A/N: This was more popular than I thought it would be, so I decided to start working on the next chapter as soon as I could!
Aaron Hotchner stood in front of the Reid house. Skeptically, he walked up the porch steps and rung the doorbell. He waited but to no avail. He checked his watch. It was 9 AM, the older Reid was probably already at work and Hotch would just have to visit later. He turned to descend down the stars when he heard a loud cracking noise. He paused slightly expecting to hear the rustling of a branch after it fell off the tree. Instead he heard incoherent grunting and a louder cracking, which he could discern all too well as the sound of a belt cracking. He walked down the steps quickly and drew his gun. Inching along the side of the house, he quietly opened the fence leading to the backyard. The sounds intensified as Hotch made his way into the yard, and he could hear the belt coming down over the sound of soft whimpering. He hid behind an unkempt shrub, listening momentarily. Suddenly, it was quiet. Hotch felt uneasy and he peered out from the bush. A disheveled man in an ill-fitting work suit was climbing over a fence. Cursing to himself, Hotch ran out and aimed his gun. "Freeze, William Reid, FBI," he shouted.
William continued to run and Hotch fired two rounds, missing each time before seeking out the source of the moaning. He scanned the lawn, and Hotch's eyes widened. Nothing could have prepared him from what was in the other corner of that yard. A small boy was huddled against the fence sitting on the rocks, in his own mess. The boy's breathing was labored and bruises covered every visible part of his body. Aaron was taken aback, and he mentally tallied the amount of broken bones and abrasions, but he couldn't quite count them all. His eyes traveled up the boy's body and rested on the rusty collar fashioned around his neck. He could feel the heat in his gut reach a boiling point. The boy's face was also marred with an innumerable amounts of abrasions. Chapped, bleeding lips drew in shaking rattling breaths, and small knees were pulled up towards the youngster's chest. Hotch stretched out his hand and the boy, much to his surprise took it. "H-help me," he whispered pitifully.
Hotch could feel his throat catch as the small boy weakly squeezed his hands. Situating himself next to the boy, Hotch dialed 911. "Yes. I'm agent Aaron Hotchner with the FBI. I am at 6330 Buzz Aldrin Drive. I need a medic immediately. There's a young boy here who's badly hurt. No, I'm not his father. Thank you. Quickly, please."
He looked over at the small boy sadly. This boy's father was scum, he thought viciously. If Spencer were my son, he stopped himself, mentally slowing his thoughts. Son? Are you even ready for a son? The boy flinched involuntarily as a strong wind whipped through the air. Aaron outstretched his hand to brush hair out of the boy's face, but Spencer whimpered pitifully and weakly batted away the hand. Hotch sat there, helpless. He decided he should just talk to the boy, keep him company. After what seemed like forever, the piercing siren filled the air. "Spencer, Spencer, the ambulance is here. You're going to be okay," he whispered, trying to assure both Spencer and himself.
Stepping back, he let the medics do their job. Hands clasped in front of them, Aaron, for the first time in years, found himself without words and without answers. Dear God, Allah, Buddah, Jesus, whoever's up there. Please don't let this boy die. Please don't let him die. I promised him he'd be okay. Please let him be okay."
Hotch directed one of the EMT's over to the young boy in the yard. The first man quickly called over his colleagues, who's faces all dropped as they saw the slight figure chained to the rusting fence. Quickly, they begin to delink the chains connecting Spencer to the fence. The first EMT turned to Hotch sadly. "Alright Mr. Hotchner. My name is Mark, can you tell me that little guy's name?"
"His name is Spencer Reid," Hotch said. "I'm not related to him." But I should be.
Mark nodded. "Alright man, well, my colleagues have him in the back of the ambulance. Would you care to ride with us or would you like to meet us at the hospital?"
"I'll ride with you."
Hotch climbed into the back of the ambulance, taking a seat in the far corner. He did his best to stay out of the EMT's ways. Clasping his hands in front of him, he sighed deeply and admonished himself. Come on Aaron, how do you ever expect to lead the BAU if this one 'case' gets to you so badly. He allowed himself to drift into his mind. Sighing, Mark plopped down next to Aaron, wiping sweat off his forehead. "Hey listen man, he's uh, he's not in the best shape. I'm not the doctor, but I've never seen so many cuts and bruises and broken bones on one little kid. He seems super dehydrated and malnourished. Do you know how old he is? That chain in his neck, I can't get it out now without cutting open a lot of scabs. We delinked as much as we can but the doctor is going to need to look at that closer."
Aaron snapped out of his reverie. "Uh, he uh, he was supposed to be born back in 2008. In October. But he doesn't look seven years old at all. He's uh," Hotch had to clear the sudden catch in his throat. "He's so small."
