” he said.
“They just started a few years ago,” Ally explained. “After me and a few other people started campaigning for healthier, whole food and vegetarian options. And as for the special treatment, Joe’s my first cousin once removed, and I helped him get the job here.”
“Oh.” Spencer took another bite.
“That portion’s probably way too big for you. You don’t have to eat it all. And remember, we’re going to be doing some more activities after lunch.”
“More alligators?” Spencer worked to open his milk carton.
“No, I have something else planned.”
“What?”
“Why would I ruin the surprise?”
The first surprise turned out to be crab-walking. Although Ally was able to demonstrate it by pushing up onto her feet and one hand, and even taking a three-limbed step, her injury meant she couldn’t do more than that. But she guided Spencer in a figure eight around two trees and encouraged him to keep his stomach up and not sag.
After that, she put out the yoga mat and made him stretch out, then roll over and over, from one end to the other and back again. Finally, she brought out the strips of cloth again and laid them lengthwise in a long path on the grass, red and green alternating.
“Jump from one colour to the next,” she said. “Try to land with one foot on either side of the cloth and not touching it.”
Spencer had jumped five or six times when she came out in front of him, laying down the strips she’d gathered up from behind.
“If I jump from here all the way back to the building, I don’t think I’ll have enough strength to get up even one step, let alone six flights of stairs,” Spencer said.
Ally put down the last strip, then looked at him for a long moment with all the compassion of a drill sergeant, and finally said, “You’re right, we don’t want to overdo it on your first day. Just finish these last few little leaps.”
Ally also relented enough to make him climb only three flights of stairs and take the elevator from there. When it was time for Spencer’s afternoon break, however, she made him walk all the way down again. Going down, he flexed his hand several times, because it was starting to ache from the writing he’d done that day, which wasn’t even half as much as he remembered doing back when he was older. He hoped nobody but Ally noticed, in case word got back to Hotch or Strauss and made them suddenly want to revisit the terms on which he could still come to work.
“Now we’re going to skip,” Ally announced as they left the building. “We’ll head to that tree over there.”
“Um, I can’t,” Spencer told her.
“What?”
“I can’t skip.”
“Why not? Didn’t you ever learn?”
“I learned how, but I tried it the other day, and it just didn’t work. Maybe this body’s not coordinated enough yet, I don’t know.”
“Can you jump rope? Did you ever learn that?”
“Yeah, the basics, but nothing fancy.”
“Then here.” Ally dug a child-sized jump rope out of her bag and handed it over, but after watching Spencer jumping over it a full second after it hit the ground, three times in a row, she took the rope back. “Maybe you could practice that in your spare time.”
“I thought this was my spare time!”
Ally sighed and said, ”Let’s march, and then we can play Run Past Ally Alligator again.”
Spencer was sure she put the bottles farther away than the first time they’d played the alligator game. And they definitely stayed outside longer than in the morning, and she made him climb three flights of stairs again. Once he finally got back to his desk, it seemed like he barely had time to do any work at all before Ally popped up and laid her hand on his arm.
“Work time’s over, Sprout.”
“I’m almost finished with this,” he said, still writing.
“Your eight hours are up.”
But when Spencer continued to write, she plucked the pen out of his fingers.
“Just let me finish that word!”
“You can finish it to-morrow,” she said. “It’s not going anywhere. Unlike you. Now come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“I’m supposed to hand you over to Agent Hotchner, so that’s what I’m doing.” She used her good hand to pull his chair away from his desk. Resigned, he got down and accompanied her up the steps to the mezzanine where Hotch’s office was. The door was open, so Ally put a foot in. “Handing over Dr Reid, sir.”
Hotch looked up from the reading material on his desk. “How’d it go, Johnson?”
“Lots of fresh air and physical activity, as agreed, sir, and he ate a good lunch. No problems to report, sir.”
Hotch smiled slightly. “You can call me Hotch.”
“I didn’t want to presume, sir,” Ally said, then amended it to, “Hotch.”
“All right, then we’ll see you to-morrow.” Hotch gave her a smile. “And thanks.”
