Of Genius and Gentility
Chapter 3
Rossi knew, even before he spoke with her, that Erin Strauss would stand the team down. Both injured men needed to heal, and Reid needed physical therapy. The kind of therapy Aaron Hotchner needed, Rossi knew, didn't exist. But he also knew that his old friend would be put through as many screening, and readiness, and fit-for-duty tests as the FBI could conjure.
"He's done, David. He can't come back from this. He was helpless at the hands of this person Foyet. That does something to a man's ego."
Part of Rossi thought she was right. But a larger part saw the blatant ambition behind her words. To her credit, she was truly horrified at what had been done to Hotch. But she was also realizing an opportunity to eliminate the competition in a contest that only she perceived to be taking place.
What happened to that girl I came up the ranks with? Where did you go, my dear friend?
"He has to come back, Erin. He can't let Foyet be the final chapter to his career."
Nor his family.
It wasn't something she would be able to force. And Rossi knew Hotch would pass all of the tests. He'd know exactly what to say, having written so many of the questions. So time would have to tell, and they all settled into as much of a routine as they could muster, two men down.
With Reid out, the paper case pile was slow to diminish in size, and it became a daily visual reminder of their missing genius. So did the fact that there was always coffee in the pot when he went to fill his cup. And it was quiet.
He'd spent most of the days following the incidents at the hospital with Hotch. On the surface, he joined the wounded man in strategizing how to find and deal with Foyet. Beneath, he strategized alone, how to help heal the most devastating wounds Aaron Hotchner bore, the ones that were visible to only a trusted friend.
So he hadn't managed to visit Reid before the young man was discharged from another hospital. But he'd diligently kept track of his progress, through the others.
"I heard you and Morgan took Reid home yesterday. Is he settled in okay?"
JJ sighed. "As best he can be, I guess. I wanted him to come home with me, but he wouldn't. Said he didn't want to scare Henry."
Rossi didn't understand. "How would he scare Henry?"
"Well, he said it was because he didn't want Henry to see the bandages, or the brace, or the crutches."
"But you think it's something else?"
She laid down the file of folders she'd been carrying.
"I think there's probably some truth to it. I told Henry that his Uncle Spence had an accident, and had a big boo-boo. But, Spence is right, Henry is probably just picturing a big bandaid. The real thing might be a little much for him. But, really, I think he doesn't want Henry…..or anyone, for that matter….to see him in pain."
"Well, a little pill or two should take care of that, shouldn't it? He might be loopy, but he won't be in pain. Tell him Henry would get a kick of his loopy 'Uncle Spence'."
In that moment, JJ realized that Rossi didn't know. And she blessed Aaron Hotchner for not telling him.
Spence fought long and hard on that. He doesn't need to carry it with him forever.
She was sure Rossi had been briefed on each of the agents, when he'd rejoined the BAU. But apparently Hotch hadn't considered Reid's addiction to be brief-worthy, and she agreed with him.
So she answered Rossi in the most honest, least revealing, way she could.
"Spence can't take narcotics. He gets some relief from ibuprofen, but he still has a fair amount of pain."
Given what he knew of Spencer Reid, Rossi just assumed she meant the young man was allergic. It never occurred to him that there might be another reason.
"Oh. Well, then. I guess I can understand his concern about being around Henry."
I sure wouldn't want to be around a toddler. Not when I'm in pain. I don't even like it when I'm healthy!
JJ reached for her folders. "We're going to take turns bringing him some food. I've got him tonight, and then Garcia, and Emily. Morgan will bring him to his follow-up appointment, and then we'll figure out how to get him back and forth to PT."
"Hmm. Maybe I can take him out to dinner, when he's ready. Give him a change of scenery."
She smiled. "Spence would like that. He's got all sorts of ideas about the book."
He joined her. "Ah, the book. Yes, I think it's time we got started on our little project."
After almost three weeks, and two declined offers, Reid finally agreed to meet Rossi for dinner. The senior agent offered to pick him up, but Reid declined that, as well.
"I'll just get a cab, and meet you at the restaurant."
