A.N. Just a short one, a three-shot meant to ease withdrawal, one for each Reid-less episode of…..the Banishment. This one will be bittersweet, at best.
The Banishment
Chapter 1
"Dr. Reid, hello." The psychiatrist shook hands as he greeted the son of one of his long time patients. "I'm glad you were able to get away."
"It's only for a short visit, I'm afraid, Dr. Norman. Thanks for keeping me aware of what's been happening."
"I'm so sorry the news isn't better. We had reason to believe the drug was promising, but, sadly, Mrs. Reid isn't the only one who's suffered a relapse."
Genuine regret was audible in Dr. Norman's voice. Spencer Reid knew that his mother's physician had developed a friendship of sorts with her, over their long tenure together.
The son of Diana Reid understood the attraction. He was well aware of his mother's remarkable intelligence and storehouse of information about all things medieval: myth, customs, lore, history and, most especially, her beloved medieval literature. As a child, he'd spent whole days enthralled with her tales, lulled into a nearly hypnotic state by her low, raspy voice, virtually living the stories as she told them. That they'd become locked inside the vault of her mind, sometimes unreachable even by her, was one of the great tragedies of both of their lives.
But, fortunately, the confinement of her knowledge hadn't been consistent. It had been interspersed with recurring moments of lightness, of near-clearheadedness on Diana's part. During those periods, she would resume her former duties as a professor of literature, even if only for an audience of one. Reid relished the memories of those times, of the days and nights when it seemed that they'd been given a reprieve, however momentary. And he could easily understand if she'd had the same effect on Dr. Norman.
"I'm sorry, too. I know we had our differences about the drug trial starting without my knowledge, but you did manage to convince me that I would have agreed to it anyway. It did sound promising for a while. Mom was sounding almost like she did when I was a kid."
Dr. Norman was curious about that. He'd never heard about Reid's childhood experience of Diana's illness.
"Do you remember a time when she was completely healthy?"
"In retrospect, no. She told me, much later, that she'd gone off her meds to have me. So, obviously, she'd already been diagnosed. But, as a child, I didn't realize that. I didn't even really recognize her as ill. I thought she was just 'Mom'. I didn't have all that many friends, so I didn't exactly have a wide basis for comparison. But, you know, everyone has an individual personality. I just didn't realize that hers was pathologic."
"Technically, Dr. Reid, it's not her personality that's pathologic. Schizophrenia is an entirely different phenomenon." Dr. Norman had reflexively gone into teaching mode. But, suddenly realizing who was playing the role of student, he issued a sheepish grin. "Sorry. Forgot who I was talking to."
Reid smiled in return. "It's true, I've probably read just about everything there is on schizophrenia. But I don't have the kind of clinical experience that you do. I'm always up for a lesson."
The psychiatrist smiled. "Are you up for seeing your mother, as well?" Shifting the subject. "She's not as well as the last time you spoke with her, but she's not at her worst, either."
The statement brought out a question from Reid. "That's something I'm worried about, in fact. If she's relapsing, are you expecting her to just regress to her previous baseline? Or might it be worse?"
Dr. Norman's lips thinned, making Reid anxious about his reply.
"We don't know yet. As you are aware, many of the active symptoms of schizophrenia….the delusions, the hallucinations…tend to diminish with age, even though the patients don't become more socially functional. However, just recently, there have been a few case reports about patients on the same medication, describing deterioration beyond the baseline, even in older patients. Not many, mind you. But it's happened."
Reid's heart quickened. Being locked away from her precious mental store of information hadn't been the most devastating of Diana's symptoms. The delusional paranoia had been far, far worse to experience….and to witness. He'd thought the worst of that was behind them. Now, he was learning, it might not be.
Please, God, if You're even out there…don't do this to her again. What did she ever do to You?!
His response to Dr. Norman was much less passionate. "Let's hope not, for Mom's sake."
"For all of our sakes, Dr. Reid. I know how painful this must be for you as well."
Reid's lips molded to a small, sad, smile, so easily that Dr. Norman suspected it must be put to frequent use. His suspicion was confirmed when Reid replied to him.