Mark nodded and roughly slapped Hotch on the back. "We'll do our best," he promised solemnly, standing up to go attend to the boy.
After another five-minute drive, they pulled into the bay. Hotch stepped out of the vehicle and they wheeled the stretcher into the hospital. "We need a doctor as soon as possible," Mark told one of the nurses. "Several fractures, multiple breaks, contusions and lacerations covering this kid's body. I think he's broken some of his ribs which is why he can't breathe all too well and he's well, got a chain literally stuck inside his neck," he explained quickly, speed walking Spencer into an adjoining room.
The nurse nodded grimly and stepped away, nodding at her colleague to begin triage. A younger, brunette lady with her hair pulled away from her face and a kind smile stepped into Spencer's room. Hotch took a seat next to the boy. "Are you the dad?" the nurse asked brusquely, eyeing Hotch suspiciously.
Hotch grimaced. It seemed like a lot of people were asking him that question today. And after mulling it over on the ride to the hospital, he wasn't sure if being Spencer's dad would be a bad thing- someone needed to do the job justice. He pulled out his badge. "No. I'm Agent Aaron Hotchner with the FBI. I'm the one who found the b- Spencer," he said.
She nodded slowly. Hotch turned to look at Reid, who was seemingly awake but very overwhelmed. The hospital bed dwarfed his tiny frame and the white sheets gave a stark contrast against the dark offal odor of the boy's skin. He whined softly as she moved closer to him. She pulled up the other chair, not to close, but close enough so he could hear her. "Hi Spencer, I'm Addie. I'm going to be one of the nurses that help you get better."
Spencer didn't say anything, but he really didn't want to be patronized, so he turned his aching head to look at her. One of his eyes was swollen shut and the other was dangerously close. "I'm not going to have you talk honey because we think some of your ribs are broken. We're going to get you changed into a gown and the doctor will be in shortly," she said gently, standing up and leaving quietly.
Her presence was closely followed by a tall woman with red hair dressed very smartly in a skirt, blouse, and white coat. "Hi Spencer. I'm the doctor on call, Dr. Benson. Agent, there's a police officer outside waiting for you."
Hotch nodded curtly and stood up to leave, but Spencer tugged on his hand. "Stay," he whispered.
Hotch looked over at the doctor. "Can I stay until you complete your examination?" he asked.
Dr. Benson glanced at the little boy who was looking at the FBI agent pleadingly. She nodded. "Can you sit up for me please honey?" she asked Spencer gently.
Spencer complied and the doctor sat on the edge of the bed gently. "I'm going to listen to your lungs and do a general examination, okay?"
Spencer didn't respond. She placed her stethoscope on his back and listened attentively. She looked over his uncovered body and frowned. "Honey can I take off your robe?" she asked.
Spencer shook his head violently. "Okay, okay. Well. First we obviously have to do surgery to get that chain out of you. But then I'll have to do some x-rays and run some tests, okay?"
Illogical rage bubbled in Spencer. Yeah give me a full body x-ray lady. I've got at least four broken bones as well as poorly healed broken bones. I'm broken all over. I'm also pretty sure I have walking pneumonia in the middle of May but oh well.
Before Reid could respond, the surgeon walked into the room. "Hi Spencer, I'm Dr. Watson," the doctor greeted. "We're going to have to get that chain off of you first thing buddy. My friend will help you take a nap and we'll have that off of you in no time," she smiled warmly at Spencer.
Spencer's glared bitterly. What kind of anesthetic? Am I getting premedication beforehand? I'd love to know what they plan on giving me he thought. Don't say anything though, you know what happens when you correct an adult, he cautioned himself before inhaling sharply and nodding.
Dr. Watson glanced at Hotch. "I think it would be better if you were more forthcoming," Hotch advised, eyeing the sulking boy thoughtfully.
Confused for a moment, Dr. Watson shook her head slightly before turning to Spencer. "We were going to give you a premedication, called Dexmedetomidine which is an analgesic that'll help you feel calm. Then, we were going to do a general anesthetic once we were in the operating room. From there we were going to inject a local anesthetic around your neck." She finished, doubting that the boy understood a word she said.
Spencer nodded gratefully at both Hotch and the doctor. "I'm okay with that," he said softly. He then turned to Hotch sitting by his bedside. "Will you be there?" he asked.
"I think that would be okay," Dr. Watson smiled warmly. She could tell the FBI agent would be the closest person the patient would open up to, and she was willing to make that exception. "While Agent Hotchner can't be in the operating room, he can watch from the observatory. If that's what Agent Hotchner wants to do," she added, positive the man wouldn't say no.
Hotch could tell he wasn't trying to get his hopes up, but he could hear the faint fear in the boy's voice. How could he let this boy down like so many other before him? "Of course buddy," he said, reaching out his hand tentatively.