"Well…..okay, if you're sure."
"I'm sure."
Still, Rossi was surprised when he arrived to one of his favorite little Italian spots, to find Reid already seated, and half way through a glass of water.
"Am I late?"
"What? No. No, I just wasn't quite sure how long it would take. You know, with the cab. Traffic."
Rossi nodded, and made a comment about the vagaries of driving in and around DC. But his eyes took in the crutches, and the bulky brace surrounding Reid's knee. He motioned toward it.
"That's a pretty intimidating piece of machinery."
"I'm getting used to it."
"Do you have to wear it all the time? Even when you sleep?"
Reid shrugged. "Now that the stitches are out, I get to take it off for bathing."
Before Rossi could react to that, their waiter arrived to the table. Already uncomfortable with the attention, Reid took advantage of the time it took to place their orders, and changed the subject.
"How's Hotch?"
Rossi was too experienced not to know when he was being manipulated. But he also heard the genuine concern in his companion's voice. He knew how much Reid looked up to their unit chief, and how shaken he must have been to learn what Foyet had done to him. Of the team, Reid alone had not seen nor spoken with Hotch since that fateful day.
"He's coming along. He thinks he'll be back in another two weeks, give or take."
Reid heard the undercurrent.
"You don't think he'll be ready?"
As much as he respected each member of the team, Rossi was also aware that they worked in a hierarchy. And it wouldn't do to discuss his reservations with someone who reported to the object of them.
"Work is the best therapy for him. He'll be fine."
Reid wasn't quite ready to let it go.
"I was worried about him. That day, after Emily told me what had happened… I just couldn't picture him getting attacked like that. I mean….. it was Hotch."
Rossi smiled, and hoped to be held in that same kind of esteem one day.
"Yes, it was Hotch. Which is why he survived it, and why he'll get past it."
"But….what about Haley, and Jack? He must be going crazy, not knowing where they are."
Rossi assured him. "He's focused. He'll get the job done, and we'll help him. And then, they'll be able to come home."
It was Rossi's turn to change the subect. "So, are you ready to get started on our little project?"
Reid immediately lit up. "Yes! I've been thinking about it, and I think maybe I know how I can help."
"Okay, I'll bite. How?"
Since I'm one hundred percent sure you won't be bringing the voice of youth to it.
"Well, as you know, I have an eidetic memory. I can easily review our case records, and check the story for accuracy."
"You don't think my stories are accurate?"
Well, that didn't take long, thought Reid. I've already put my foot in my mouth.
"Sorry. No, it's just…..isn't it important to be precise?"
The arrival of their food interrupted the conversation briefly. Rossi was pleased to see Reid tuck heartily into his meal. He motioned with his fork.
"Pretty good, right? Mario ….the chef/owner….we go back quite a ways. He makes his own pasta. And his sauce is delicioso."
"Mmmph. Uh-huh." Diana Reid had taught her son never to speak with his mouth full. Which meant another eight minutes of silence.
When they'd had their fill, each leaned back and enjoyed the carbohydrate rush. Then Rossi brought them back to business.
"So…you think you can help by making sure I'm accurate."
"Well…." Reading Rossi's tone, and not so sure of his response. "Unless you want me to do something else."
Rossi studied his teammate for a moment, and then issued an order.
"Tell me a story."
"What?"
"Tell me a story. The only way I'm going to know what your storytelling voice is like is to hear you tell a story."
Obviously flustered, Reid could only protest.
"But I don't know any stories!"
That sent Rossi's brows skyward. "You don't know any stories. Aren't you the guy who has a quote for every occasion? The one who can't resist sharing any little factoid that comes to mind?"
"But that's just the point! They're facts, not stories. JJ says I'm good with telling her the plot of a story, but I don't always get the point."
Rossi wasn't buying it. "The point is whatever you think it is. As long as you have a point of view, you have a point."
"But…"
Rossi's upraised palm stopped him.
"Tell me a story. Tell me about something that happened when you first joined the BAU. Something from when Gideon brought you in."
"But…"
"You were there, Spencer. Just tell me what happened."
