Post-ep 12X16 Assistance Is Futile

Broken Promises

He immediately sought out the solitariness of his cell. He was no longer afforded the luxury of privacy….for that was how he'd come to understand it now, as a luxury….but he could be alone, hopefully, for at least a few minutes.

He'd wanted to put up a better front, to look like he wasn't struggling as much as he was. He knew they would be doing all they possibly could. There was no point in giving them added pressure by looking like he was falling apart. Even if he was.

I didn't even realize how close I was to the edge. I thought I was holding it together. And then, I walked into that room, and I saw her….and I could have cried, right then and there.

He'd been caught off guard by the depth of his reaction. He'd welcomed the idea of a visitor, of some connection to the life he'd left behind such a short time before. He'd been excited to have been called to the visitor queue. He'd had just the slightest spring to his step as he'd followed the others into the visiting area. And then…

The sight of her face, that beautiful, familiar face, made all the more precious by his deep connection with the person who owned it….it had nearly taken his legs out from under him. Her expression had brightened the moment she'd seen him, and that had been enough to propel him forward and into her embrace…until that embrace had been forbidden so abruptly and harshly that his arms actually ached for their emptiness. There had been nothing left to do but to fall onto the stool, and take her in. In that same moment, she'd done the same, and each of them had sat there, recalling, in the split of a second, the myriad things that had woven the bond between them.

They'd seen each other through so many of life's momentous events…..death, new life, joy, sorrow, faith, betrayal, love, loss. Unthinkable loss. They'd each been traumatized, and had each had to find their footing again. And they'd done so, with the help of their friends, most especially each other. Without speaking it, they'd both realized that they were at another one of those moments. Like the others, this one had come, seemingly, out of nowhere. But, unlike the others, it had already persisted far longer than hope alone could sustain them. If they were to win this battle, it would have to be through sheer determination and will, in defiance of the circumstances stacked against them.

As he'd looked at JJ, he'd seen his own memories reflected in her eyes. Those pivotal events, both happy and sad, were present. But so were all of those countless 'nothing' moments…. the ones that served as both substrate and cement for their friendship, the plasma that held them together. The moments that made all of the others precious, or tolerable. The smiles, the laughter, the vignettes from one another's lives, his delight in her boys, her caretaking of his mother, a cup of coffee or tea, made just to the other's liking, a nap on the plane, with the sleepy head falling onto the other's shoulder.

Those moments of nothing...and everything...lost to them, now.

In survivor mode, they'd moved on. She'd assured him about his mother, then delivered the bad news that his tox screen wouldn't support his assumption that he'd been given scopolamine. With that revelation, his spirits, so transiently lifted, had come crashing down. The scopolamine had been the link they'd been counting on….the link they'd been waiting for, all this time….that would have given them enough to 'officially' theorize the connection to Scratch. Without that connection, they couldn't make the case that Scratch was still actively killing. Which meant it wouldn't be a BAU case.

He'd cast his eyes away from her, when she'd told him, but not before JJ had seen the light go out of them.

"Spence…we'll find another way. I promise."

"He'll get away with it!"

"We're not going to let him. I promise."

The word clearly not infused with the confidence she'd hoped to give it. Reid heard, and lifted his eyes to see the look of pleading in hers.

Please believe me. Believe this. Then, maybe I can, too.

So he'd acquiesced, because, after all this time, he simply could never say 'no' to her.

"All right. Okay."

He'd thought that might have been the most difficult part of the visit. That she'd delivered her bad news, and he'd survived it. But then….then she'd lifted the one object she'd been permitted to bring inside. A piece of paper.

"This one is you, and this one is Henry, from that day we went to the park."

If seeing her had taken his feet from him, this vicarious contact with his godson had taken his breath. In an instant, he was bombarded with one image after another, a timeline of Henry's life, from the moment they'd first met, in JJ's hospital room. That day had been both terrible and wonderful, too. And the infant in his arms had served as a lifeline for Reid, an anchor, keeping him in that particular present, and turning his focus toward the future, after having just relived so much of his dysfunctional past.