They exchanged good-byes and Ally went out. Hotch said, “Take a seat, Spencer, I just need to finish this quickly.”
Spencer sat down on the couch and waited, wondering if it was worth taking the book out of his backpack if he was just going to have to close it again two pages later. But after five minutes had gone by in which Hotch was still not showing any signs of finishing quickly, Spencer had a better idea.
“Um, Hotch, I left my jacket at my desk. I’m just going to go get it.”
“Sure,” Hotch answered without looking up. Spencer went quickly down the stairs and sat down at his desk again, ignoring Emily’s questioning look, and picked up his pen.
“Spencer,” she said in a low, warning voice, drawing his name out.
“I just need to finish this one word,” he said.
But the one word led to the next, and the next after that, and before he knew it, he’d finished the entire report. Closing the file, Spencer started to shake out his cramped hand, but stopped when he realized Hotch was standing there, arms crossed, and giving him a disapproving glare.
Emily gave a fake cough that sounded suspiciously like “Busted!”
“I’ll tell Johnson you’re finishing half an hour early to-morrow,” Hotch said.
“It was only five –“ Spencer checked his watch – “fifteen minutes! And you had something you wanted to finish, too.”
“You sound tired and irritable,” Hotch said. “Get your stuff, let’s go home, and you can go to bed early.”
“I’m fine,” Spencer protested. As they walked to the elevator, he pulled his jacket on and got his backpack settled on his shoulders. “I’m not irritable at all, and I’m only tired because I’ve been going up and down stairs and marching to Pretoria all day.”
“Pretoria, hurrah!” Hotch said, almost singing, but not quite.
“You know that song, too?” Spencer had been wondering if Ally had made it up.
“When I was in first grade, my teacher made us stand up every so often and march in place at our desks, singing that song.”
“Hotch, did you know that Pretoria is a real city in what was then the South African Republic, also called the Transvaal, but is now the Republic of South Africa? It was founded in 1855 by Marthinus Pretorius, and named for his father Andries Pretorius, who were descendents of the first Dutch settlers in that region.”
“I didn’t know it back then when I was marching there, but I do now,” Hotch said.
Part 9
Part 7
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The next morning, after an unsettling dream, Spencer woke up early. He and JJ had been discussing something about Airplane Henry, but it had got heated and Hotch had stepped in, sending JJ to her office and taking Spencer downstairs to the emergency childcare room. Childcare! And they hadn’t even been talking about the Emily situation! Spencer was glad he hadn’t woken up screaming or crying, though it had taken a few moments for his heart to stop pounding so hard.
Spencer and Jack had been taking turns with the sleeping bag ever since the coin toss, and it had been Spencer’s turn for the bed again. Now he slipped out of it and got dressed in the new clothes he’d convinced Hotch to buy him on Saturday afternoon. Well, he’d supplied the money from his account, but Hotch had done the actual purchasing. He definitely did not want to show up for work looking like a kid on the way to pre-school, so he’d insisted on choosing clothes that were as close to his usual style as he could get. They had also found a small watch that wasn’t too childish, along with a backpack big enough for a book and a few other supplies. Spencer made sure it hadn’t mysteriously come unpacked in the night.
Then he had to wait for Hotch to wake up, and then Jack, and for breakfast, and for them to drive Jack to school. Finally, however, Hotch pulled into a parking space at the BAU building, and Spencer leaped out of the car almost before Hotch pulled the hand brake. Making sure his new identity badge was still attached to the bottom of his sweater under his jacket, he stuck his arms through the straps of his backpack and settled it on his shoulders, then headed towards the entrance. Back to work at last!
“Spencer!” Hotch called from the other side of the car, and when Spencer looked back, Hotch was holding out his hand expectantly. Slightly disgruntled, Spencer went over to take it. As soon as they were out of the parking lot and at the main door, however, he let go.
The security personal had already seen him when he’d come on Thursday, but apparently nobody had told them he was now officially back at work.