So Reid dug deep, and pulled out a memory of one of those early cases. After their waiter brought them two cups of espresso, he began.
"Well….there was this case we had in Seattle. It was the first case that Gideon came back for, after Boston."
"I think I remember hearing about this one. I always thought it must have been a pretty enticing case, to bring him back early."
"It was. Mostly because we ended up having two unsubs. But that's not why I remember it."
Intrigued, Rossi took the bait. "Why, then?"
"I remember it because it was the first time I realized that it wasn't enough to know about how people act. If you really want to figure things out, you have to put yourself in their shoes."
It was something Rossi had noticed about Reid, often to his consternation. The young man was sometimes eerily good at identifying with the unsub.
And now, maybe I'm about to find out why.
No such luck. The lesson, in the end, had been pedestrian, even if it had also been impactful.
"You put yourself in the unsub's shoes?"
"Well, technically, I put myself into his routine. We needed to get into his laptop, but it was set up to erase the hard drive if we used the wrong password. Morgan and I had already searched the entire house and the only remotely interesting thing we found was this huge collection of music, with only a single empty CD case. And I realized…."
"That he must have been listening to it."
"Exactly!" Enthused that Rossi had figured it out, too. "It was in his laptop! And it gave us the password, which gave us his location, and…."
"And you got to have a happy ending. Relatively speaking, of course."
In their business, it was always someone's unhappy ending that got them involved in the first place.
Reid nodded. "Gideon was shot, but it wasn't serious. And we saved the victim. The last victim, anyway. But the reason I remember it so well is that it was the first time I'd helped to solve a case by processing information, and not just making sure we had all the facts."
Rossi's expression told Reid he thought it an odd thing to say. And then his words confirmed it.
"Isn't it all about process, the work we do? Don't we always have to get into the mind of the unsub?"
"That's what I learned. But, when I first came to the BAU, Gideon told me he needed me for what my brain could remember. So I just provided facts, whenever it seemed like facts would be helpful. I know it sounds crazy, but I was kind of used to it. I was always the freak who could recite the encyclopedia to someone. No one ever really wanted to know what I thought about it."
Rossi took several sips of his coffee before responding, trying to untangle the all-too-familiar web of conflicting thoughts and emotions Reid's words had brought rushing back.
"Are you saying Gideon didn't actually recruit you as an agent? That you were brought on as a resource?"
Trying to keep the outrage from his voice. Jason Gideon had been many things to David Rossi, back in the day. Colleague, friend, co-conspirator. But he'd also been Rossi's greatest challenge. Hunting serial killers tended to bring out either the best, or the worst, in a person. Sometimes both, at once. Rossi had seen both in Gideon. His single-mindedness had been one of the things that made him good at the job. But it had also meant he was as likely to trod right over a colleague as he was to help him up. To use him, and then discard him. That he would have done this to a young innocent….a kid, like Stephen….. was reprehensible.
Reid could see something in Rossi's face, but he couldn't quite make it out before a mask of civility replaced it.
And maybe he was having trouble hiding his own conflict over the answer to the question. But, he reasoned, if they were going to work together, he was going to have to be honest with Rossi.
"At first, maybe. Yes. But he taught me on the job. Once I got here, he started to teach me everything about profiling. He helped me."
Inexplicably driven to defend the mentor who'd abandoned him.
Rossi could see that his question had upset Reid in some way, and backed off.
Best to let him just tell his story.
"So, you learned about applying the information inside your head. That's what that first case taught you?"
"Well, yes. That…..and that sometimes you have to take chances. Like… I could have been wrong about the password for that laptop. If I had been, we wouldn't have been able to find that last victim….well, and she probably wouldn't have been the last, I guess. He would have killed again. But we went with it, Morgan and I…and it paid off."
"A calculated risk."
"Exactly. But..," revisiting the memory in full. "….. I think I could have recited the odds of us being correct with much more certainty than I had watching Morgan hit 'enter'."
"He believed in you."
The surprise on Reid's face told Rossi that the idea had never occurred to the young man.