"I'm used to pain, Dr. Norman. I just don't wish it on anyone else. Especially not my mother." Pushing his shoulders back, Reid added, "Let's go and see her."
He'd spent a nearly sleepless night lying on the sofa bed in his mother's room.
She'd been surprised to see him, even after their several phone calls planning his visit. Reid recognized the forgetfulness as a familiar trait from his childhood, and mourned its reappearance. For the past year or more, it had been fading, and he'd been so hopeful.
But that's not what had kept him up all night. What had kept him up was a consuming guilt.
Over the course of the past year or so, the prospect of his mother's improving mental status had raised some very significant issues for Reid. If she was no longer mentally incompetent, if she was no longer eligible to be conserved, then he was no longer positioned to make decisions for her. True, they'd have to go back to court and change things up legally. But that was the simple thing. The enormously more complex thing was the letting go. The trusting in her judgment.
As he'd read, and as his discussions with Dr. Norman had confirmed, Diana's improvement wouldn't bring her all the way back to what was socially, or psychiatrically, considered to be 'normal'. There would be a paradoxically brittle flatness to her personality. She wouldn't interact in a typical way, and she might overreact, in either direction, without warning. But she would be able to physically care for herself, and see to the daily activities of her life.
Which meant she might no longer require Bennington. And, if she wanted to leave, the decision would be up to her. But, although she might legally be considered capable, Reid knew that she really wasn't ready to live alone. That day would never come.
She'd forget to eat, or to take her meds. And then what would become of her?
He couldn't see her in any kind of half-way house. If she refused to stay at Bennington, then the only real alternative, he knew, was him. She would have to move in with him.
The first time the thought had come to him, he'd cringed, physically. As a child, he'd been left with no choice about his living arrangement. As an adult, he not only had a choice...he craved that choice, even if life circumstance was determined to remove it from him once again.
He had a home, such as it was. And a lifestyle, which he enjoyed, despite the apparent loneliness of it. To become the safe harbor for his mother, he would have to sacrifice all of it.
And I'm too damn selfish. I have a life now, and a job that's important, and friends. Having her live with me would change everything.
He didn't even see how he could keep his position with the BAU. There was too much travel involved, and she couldn't be left alone for those long stretches of time.
God help me, it would be easier if she never got well enough to leave.
Those were the thoughts that had kept him up all night. That his mother might need him, not in the form of a letter or a phone call…but that she might need him, his presence, his hospitality. And that he would even consider refusing her.
Until Dr. Norman had called him about the relapse, Reid had done his best to ignore the dilemma. Every time it had come to mind, he'd grabbed a book, or solved a puzzle, or done more research on a case.
Because I knew that, if I ever, actually, consciously thought about it, I would have to face the fact of what a bastard I've become. Maybe my father gave me something, after all.
So he laid on the bed, looking over at the sleeping form of his mother, taking note of the hint of a scowl on her face. Her illness caused her to wear that scowl so frequently that it seemed to be etched on her countenance, even in the depths of slumber.
Reid was given a brief reprieve from his self-recrimination when the sound of a short vibration came from the floor next to him. He reached down and lifted his phone, noting the time before he opened it. Six a.m. Nine o'clock, in DC. The text was from JJ.
HOW'S IT GOING? DID YOU SAY 'HI' TO YOUR MOM FOR ME?
As she'd requested, when he was first planning the trip. He'd only really talked about his mother's condition with her, and then with Hotch, when he'd asked to take leave. He'd assumed they would fill in the others.
Reid had tried to oblige the request, but he'd run into a snag. He'd had to remind his mother of who JJ was, when he'd passed along his friend's greeting.
"You remember her, Mom. She's Henry's mother. Michael's now, too."
"Oh, yes, of course," Diana had said. Then added, after a pause, "Who is Henry?"
Reid didn't have it in him to discuss what was going on, even with JJ. And it certainly wouldn't fit into a text message.
GOING OKAY. MOM SAYS 'HI', TOO.