To his surprise, Reid grasped a couple of his fingers and squeezed weakly. "Thank you agent," he said softly.
Dr. Watson smiled warmly. "Alright Spencer, Agent Hotchner needs to talk with the police for a moment, but I promise you right before you take your nap he'll be right back here with you."
Hotch nodded slightly at the doctor and met the officer in the hall. The police officer closed the door before turning to Hotch. "I'm detective Barnett Harding. Can you tell me what happened agent?"
Hotch nodded. "I'm agent Aaron Hotchner of the FBI. I was visiting William Reid following a tip that there's suspicious circumstances surrounding the disappearance of Spencer Reid and Diana Reid," he reluctantly admitted.
The officer nodded. "Well, uh, I did hear from social services that Spencer was taken out of school last fall. We did multiple home checks, but both William and his son insisted he switched to a homeschooling based system. They never filed the paperwork though. Diana, was committed to Bennington Sanitarium back in 2014."
Hotch nodded slightly. "I did do a background check on William but could not conduct a full scale investigation. I heard a large disturbance from the backyard which gave me reasonable suspicion that someone was in great distress. I followed protocol, but when I tried to apprehend Reid, he fled. I had two choices: chase after him, or tend to the severely wounded boy I found in this yard," Hotch explained. "He was whipping the boy with the buckle end of the belt, which I left at the crime scene."
The officer nodded. "Well, we will conduct a full forensic investigation at the crime scene, but from the amount of damage done, when we find Reid, we will be filing charges for gross child neglect and abuse.
Hotch nodded, relieved. "Do you know if Spencer has any family he'll go to?" he asked.
Barnett shook his head sadly. "No, the Reid family is a pretty prominent family in the neighborhood, but it's just the three of them. It looks like Spencer would go into the foster care system."
Hotch nodded sadly. "I understand officer, thank you," he said solemnly.
Barnett shook Hotch's hand. "It seems like you have quite an interest in the kid."
Hotch nodded. "I do. I…I might want to adopt him myself."
The officer looked taken aback, but smiled before walking away. Hotch turned back to the triage room, mind buzzing. Don't pretend like that wasn't one of the first things that came to your mind when you saw that poor boy lying outside left to the elements. This is no way to rationalize this though. You don't just adopt a child because there's no reason not to. He silently quelled the argument in his brain before reentering the triage room. The anesthesiologist had made his way into the room and was preparing the premedication. "I'm back buddy," he said gently, outstretching his hand again for Spencer to hold.
Spencer nodded and took the outstretched hand. The anesthesiologist walked around to his other side. "Okay Spencer, I'm putting the medication in your IV right now. You should get sleepy in-"
"Fifteen to thirty minutes," the boy murmured, eyes fluttering shut.
The anesthesiologist smiled and finished. Before leaving the room he turned to Hotch, "That's a smart strong kid right there. He really likes you too."
Hotch could only smile in return. He nodded the anesthesiologist out before turning his attention to Spencer. He readjusted himself, tentatively reaching for Spencer's forehead. When Spencer didn't flinch away, Hotch brushed his chestnut brown hair off his face and slowly stroked the boy's face. Hotch looked down at the small boy with fondness and a sad bitterness. This boy shouldn't go to a foster home, he thought to himself in desperation. And I wouldn't trust a random distant relative to take him away. He deserves a family that will love him. Suddenly, Hotch's phone started buzzing, bringing him out of his trance. He quickly slipped his hand out of Reid's and walked into the hallway. "Hi Dave, what's going on?"
"Aaron, the team caught a case in Minnesota. We fly out in thirty. Would you like me to keep you in the loop."
"That'd be fantastic Dave. Thank you for covering, I'll let you know as soon as I'm available to come back."
When he looked back into the room, Spencer was sound asleep and the doctor was preparing to wheel him into the operating room. A nurse showed him into the observation room and he thanked her. Breathing deeply, he watched intently as the doctor began the arduous task of cutting the chains off Spencer's neck. It was tedious and from Hotch could see, the wounds bled like a stuck pig. His heart ached for the boy lying on the table. The procedure seemed fairly repetitive. Cut, blot, remove link, sterilize, and stitch. But an hour in, Hotch could tell something was wrong. The doctor quickly set down his scalpel. People crowded around the gurney and Hotch panicked immediately. He pressed his face closer to the glass.
Dr. Watson was focusing deeply on the chain embedded in the little boy. Piece by piece, she was determined to get it removed with as little damage as she could possibly inflict. Suddenly, he began seizing. She quickly dropped the scalpel and frantically checked his airways. "His tongue is occluding his airway and he's in v-fib," she said, turning to her colleague who was preparing the defibrillator.
A/N: And here's chapter two guys (: I rewrote this chapter as well to better fit the way I see this story going