Lost
Spencer Reid had been at his shift for three hours now, in the uniform of dark vest, khaki slacks and white shirt. The store was busy as usual, and he had seen the usual array of customers for a Wednesday. More seniors, because seniors got special deals on Wednesdays. Less moms because there were too many seniors.
Spencer was mindlessly restocking the peanut butter, keeping himself amused by recalling last night's Star Trek rerun. He was going through the dialogue in his head, glad for his eidetic memory, when the radio at his belt crackled to life.
"We need someone at the deli counter, pronto." It was the manager, Kelly. Since Spencer didn't work the deli, he ignored it, knowing that someone else would be on their way.
Radios were unusual for a grocery store, but the intercom system was being updated and they'd been using the radios were a few weeks now.
Spencer went back to the peanut butter, checking his urge to whistle.
Then he felt a tug and looked down. A boy stood there, about six, and he seemed to be fighting the urge to cry.
"Hey, little man, what's wrong?" Spencer asked, immediately dropping the scanner and crouching down beside him.
"I can't find my daddy," the boy said, in a quiet voice that further proved the hypothesis that he was fighting back tears.
"Who is your daddy?" When the kid looked blank, Spencer tried again. "Where did you last see him?"
"Passing the toys. I stopped to look and then he was gone."
Spencer considered things. He could sure use the intercom right now and the boy seemed to have the same idea.
"What about the voice thing?" He asked, and through some miracle, or because they were thinking the same thing, Spencer knew what the boy was talking about.
"It's broken," he told him, and this appeared to be too much. The tears in his eyes overflowed and Spencer panicked.
"No, don't cry. It will be okay. We'll find your daddy. What's his name?"
"Aaron Hotchner," the boy stumbled. "And I'm Jack."
"Of course, of course," Reid murmured. "Come on, it's okay."
"No, it isn't!" Jack wailed, and Spencer, without thinking, picked him up.
"We'll go find him, okay, Jack?" He asked, resisting the urge to cradle the boy closer. He was already breaking protocol by holding him but Jack's tears were making him want to hurry and Jack was in no mood to walk quickly.
Spencer walked quickly through the store, thinking that he'd go back to where the toys were and see if Jack's father was there. His sneakers slid over the floors as Spencer checked each aisle for someone that could be Jack's father, a hard task considering that he had no idea what the man looked like.
Jack's tears weren't slowing and Spencer was glad of the muscles he'd gained since working here; otherwise his arms would have hurt from holding Jack so long.
"Curses on the one who decided we needed a new system," he growled to himself, as one would have made this have been over minutes ago.
"Okay, Jack, what does your father look like? How old is he?"
Jack's tears slowed as he tried to answer. "He has dark hair and he's tall."
"What's he wearing?"
"Um…" Jack concentrated. "I don't remember."
"What about your mother?" Spencer asked, hoping that another adult would make this end sooner.
"She's gone," Jack said softly, and Spencer wondered what exactly 'gone' meant. Since the mention of her caused Jack's tears to return, Spencer guessed 'gone' meant dead. Poor kid. His mother was gone and his father was careless enough to lose him in a grocery store with twelve aisles. If Spencer had been a pedophile, he wouldn't even have to have tried to get Jack.
Spencer let Jack back down. "Let's walk a bit. Do you—do you want some candy?"
He was feeling more like an offender every second.
"Daddy says not to take candy from strangers."
"I'm not a stranger, I'm Spencer," Spencer retorted, dying at how stupid that sounded.
Jack sniffled. "What kind of candy?"
"I have a piece of licorice," Spencer offered, and Jack crinkled his nose.
"Licorice isn't candy."
"Okay, well, there's a vending machine over there. I can get you something from that."
With the mention of candy, and the fact that candy from a vending machine definitely wasn't drugged, both Jack and Spencer felt comforted. Jack speeded right over to it and stood so close he almost pressed his nose against the glass.
"I want the Snickers," he said and Spencer fumbled for exact change.
"All right, you can put them in."
Jack took the proffered coins gladly and carefully slipped them into the machine, always waiting for the previous coin to clang before he inserted the next.
"And Snickers is number 69, Jack," Spencer told him and Jack carefully put in the numbers. It was then everything failed. The candy bar didn't fall, and Spencer remembered that the machine was out of order.
"Ooh," Spencer groaned as Jack's face fell and he madly pushed the numbers again. Nothing happened.
"It's broken," Jack really wailed this time.
"It's okay, Jack, it's okay," Spencer assured him madly, stumbling over the words in his panic. "Don't cry."
"I want my daddy," Jack sobbed, and Spencer again lifted him into his arms, jiggling him to get him to stop.
"I'm not a baby," Jack wailed. "Don't bounce me."
"Sorry, sorry, Jack. Listen, do you want to—"
"What are you doing with my son?" Interrupted a cold, baritone voice. Spencer froze.
Aaron Hotchner had spent the last ten minutes madly searching for his son, and was just about to have a minor panic attack when he spotted him in the arms of a tall, gangly stock boy. Jack was crying and, as relieved as Aaron was to find him, he was also angry to see him in this position.
The boy—no, he was older than that—spun around, his hair flying into his face. "Oh, sir, I am so sorry, but he was lost and he was crying and—"
During the frenzied sentence, Aaron had taken Jack and the boy was now using his hands to wildly gesticulate. "I swear, I was not going to do anything to him. I was just buying him a candy bar and the machine was broken and Jack went a little—"
After making certain that Jack was, indeed, fine, Aaron let his son down, keeping a tight hold on his hand.
The boy, whose tag read Spencer, was looking less gangly and more competent. He'd straightened and had stopped babbling and was now regarding Aaron with a steady stare.
"I was just helping him," Spencer stated firmly.
Aaron held up a hand. "No, it's okay. I overreacted. I'm just glad he's okay."
Spencer felt as though a world had been lifted from his shoulders at the words. He'd had the fright of his life to hear such words, spoken in such a voice, by…such a man. Aaron Hotchner was indeed tall and dark haired and Spencer fought to keep his thoughts and words on Jack.
"Well, I'll be going now," Spencer muttered finally, realizing he'd been staring at Aaron when the man cleared his throat.
He twisted his body to sidle past Aaron, but the man turned and caught his arm.
"Seriously, uh, Spencer. Thank you for looking after him."
Spencer tried not to stare at the hand on his arm. "You're—" he cleared his throat— "Welcome."
He felt the man's eyes on his back until he turned the corner where he leaned against the wall and put his head in his hands.
What an encounter.
A/N: This is before Reid is recruited. Once I had published it, I found that I wanted to add some more with Hotch so I'm adding another chapter soon.