Chapter 1
The irrationality of a thing is no argument against it, rather a condition of it: - Friedrich Nietzsche
Reset – Remodel
A/N: This is AU to the fics I have been writing. Taken right back to the beginning.
Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.
Unfair advantage: Is what they called it.
There were arguments and a couple of banishments but a favoured one was being given back his toy.
He cursed and raged at the new conditions set. All that hard work. All those years and now he had to start again.
"It is that or nothing."
He was told and so he accepted the new challenge. Even though it was a repeat.
"Things will work out differently this time."
He was told that all the other times the reset wasn't complete. This time it was. This time he was going to have to work harder and this time if he wanted what he needed at the end then he was going to have to be a lot more careful.
"Go and have fun. Your training is nearly complete, but be warned. Mess it up and you won't get another chance. You will be bound and grounded."
A nod and a sigh. There was no other way.
-o-o-o-
He sat at his desk and fidgeted and rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his hand. It had been a long day. A nasty case and he just wanted to get home now – but the paper work needed to be finished first. Reid didn't like to leave things when they could be done now. He picked up the next file and sighed.
"You staying the night?" Morgan stood and grinned at Reid.
"Maybe. I'm not sure how long this will take."
Derek nodded. "Well I'm going home to relax. Maybe you should too."
Spencer looked up at him. "I will. When I've done this. Then tomorrow I will be free to do yours."
He received a friendly slap across the head. "Night then. See you later." And the last team member was gone.
Reid sat and stared at the file on the desk for a few minutes before he got up grabbing his messenger bag and walked quickly to the men's room.
He stood in front of the washbasins and looked at his face in the mirror.
"You can't do this. It will be the biggest mistake of your life."
He rubbed again at his eyes and them gazed at the dark rings forming under his eyes. He leaned forwards over the basins and put his face close to the mirror as though looking for something deep inside his own eyes.
His hand slipped into his bag and pulled out his phone. Spencer pulled back away from the basins and looked down at the cell phone sitting in his hand. His finger brushed over the buttons but he didn't call out. He glared at the phone again and stuffed it back in his bag. Pushing it right to the bottom. Out of sight out of mind. Only it doesn't quite work like that.
Spencer took a few steps back from the mirror and frowned. He then turned and went back to his desk – sitting down with a sigh and looking at the file on the desk in front of him. On the top was an envelope. He just sat and looked at it for a while. It hadn't been there before he was sure of it. He touched it with his right index finger and then picked it up.
'To Spencer.'
He frowned and looked around. The cleaning staff had just arrived and he for a brief second wondered if it was a note from one of them – but if it was no one was even glancing in his direction. They were used to seeing the young long haired Agent sitting working long after the others had left.
Spencer turned the envelope over in his hand and looked at it again. He shook it gently and ran his fingers over it to see if he could feel anything inside. He knew he should take it to the lab to be tested first. It was what you should do, but something compelled him to open it.
The white envelope opened along the short edge. He put his finger under the edge of the flap and pulled it open.
It didn't explode.
It didn't give of noxious fumes and kill in instantly.
Both things meant that he could breathe again and remove those silly thoughts from his mind. He tipped up the envelope and poured the contents onto his desk.
Two things fell out.
A small grainy picture of him as a child.
A small bit of red paper with tiny writing on it. He picked the photograph first. He was about twelve in the picture standing outside school. He frowned at it and put it back down again and the picked up the bit of paper. The writing was so tiny that he had to virtually have his nose pressed to it to read it.
Small very neat cursive fancy writing.
'Spencer – meet me outside.'
He rubbed at his nose and licked his lips and then sneezed.
He put the bit of paper back in the envelope and picked up the picture again. It had been cut from a bigger snap shot. It looked as though he was in a crowd and he wasn't smiling. The tiny one inch square picture of the side of his face was then put in the envelope with the bit of paper. He then shoved the whole lot into the pocket of the jacket he had over the back of his chair. There was no way he was going to meet someone outside. Absolutely not. That would be insane.
