Hand on the Glass
The first time he called was to say that he was having Diana transferred to a medical research facility in Houston. He said she had early-onset dementia. He did not protest as he had taken care of her up to this point and he trusted his judgement. The second time he called was to say he was moving her in with him and hiring a nurse. Again, he did not question his decision-making process but hoped he knew what he was doing. William Reid trusted his son to do what was best.
One night he opened his email to find the latest alerts on his son's heroics. What he read instead felt like a punch to the stomach. His son was arrested for murdering a woman in Mexico in addition to possession of drugs. He was deemed a flight risk and was currently in jail. His son was in prison. This did not feel real.
William could not sleep for a few days after that. He tossed and turned. His dreams were filled with horrible visions of his son being abused. Once he even dreamed he called out to him, which made no sense. But on some level, it did, which is why he found himself dialing the number for the prison which his son was being held in.
He scheduled a visit before he could talk himself out of doing so. Spencer could walk away if he didn't want to see him. William didn't even know what he would say. He just felt like he had to be there for him for the first time in his life.
…
He looked haunted and unkempt. His hair was a mess and the shadow of beard looked like a smear of dirt on his face. But the look in his eyes was what got to him. This was not his bright-eyed son. This was a man who had seen horrible things recently.
"Dad?" he said.
William waited, half-expecting him to walk away. But he didn't. William knew his son was always twice the man he was and this proved it without question.
"Hi son," he said softly.
There was an awkward pause as they both sat down. It felt weird looking over a piece of glass at him. But then again, none of this felt normal.
"How's mom?" he asked.
"I didn't check on her," he said nervously. "I didn't want to raise any further alarms in her life and hearing my voice would just be another sign of something being off."
"Good idea," he mumbled.
There was another pause.
"Son," he pleaded. "I was a terrible father. I made some horrible decisions without considering how you might be feeling. There are so many times when I could have reached out but I didn't because honestly, I am a coward. I'm here because you're in trouble and for once in my life I felt compelled to do something, even it was to see you turn around and refuse to see me."
Spencer stared at him intently. Tears started to fall.
"I'm afraid," he said.
"You'll get through this son," he said with as much determination as he could muster. "You have friends who can help you."
"But not while I'm in here," he said. "There really is no one I can trust."
"Then trust yourself," he said. "Trust your ability to read people. Believe in yourself. I always have from afar."
"I really screwed up," he said. "I never should have gone over the border. I should have—"
"Don't second guess yourself now son. It will eat you alive. Take it from someone who knows. Live in the present to survive."
Spencer suddenly put his hand on the glass. William matched his hand to it. For a second they both looked the glass and then looked at each other.
"I love you son," he said as tears formed.
"I love you too, Dad," he croaked out.
"Visiting hours are over," the guard announced.
"Please come again," he said as he got up.
"Of course, son," he said.
He watched his son leave with the other inmates. William then rushed out of the room. He ran to his rental car and as soon and as he was behind the wheel, burst into sobs that shook his whole body. He howled as he cried. His son didn't belong here.
…
He took a leave absence from work. He saw his son once a week until his trial. Spencer began to open to him about things he experienced in prison he was afraid to tell the team for fear of them worrying too much about him. He had never seen his son look so lost or despondent. William hated seeing his son like this and would give anything to change it.
One day he ran into a woman with dark hair waiting outside the visitor's room.
"I'm Agent Emily Prentiss," she said. "Spencer's chief supervisor."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Agent Prentiss. I trust my son has had nothing but negative things to say about me. All of which, are true."
"It is quite opposite actually," she said. "He says you've been meeting with him regularly. Something my team has had difficulty doing due to the nature of our job."
"I'm humbled," he said. "Thank you for sharing that with me."
"Thank you, Mr. Reid," she said as her voice waivered slightly. "I worry about him constantly, but knowing he has a regular visitor brings me a little peace."
"Even if it is me?" he said.
"Don't sell yourself short Mr. Reid," Prentiss said. "You're here for him now that is all that currently matters."
"Thank you," he said.
They walked out of the prison together.
…
The trial was difficult to watch. The prosecutors did not paint him in a good light. They tore into each of Duncan's character witnesses. He wished he could do more but a single glance from his son told him his presence was important.
It was hard to describe what happened because it was crazy. This "Mr. Scratch" character came into the picture. It was a flurry of motion but the most important result was this: His son was declared innocent.
He was still suspended from the BAU pending a formal hearing. During this time, Spencer chose to move Diana back to Las Vegas. The three of them spent more time together during those three months than they had in years. It was almost like being a family again.
Spencer said he would write to him regularly, like he did with Diana. William said it wasn't necessary but he insisted.
On the last day, Spencer allowed him to take him to the airport. At the entrance, they stood there for second staring at each other.
"Thanks, dad," he said. "For everything."
"Thank you, son," he said. "For allowing me into your life."
"I needed you, and you were there," he said.
They hugged.
"Goodbye dad," he said.
"Bye son. I love you."
"I love you too."
He then walked away. He watched his son leave. He never imagined he would ever have this sort of reconciliation with his son and would have given the world for it not to have existed if it meant his son hadn't gone to prison.
This was life. It takes odd twist and turns. He had to let it go and live in the present. It was all he had.
Two months later his email alerted him to a new story: His son had saved a man from jumping off a building with his hostage. His son was back to being the hero he was always meant to be.