“Just let me get you a visitor’s pass, kiddo,” one of the employees said, the one who’d been calling Spencer kiddo ever since Spencer had started work at the BAU. Spencer had always privately thought that the man was so close to retirement age that he probably could have got away with calling Hotch kiddo, too.
“I don’t need one, I have this,” Spencer said, unzipping his jacket to reveal his badge. When the man leaned over to inspect it, Spencer unclipped it and let him have a closer look.
“Is this for real?” the man asked Hotch, taking the badge and checking it back and front. “And here I thought I’d seen it all.“
As they waited for the elevator, a few female agents came through security, and Spencer could tell the minute they spotted him.
“Billy the Kid!” one of them squealed in a mock whisper, but another one quietly corrected her. “Spencer the Kid, you mean.”
“Isn’t he adorable?” the first one whispered back, and behind them, the third woman said a little too loudly, “What do you think Hotch would look like if he’d been de-aged?”
Spencer glanced up at Hotch. As far as he could see, his boss showed only the stern expression he usually wore, but he had a feeling Hotch had heard, and was simply ignoring the women.
“Probably exactly the same way he looks now,” a louder, more familiar female voice stated, and Agent Johnson came around from behind, a large sports bag hanging from one shoulder. While the three other agents opted to avoid them by taking the stairs, she approached and made a formal greeting. “Agent Hotchner. Dr. Reid.“
“Agent Johnson,” Hotch replied, equally formal.
“Hi,” Spencer replied. The elevator dinged and they got in.
“I hope you don’t mind, I’ve asked Facilities Management if I can have a desk in your bullpen,” Agent Johnson said to Hotch. “I’ve got to have someplace to sit while I’m keeping an eye on Dr Reid.”
“That’s perfectly acceptable,” Hotch replied.
They got out on the sixth floor and entered the bullpen. None of the other agents had arrived yet, but two men from FM were already there, positioning a desk and chair a little off to one side.
“That was fast,” Hotch said. Agent Johnson agreed, then strode over and placed her bag on the empty surface. Spencer went to his own desk, shed his backpack and hung his jacket over the back of the chair, then climbed up onto the seat, only to realize it would need adjusting. He tried to work the handle himself, but couldn’t move it sufficiently in the right direction.
“Hotch, can you help me with my chair?” he called out. Hotch came out of the kitchenette holding a cup of coffee, but put it down on the desk and helped Spencer get the seat to the right height.
“Anything else?” he asked.
“I should be okay now, thanks.” Spencer picked up a pen, opened the first case file, and started to read. Emily was the next person in, and Spencer made an effort to engage her in conversation as part of the first step of trying to trust her again. It went surprisingly well. Then JJ came in, and Spencer felt his newfound amiability shrink almost instantly. Fortunately, she only gave him a quick, impersonal hello, and he returned an equally curt hi. One by one, his other co-workers also came in, chatting briefly with him and each other. He was vaguely aware of them getting coffee, introducing themselves to Agent Johnson, and settling down at their desks. It felt like any other Monday at the BAU – until he became aware of a quiet beeping over to one side, like somebody’s watch alarm, and a moment later, Agent Johnson came up to his desk, carrying her sports bag.
“Break time, Sprout,” she announced.
“Uh, yeah, just let me finish this paragraph,” he mumbled, but she laid her hand on his arm, and he looked up in surprise.
“Now,” she said.
Spencer put the pen down. He didn’t want to protest too much in case she complained to Hotch or even higher up.
“Get your jacket, we’re going outside,” she continued on in the same commanding tone.
“I know, I know, fresh air and physical activity,” Spencer recited. It was part of the deal for letting him work at all. He pulled his jacket on as he walked out of the bullpen, and was headed for the elevator when Agent Johnson said, “Nope, we’re taking the stairs.”
Going down wasn’t a problem, but Spencer wondered if she’d insist on climbing all six flights up again when they came back. That would cut into his work time even more.
“Agent Hotchner suggested I walk you around the building,” Agent Johnson said disdainfully as they went down. “But my sister-in-law teaches first grade with an emphasis on physical education, so I sat down with her this weekend and we came up with some better ideas.”