From that time until now, Henry had been a source of joy and wonderment to Reid. He'd reveled in the boy's every new milestone met and eagerly anticipated the next. He'd been delighted at the sound of baby giggle, and delighted still at Henry's fully dramatized tales of the ups and downs of second grade. On those occasions when circumstance had kept them apart for more than a few weeks, Reid had marveled at the changes wrought in just that brief period of time. Each new Henry had brought its own pleasure, at the same time that it brought a nostalgia for the versions already outgrown. He would never see those 'Henrys' again.

What if I don't see him for years? What if he's completely different? What if he doesn't even know me any more? What if he doesn't want to?

The thought of it had overwhelmed him, and he'd barely been able to find his voice as he'd tried to express his gratitude. Which had overwhelmed her.

And then, just that quickly, their time together had come to an end. No goodbyes. Just 'Stay strong!', and he'd put on his mask and fallen in line, hoping to make it as far as his cell before the facade fell away. Before entering the hallway, he'd cast his eyes over his shoulder, for one last glance at JJ.

Her mask hadn't held, either.

Now, alone in his metal and concrete home, Reid did exactly as JJ had. He sat, and covered his face, and wept.

When did I become such a liar?

JJ sniffled as she pulled out of the visitor lot.

I sounded just like I sound with Henry. 'I promise I'll take you to the zoo another day, Honey.' 'I promise you'll feel better in the morning, Honey.' 'I promise Toby will be your friend again tomorrow.' 'I promise I'll never leave you.'

Empty maternal promises, all well-intentioned, all born of love. Something all parents do, to convince their children that the world isn't as unfair, or unsafe, or unforgiving, as it seems.

But it is. Dear God, it is. And Spence is living it.

She couldn't shake the image of his face, as he'd tried so desperately not to break down in front of her. Couldn't replace it with a happier memory. Couldn't see him shaven, and smiling, spiffed up in his sweater vest and tie. That image wouldn't come. All she could see was him fighting for control, a figure blurred by the tears that had rushed to her own eyes.

Maybe we're all wrong. Maybe we shouldn't be making promises to our kids. Maybe it would toughen them up for what comes next. But...why? Why can't we preserve their innocence? Why can't we all be innocent forever?

She flashed on a promise made, long ago, in her own mother's voice.

'I promise it will get better, Sweetheart. They can't talk about us forever.'

That promise hadn't been kept, either. It hadn't gotten better. Not until she'd left home, and put that gossip-ridden small town behind her. And she hadn't gotten around to taking Henry to the zoo. And now, she feared that she'd lied once again.

What if we can't get him out? What if we don't find another way? What if he's right? What if Scratch wins?

Tears blurred her vision yet again, as she drove down the highway.

I even promised he wouldn't be alone. But I couldn't keep that one, either, could I? I couldn't even touch him! And I had to leave him behind.

What do I have to give him besides empty promises?

The irony wasn't lost on Reid. Being in prison, 'doing time', sometimes left one with anything but. His moment of solitude had been fleeting, his catharsis ended abruptly when the alert sounded for meal time. Had there been a choice, he would have skipped the meal. As it was, he would be forced to march, and to accept the food. But he wouldn't be forced to eat it. So he wiped at his face with his shirttail and exited his cell for lineup.

He could still feel the turmoil within. The new layer of turmoil, laid upon the foundation of unrest that seemed to be his current 'resting' state. He felt a yearning that had become almost a physical sensation of tugging, as though his heart had been tethered to JJ, and to the life he'd left behind. And to Henry.

His eidetic memory had recovered from whatever had assailed it in Mexico. He could still see, down to the color of the birds flying in the sky, every detail of Henry's picture. The brown head and the blonde. His sweater vest. The trees of the park. He remembered that day. A beautiful, sunny Saturday, Henry pulling him along by the hand, eager to get to the playscape, JJ pushing Michael along in his stroller. Henry had convinced Reid to swing with him, 'as high as the sky!'. Reid had smiled for a long time over the sensation of flying, and freedom, and the giggles of his companion in the next swing. He'd promised he would bring Henry back to the park again, soon, and had been looking forward to it nearly as much as the youngster had. But that had been weeks ago, and now...

