The irrationality of a thing is not an argument against it's existence, rather, a condition of it. ~ Friedrich Nietzsche
February 17, 2012
Spencer Reid sat in one of the weird plastic chairs characteristic of an exam room, tapping his foot in the office of Dr. Nan Perry. Leah Prentiss-Reid, his wife and the twenty-six year old daughter of Emily Prentiss, a surrogate daughter to Emily's boyfriend, unit chief Aaron Hotchner, sat on the exam table, filling out a form. She put it aside after only a moment, finished.
"Spencer, everything is going to be okay." She promised. "It's just an ultrasound."
"What if there's more than one?" He hated how childish and afraid he sounded.
"There will be, we know that. I'm getting too big too quickly for there not to be."
He sighed. "How many, do you think?"
His ebony-haired spouse opened her mouth to answer when a technician stepped into the room.
"Are you ready?" She asked cheerfully.
It was put on, Spencer could tell. Knowing that they were having multiples had apparently worried the doctors, too. Should he be glad that there was someone else in his boat? Not when it was the people he had entrusted the lives of his wife and unborn children to.
Leah nodded and laid back and the ultrasound began. The air thickened with tension as the tech maneuvered the wand, silently mouthing numbers, counting the little tadpole-looking things on the screen.
Spencer closed his eyes after "four" as a headache exploded behind his eyes.
"Seven." Leah whispered, whether from awe, shock, or pure fear Spencer wasn't sure.
Septuplets! He could barely conceive what that meant. It was possible, he knew that. There had been five sets of surviving septuplets at least, that he could think of off the top of his head. But here, him, his family, his wife, in this situation?
Not good. To his knowledge only Derek Morgan and his mother and sisters knew that he and Leah were even married.
And then the ultrasound was over, the tech gave them directions to Dr. Perry's office, and they were there, sitting across from her and Dr. Perry's partner, Leah's biological father, Dr. John Cooley.
"So," Dr, Perry said after exchanging meaningless greetings. "I have some things here for you from Planned Parenthood-"
Oh, no. Spencer and Leah had had this discussion long before they came here. They both believed that life began at conception. The doctor would push this though, he knew.
"No." Leah cut Dr. Perry off.
"Leah," Dr. Cooley said quietly. "Be reasonable. This is the best way, the healthiest way."
"Is it healthy for the babies that get ripped apart?" Spencer spoke up sharply.
"It's not as if we're asking you to get rid of all the fetuses. You'll still have children, just not seven of them. It'll be so much easier this way, for all concerned."
Leah switched to Italian, her glare hard enough to cut a diamond. "Is that what you told Mom?"
Dr. Cooley blinked, before saying softly, "Honey, daughter, if you go through with this, you could die. It could kill you and the fetuses."
He wouldn't refer to them as babies, Spencer noticed.
"And if I abort any, I kill them. I'm around murder every day. I refuse to commit it."
"Keep this just in case." Dr. Perry slid the packet toward Spencer. He took it. They talked for a long while, and then Spencer and Leah left.
Walking out the door of the hospital, Spencer dangled the Planned Parenthood packet over the first trashcan he came to, dropping it in.
This was their family and this was their decision.
You can call me crazy if you want, but that's okay. Please review. Thanks! I'm closing my poll by the way. Next I'm going to do a one-shot called "Bella Notte". Again, I warn you, you may not get it until April 20th or later. But it's in the works!