“What kind of ideas?” Spencer asked. He eyed her sports bag warily and hoped the ideas didn’t involve kicking soccer balls, or dribbling basketballs, or playing with any other kind of ball, for that matter.
“Oh, stairs, running, jumping, that kind of thing.”
“Did you tell your sister-in-law about me?”
“Of course not. I just said it was related to a case, and need-to-know.”
Spencer smiled, wondering what the sister-in-law thought of a case that included children’s games on a need-to-know basis. Maybe she thought Agent Johnson would be going undercover somewhere to flush out a school-aged arsonist.
Once they were outside, Agent Johnson said, “All right, first we’re going to march.”
She demonstrated, lifting her knees high and swinging her free arm. After a moment, feeling ridiculous, Spencer followed suit.
“And we’re going to sing,” she continued.
Spencer stopped marching and stared at her. She stared back. “Yes, Sprout, you will sing, and you will march right here next to me so that I can see if you’re trying to get away with anything. Now come on.”
Marching, she guided him towards a large open section of lawn, and began to sing. “We are marching to Pretoria! Pretoria! Pretoria! We are marching to Pretoria! Pretoria, hurrah!”
Noticing his lack of audible participation, she gave him a slight push with her injured hand. ”Come on, Sprout, sing!”
“I don’t know that song, Alleluia,” he shot back, and for the first time, he saw her smile.
“You can call me Ally, Spencer,” she said. “And you’ve just heard the song, so now you know it, and now you can sing it.”
“Did you know that Pretoria is a real city—“
“No talking, Spencer, we are singing as we march!”
They started up again, and Spencer mumbled along, feeling even more ridiculous than before. Ally led him in and out around a few trees, then back to the open lawn, and with the end of the song, stopped marching and set down her bag.
“Now we’re going to play Run Past Ally Alligator,” she announced, and opened the bag. She took out two plastic bottles, each about a quarter full with water. Hugging one to her body with her right arm, she set the other bottle in the grass, then walked across the lawn, counting her steps. At seventy, she stopped and put the second bottle down, then came back and carried the entire bag to the middle point between the two bottles. Spencer watched as she took out a yoga mat and unrolled it, placing it on the grass about a yard away from the bag. Finally, she pulled out a bundle of long strips of cloth.
“Come here,” she called to Spencer. “Take these five green ones and put four of them over there by that bottle. Keep one in your hand, and stay there.”
He separated the green strips and walked them to the far bottle, then laid them on the grass. Ally was doing the same on the other side with the red strips, and when she’d finished, she came back to the mat.
“Now, I’m the alligator and you’re going to run past me while I try to catch your flag,” she said. She lay face down on the mat and extended both arms over her head, clapping them together to imitate alligator jaws.
“Hold your flag in the hand that’s facing me, and run from one bottle to the next,” she sent on. ”You have to run between me and the bag, you can’t go around because there’s a deep cliff on that side and you’ll fall down it.”
Spencer looked dubiously at her, and she amended, “Well, it would be cheating, anyway. Now, when you get to the other side, you drop your green flag and pick up a red one, then run back. The person who has the most flags at the end of ten rounds is the winner. Ready? Set, go!”
Spencer jogged towards the opposite bottle, and when he got close to Ally, she reared her upper body off the mat and snapped the green flag right out of his hand with her wrists.
“You’re going to have to be faster to get past Ally Alligator!” she exclaimed. “Now get the next flag, and sprint! Maybe I won’t get you if you’re fast enough.”
Spencer tried again, holding the red flag in his left hand and speeding up as he got close to Ally, but she snatched the cloth again.
“Keep running, don’t stop,” she encouraged. “You never know, Ally Alligator might come crawling after you.”
But by the time they’d finished the ten rounds, Spencer had only managed to save the last flag, mostly by pulling it out of Ally’s range as he raced by. She laughed, but also praised his strategy. “Good one, Spencer! Okay, help me pack these up, and now it’s time to go in again.”