I only wish you could lead me into freedom once again, my little man. And I wish I could keep my promise.

The thought, and the memory of something that might be forever gone from his life, brought the threat of tears once again, and he had to actively force himself to think about something else. Anything else. The case, maybe. The one he wouldn't be working on. He tried to remember what JJ had told him...three victims, six weeks, no pattern...

"Step it up!"

In the mess hall, he sought out Calvin Shaw. He still hadn't quite come to a conclusion on him as friend or foe. But he did take notice that there always seemed to be a seat available across from the currently reigning inmate. And he did remember the words of his fellow newbie, Luis, from this morning. 'I'm not the skinny white guy sprinkled in fairy dust.'

Everything about it had bothered him, from the fact of the beating, to the knowledge that he'd only been spared because he'd been in the favor of someone whose power to control the situation remained a mystery. Yes, Shaw had offered an explanation, but it had been thin, at best.

Maybe having killed an informant offers him some level of protection. But I don't see how it gives him power. Especially when they seem to want to divide across racial lines, but his influence seems to extend over all camps. And he's still a fed.

Luis was right. Shaw's influence seemed to extend to the protection of one, particular, 'skinny white guy'. And Reid had to wonder if said influence had also extended to directing the beating of one small Latino.

Maybe he's not just offering protection. Maybe he's ordering the violence. But, why?

At least a decade's worth of memories spun forth in Reid's brain. Years of having been the 'Luis' of one class after another, one school after another. His youngest self hadn't been able to understand why he'd been targeted, nor why the other kids had done nothing to help him. But the self who'd become the experienced victim had come to realize the dynamic.

They all think it has to be someone, and they're afraid it will be them, if it's not me. So they cater to the bully, and even become his henchmen.

He'd promised himself, all those years ago, that he would never become the henchman. That he would never knowingly contribute to the pain, let alone the abuse, of another. That he would step out, and step up, risking himself, if necessary. He'd promised himself.

And then, just an hour ago, he'd made another promise. He'd promised JJ that he would keep his head down, that he would do his best to emerge from prison unharmed. Physically, anyway. Should he actually emerge.

As he settled into the seat across from Shaw, Reid spied something that would put both promises in competition for fulfillment. Several of the larger, more imposing, inmates surrounded Luis, one flinging a threatening arm across the obviously frightened young man's shoulders. Although Reid couldn't hear the words spoken, he could read the body language.

"They're going to kill him."

He rose from his seat, his inner self having decided on which promise to keep. But Shaw grabbed his arm and pulled him back down.

"No, they won't. They'll hurt him, but they won't kill him."

And he reminded Reid, once again, that neither of them any longer had a badge or a gun. Just as Shaw had, Reid would have to learn a new way of being, and a new set of rules. He would have to choose a new identity. He would have to be either predator, or prey.

Reid took but a moment to make his choice. He could keep only one of his promises. As much as he loved JJ, it was his promise to himself that he would have to keep. Because it defined him to his core. And because it was also a promise to every other person punished for the simple act of being.

It's me she wants to come out of prison. It's me she cares about, not some empty shell impersonating me. It's me she loves, and not the person who could stand aside to preserve himself at the expense of someone else. She'll understand.

On a gut level, he knew it to be true. She would understand. It would grieve her, to know that he'd been hurt. But she would understand. She knew him as well as he could be known. She would make the others see, if she had to. She would even see to his mother, if it came to that. He didn't want to hurt her, but he simply couldn't make any other decision.

If I go along with Shaw, I'm lost. It won't matter when I get out, or even if I do. I'm sorry, JJ. I'm sorry, Henry, and all the Henrys to come. And little Mikey and Hank. I'm sorry.

Resolved, he told Calvin Shaw, "I still know how to stop a psychopath."

He gulped down his water, so that he could pretend to need more. And then he rose, and made sure he had eyes on him. When it was time, he bent forward, and whispered into the ear of the guard.

And then he went back to his seat, and took up the rest of his day. And he waited.