He reached for the next file and sneezed again. He put his hand to his face and stopped what he was doing again and just breathed in the scent on his fingers. He frowned and pulled the envelope out again. He tipped out the contents and picked up the photograph. He tried to go back and remember what was going on, but there wasn't enough left of the photo for him to be able to tell. He slid it back into the envelope and looked down at the paper again. It had fallen face down and now on the back he could see more writing but so tiny he would never be able to see what it said. He chewed on his bottom lip for a while then picked it up and went up to Hotch's office. The door was ajar and the cleaning lady was there hovering around the desk. She didn't look up at Spencer, she just quickly unplugged and left. Reid sat at Hotch's desk and put the bit of paper down. He pulled open the top drawer on Aaron's desk and rummaged around until he found the small magnifying glass he knew he kept in there.
Holding the paper secure he turned on the desk light and held the magnifying glass over it. He squinted at it and then looked again.
'hear me – see me – taste me.'
He rubbed at his eyes and tried again, but that was definitely what it said and again in the very fancy handwriting. He slid the magnifier back into Hotch's drawer and stood up picking up the bit of paper and walking back to his desk.
Tomorrow he would show this to Hotch. He sat back down again and put all the bits back into the envelope and decided he would leave it on his desk. He slid it to the back and the opened up the file he wanted to work on – but now his mind was firmly on the contents of the envelope and his concentration span had dropped to zero.
He sat and looked at it. At the writing. At the placement of the word 'Spencer' he looked at the loops and the slants and the pressure and everything the could think of and the only thing he came up with was – 'nice paper'.
Spencer lifted it to his nose and inhaled a soft scent coming from it. There seemed little point in him staying here now. He put the envelope in his desk drawer and pulled his jacket on and then slung his bag over his shoulder.
When he stepped out of the building into the night air the message he had received came back to mind. Was someone out here waiting for him? Was he putting himself in danger by going out here with no protection? He moved his jacket out of the way of his gun and put his hand in his trouser pockets as he looked around. Nothing seemed out of place. The bus went by full of people. Others stood around a hot dog stand. A couple of parked cars and a guy on a motorbike talking to some skinny kids. No one even glanced in his direction, so if he was meant to be meeting someone he had been stood up. Not the first time. He expected they were all watching from somewhere having a good laugh at his expense. That was nothing new either. With a sigh he walked down towards the subway.
-o-o-o-
He sat and watched as Spencer walked away. A small smirk on his lips. He watched until Reid disappeared into the night and then turned and left.
-o-o-o-
His apartment was small, but it was what he liked and he didn't need it to be any bigger. It was packed with books old and new and piles of paper where he had been scrawling notes for one thing or another. He found writing it out by hand made it feel more personal.
Bag hung over a hook. Gun secured in a drawer and jacket over the back of a chair he went to make a coffee.
He opened the cupboard and removed his favourite white mug with a big 'S' on the side. Garcia had got it for him. It had had a giant chocolate egg in it at one point. He smiled at it and placed it on the grey work surface and turned to get the coffee machine ready.
His stomach turned over and he stood frozen to the spot. Leaning against the coffee machine was another letter.
'To Spencer.'
The same hand writing. He could see that clearly from where he was standing. He took a step forward and just looked at it.
Now was the time to call Hotch.
He stepped back away from the letter and turned to get his phone from where he had buried it in the bottom of his bag. He pulled the flap up on the bag and rummaged down into the bottom of the bag where he had stuffed it. He caught his finger on a paper clip which stabbed at him behind his thumb nail. He snatched his hand from the bag and put his thumb in his mouth. Now picking the bag up he tipped the contents on the floor.
No phone.
But the letter he had put in the draw at work was sitting there looking up at him. Spencer stood and stared at the letter and rubbed at his temples. He left the mess on the floor and forgoing his mug of coffee he made for a tiny bottle of whiskey had had put by for if he ever had a guest. It had been there a year now and had never been opened. He tipped a tiny amount into a tumbler and walked to the phone he had on the desk by the window. From where he was standing he could see the letter looking at him. Staring at him. Accusing him of something.
He picked up the phone off the cradle and put it to his ear.
A sigh.
He prodded the buttons, but there was no dial tone. He put the receiver back down again and tipped the rest of the drink down the back of his throat.
The sudden noise made him drop the tumbler. It smashed to the floor at his feet as he stood staring down the passage at the door which was being hammered on rather insistently.
A/N: A small start of something old and new. Let me know if it's worth continuing… Thank you Pb tin