But by “go in” she meant “march,” as Spencer found out when he tried to race ahead and was pulled back to join her in yet another round of “Pretoria.” When the song finished, Spencer explained the difference between alligators and crocodiles as they climbed the six flights of stairs. By the time they reached their floor, he was panting hard enough to cut his explanation short. He got his water bottle out of his backpack, almost feeling as though he had to take another break to recover from the first one, while Ally sat down at her desk looking as though she’d done nothing more strenuous than walk in the park.
At least Ally let him walk to lunch, instead of making him march down the stairs and all the way around to the FBI dining hall. He didn’t think he’d been there since he’d graduated from the academy. She bypassed the lines of trainee agents and spoke to someone on the other side of a certain counter, then made her way to a small table. Spencer noticed a handwritten sign claiming it was reserved, but Ally told him to sit down even as she took the seat opposite. One of the kitchen workers came over, carrying a tray, and slid it in front of them. There was a small carton of milk and two plates on the tray.
“Thanks, Joe,” Ally said.
“N-no prob-problem,” Joe replied, and went away again. “En-enjoy!”
“Can you take your plate?” Ally asked. As soon as Spencer had lifted his up, she moved the tray over to her side, her meal still on it.
“What’s this?” he asked, looking down at his food.
“Eggplant and lentils,” she replied. “I asked Joe to put a little extra cheese on it for you.”
So this was what she’d meant by “real food.” Spencer stared down at it. “I’ve never eaten eggplant before.”
“There’s butternut squash in here, too,” she mentioned, taking a bite. “Yummy.”
Hesitantly, Spencer took a tiny forkful, and then another one. It wasn’t too bad. It was definitely better than some meals he’d eaten. He’d had lentils once, and remembered thinking that they not only tasted kind of muddy but also reminded him of rabbit pellets. These lentils were different. Tastier. He tried a bigger bite.
“I didn’t know the dining hall served food like this,” he said.
“They just started a few years ago,” Ally explained. “After me and a few other people started campaigning for healthier, whole food and vegetarian options. And as for the special treatment, Joe’s my first cousin once removed, and I helped him get the job here.”
“Oh.” Spencer took another bite.
“That portion’s probably way too big for you. You don’t have to eat it all. And remember, we’re going to be doing some more activities after lunch.”
“More alligators?” Spencer worked to open his milk carton.
“No, I have something else planned.”
“What?”
“Why would I ruin the surprise?”
The first surprise turned out to be crab-walking. Although Ally was able to demonstrate it by pushing up onto her feet and one hand, and even taking a three-limbed step, her injury meant she couldn’t do more than that. But she guided Spencer in a figure eight around two trees and encouraged him to keep his stomach up and not sag.
After that, she put out the yoga mat and made him stretch out, then roll over and over, from one end to the other and back again. Finally, she brought out the strips of cloth again and laid them lengthwise in a long path on the grass, red and green alternating.
“Jump from one colour to the next,” she said. “Try to land with one foot on either side of the cloth and not touching it.”
Spencer had jumped five or six times when she came out in front of him, laying down the strips she’d gathered up from behind.
“If I jump from here all the way back to the building, I don’t think I’ll have enough strength to get up even one step, let alone six flights of stairs,” Spencer said.
Ally put down the last strip, then looked at him for a long moment with all the compassion of a drill sergeant, and finally said, “You’re right, we don’t want to overdo it on your first day. Just finish these last few little leaps.”
Ally also relented enough to make him climb only three flights of stairs and take the elevator from there. When it was time for Spencer’s afternoon break, however, she made him walk all the way down again. Going down, he flexed his hand several times, because it was starting to ache from the writing he’d done that day, which wasn’t even half as much as he remembered doing back when he was older. He hoped nobody but Ally noticed, in case word got back to Hotch or Strauss and made them suddenly want to revisit the terms on which he could still come to work.
“Now we’re going to skip,” Ally announced as they left the building. “We’ll head to that tree over there.”
“Um, I can’t,” Spencer told her.
“What?”
“I can’t skip.”
“Why not? Didn’t you ever learn?”