He was right. Across the table, Rossi's words resonated with Reid. When he'd first followed Gideon to the BAU, Derek Morgan had been an unknown, a question mark. A large, intimidating, question mark, openly vocal about his annoyance with Gideon's new protégé. But Rossi was right. Morgan may have rolled his eyes every time Reid opened his mouth for a recitation of factoids, but, when it counted, he'd shown confidence in his younger colleague. Maybe even before Gideon had.
"I….I guess he did." Smiling to himself. They'd come a long way since then, he and Morgan.
Rossi nodded. Then he pushed back his chair.
"Well, it's a school night for me. When do you think you'll be back to work?"
Noticing that Reid hadn't replicated his movement. The younger man didn't look to be leaving any time soon.
"I'm ready. I can come back any time."
Rossi gave him an 'oh, really' look. "Maybe I should have asked when your doctor thinks you can come back to work."
"Oh. Two weeks." Unable to keep the disappointment from his voice.
Rossi took pity. "Tell you what. How about you come in next week, and you can help Morgan and Prentiss work through that pile of paper cases. I think they can barely see each other over it, it's so tall."
The younger man brightened. "Really? Yeah, great! Or I can come in tomorrow and get started."
Rossi laughed. "Really. But not until next week. And no field work until you're officially cleared. Listen to your doctors, Spencer. They're trying to help you."
Rossi recognized a bad patient when he saw one. The sight had greeted him in the mirror often enough. He also recognized the posture of someone not getting ready to leave the restaurant.
"Aren't you coming?"
Reid tried to wave him off. "It takes me a little bit to get going. I don't want to hold you up."
Curious now, Rossi held his ground. "I'm not in that big of a hurry. I'll wait, and help you get your cab. Unless you'll agree to let me drop you off."
Reid hurried to respond. "No need. I'm good."
Seeing that Rossi wasn't about to leave without him, Reid had no choice but to begin the tedious process. Rossi watched as the younger man slid awkwardly to the end of the booth, and reached for his crutches. He seemed to have particular difficulty….and, judging from his facial expression, considerable pain…. getting his leg to turn the corner of the bench, and then pulling himself upright.
The whole process took a full five minutes. Watching, Rossi realized why Reid had arrived to the restaurant so early.
He didn't want me to see this. He didn't want me to see him impaired. Well, too late, Kid. Now I'm going to make you let me bring you home.
He simply wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. As they exited the restaurant, Rossi put himself between Reid and the curb, making it impossible for him to hail a cab. With Reid still somewhat tentative on the crutches, they moved slowly as Rossi escorted the young man to his car, parked in the lot.
"See? Isn't it easier to get into an SUV with that contraption than it is to get into a yellow cab?"
"I guess."
"Kid, when somebody does something nice for you, you're not supposed to be mad at them about it."
"Sorry." Then, reminding himself that he was being honest with Rossi, he added, "I guess I just don't like to look weak."
Rossi looked over at his passenger. "You took a bullet in the process of saving someone's life. That injury is a badge of honor, not a sign of weakness."
Reid was silent after that, taking it in, watching the city streets go by. When they arrived outside his apartment building, he did his best to be gracious.
"Thanks, Rossi. For dinner….and for the ride."
The older man smiled. "You're welcome. We'll do this again, soon. It takes a lot of time to put a book together."
Not to mention how long it takes to build up an ego.
Reid was enthused once again. "Any time. I can even try to write down some of what I remember, if you want."
Rossi snorted. "Wouldn't that be…'everything'?"
"Oh. Yeah. Okay, I won't. Thanks again."
Rossi leaned over the seat to call out the window.
"The elevator working in your place?"
"Huh….oh, yeah. It's fine."
"Okay then. The BAU, next week."
"Right. Good night, Rossi."
The senior profiler pulled away from the curb, looking at the young man in his rear view mirror. At about Reid's age, he'd lived in one of the apartments in this same neighborhood. He knew they were all walk-ups.
He sighed as he thought to himself.
I probably need to call my editor. I don't know if this is going to help me get a book done or not. But I think I may have found a much more worthy project.