“I learned how, but I tried it the other day, and it just didn’t work. Maybe this body’s not coordinated enough yet, I don’t know.”
“Can you jump rope? Did you ever learn that?”
“Yeah, the basics, but nothing fancy.”
“Then here.” Ally dug a child-sized jump rope out of her bag and handed it over, but after watching Spencer jumping over it a full second after it hit the ground, three times in a row, she took the rope back. “Maybe you could practice that in your spare time.”
“I thought this was my spare time!”
Ally sighed and said, ”Let’s march, and then we can play Run Past Ally Alligator again.”
Spencer was sure she put the bottles farther away than the first time they’d played the alligator game. And they definitely stayed outside longer than in the morning, and she made him climb three flights of stairs again. Once he finally got back to his desk, it seemed like he barely had time to do any work at all before Ally popped up and laid her hand on his arm.
“Work time’s over, Sprout.”
“I’m almost finished with this,” he said, still writing.
“Your eight hours are up.”
But when Spencer continued to write, she plucked the pen out of his fingers.
“Just let me finish that word!”
“You can finish it to-morrow,” she said. “It’s not going anywhere. Unlike you. Now come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“I’m supposed to hand you over to Agent Hotchner, so that’s what I’m doing.” She used her good hand to pull his chair away from his desk. Resigned, he got down and accompanied her up the steps to the mezzanine where Hotch’s office was. The door was open, so Ally put a foot in. “Handing over Dr Reid, sir.”
Hotch looked up from the reading material on his desk. “How’d it go, Johnson?”
“Lots of fresh air and physical activity, as agreed, sir, and he ate a good lunch. No problems to report, sir.”
Hotch smiled slightly. “You can call me Hotch.”
“I didn’t want to presume, sir,” Ally said, then amended it to, “Hotch.”
“All right, then we’ll see you to-morrow.” Hotch gave her a smile. “And thanks.”
They exchanged good-byes and Ally went out. Hotch said, “Take a seat, Spencer, I just need to finish this quickly.”
Spencer sat down on the couch and waited, wondering if it was worth taking the book out of his backpack if he was just going to have to close it again two pages later. But after five minutes had gone by in which Hotch was still not showing any signs of finishing quickly, Spencer had a better idea.
“Um, Hotch, I left my jacket at my desk. I’m just going to go get it.”
“Sure,” Hotch answered without looking up. Spencer went quickly down the stairs and sat down at his desk again, ignoring Emily’s questioning look, and picked up his pen.
“Spencer,” she said in a low, warning voice, drawing his name out.
“I just need to finish this one word,” he said.
But the one word led to the next, and the next after that, and before he knew it, he’d finished the entire report. Closing the file, Spencer started to shake out his cramped hand, but stopped when he realized Hotch was standing there, arms crossed, and giving him a disapproving glare.
Emily gave a fake cough that sounded suspiciously like “Busted!”
“I’ll tell Johnson you’re finishing half an hour early to-morrow,” Hotch said.
“It was only five –“ Spencer checked his watch – “fifteen minutes! And you had something you wanted to finish, too.”
“You sound tired and irritable,” Hotch said. “Get your stuff, let’s go home, and you can go to bed early.”
“I’m fine,” Spencer protested. As they walked to the elevator, he pulled his jacket on and got his backpack settled on his shoulders. “I’m not irritable at all, and I’m only tired because I’ve been going up and down stairs and marching to Pretoria all day.”
“Pretoria, hurrah!” Hotch said, almost singing, but not quite.
“You know that song, too?” Spencer had been wondering if Ally had made it up.
“When I was in first grade, my teacher made us stand up every so often and march in place at our desks, singing that song.”
“Hotch, did you know that Pretoria is a real city in what was then the South African Republic, also called the Transvaal, but is now the Republic of South Africa? It was founded in 1855 by Marthinus Pretorius, and named for his father Andries Pretorius, who were descendents of the first Dutch settlers in that region.”
“I didn’t know it back then when I was marching there, but I do now,” Hotch said.
Part 9
Part 7
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