Essential Listening: La Da Dee, by Cody Simpson

0o0

The family, not unexpectedly, had not taken the news that the person they'd arrested at the funeral had nothing to do with their son's abduction particularly well. According to JJ there had been anger and recriminations, and Amy Bridges' quiet, disturbed question about just how many predators there were out there.

It was always hard when a profile fell through – but when a child was missing and the parents of that child had gone along with something they didn't want to do based on that profile, it was particularly bitter.

All this had been compounded when the unsub had rung the family again, taunting them and the FBI for taking the wrong guy away. Listening back to the recording with the rest of the team, Grace could well imagine why it would have rattled them enough for Amy Bridges to interrupt, even if it gave the unsub what they so obviously wanted.

Just as the recording finished, Craig and Amy Bridges came in from the kitchen, looking very tense indeed.

Hotch was on his feet before they'd come two steps into the room. "Would it be possible for us to work in private, for a while?"

Amy Bridges spoke quietly and with certainty. "He was at the funeral. I told you."

"He was at the funeral and you arrested the wrong man," Craig snapped, frustrated.

"I don't think it is a man," said Spencer, suddenly, reviewing the file. "Uh – did you hear the way she described the clothing? She said 'blue shoes, lime green Oxford'. A male wouldn't reference specific details like that."

Morgan frowned. "I think Reid's right. She talked about what the child wanted. How he slept, how she took care of him. She said 'I loved him'."

"A male unsub would have emphasized the competition, not the caregiving," Spencer continued. "He – would have talked about how he's smarter than the FBI, bragged about not being caught."

"Instead," Grace pondered, "he made it all about Mrs Bridges."

"You know, we could have been looking for both men and women," Amy pointed out, as her husband rolled his eyes and turned away.

"The statistics are overwhelming," Rossi told them. "Women abduct new-borns; men take children."

"There was no reason for us to think this was a female," Grace added.

Hotch pulled out his phone and called Garcia; JJ beckoned the Bridges closer. They needed to keep things moving now, not stall again. It didn't look like Craig or Amy was going to leave them alone any time soon, and it was their house, after all. They had shown a great deal of restraint and a fair amount of willingness to help so far, they might prove helpful now. If the family needed to stay, they could; they would probably feel better being a part of this. They joined the huddle around their dining table.

"Garcia?" Hotch asked.

"Right here sir," she said, coming through the speaker.

"Will you run the licence plates the police gave you and find any that might be registered to a woman?" Hotch asked.

"That would be…" They heard the sound of her typing for a few seconds. "Zero."

"How's that possible?" Amy asked.

"The transcript almost reads like she's been institutionalised," Spencer reflected, sitting down.

"You mean, she's crazy," Craig clarified.

"Yeah, she described herself as being locked down, not arrested or put away," Spencer continued, ignoring (or perhaps oblivious to) his tone. "Plus, most mental facilities are very rigid about the amount of phone time they allow per day. I – I think her talking about only having three minutes isn't her rule to us, it's what she's been institutionalised to think of as normal."

"Garcia, can you get records of women released from mental institutions this past month?" Rossi asked. "She most likely has some trauma in her case file. Possibly the death of a child."

"I'm sorry, but I can't do that," Garcia told them, sounding pensive. "To protect patient privilege there's no central database. I could hack each hospital individually, but then most diagnoses are kept separately by the doctors…"

Spencer frowned. "I think I might have a way."

0o0

"Are you sure you want me along?" Grace asked, for the third time since they'd got in the Yuke.

"Yes, or I wouldn't have asked," Spencer told her. "I – I think my mom'll like you. She likes hearing about stuff that happens to the team in my letters, and…"

He trailed off. As soon as the idea of speaking to his mother's doctors had entered his head, the mad desire to introduce Grace to his mom had consumed him. It felt right – like something that just ought to happen. He just wasn't quite sure about how to put that into words without it sounding like he wanted his girlfriend and his mom to meet.

Which, he supposed, he did. He'd just never applied that label to the bizarre, troubling, wonderful, crazy thing he and Grace had.

"I just think you'd get along," he finished, feeling that words were wholly inadequate to express how certain he was.

Grace laughed. "So, no pressure, huh?"

He smiled slightly, and turned into the parking lot of the Bennington Sanatorium. It was a pleasant, older building that he'd liked the genteel, old-world look of when he'd been trying to find somewhere permanent where his mother could be cared for. The grounds were leafy and full of character. He had seen it as a place where his mom could heal.

"You okay?"

He looked at Grace, startled out of his reverie. It was always painful, coming here. Although he knew that this was the best place for his mom he couldn't help feeling a little like he'd failed her.

"Yeah, I just – I don't see her as much as I'd like."

He found Grace's hand on his leg and took it for a moment. Lacing his fingers with hers, he smiled. He loved the way they understood one another so completely – that sometimes neither of them had to speak, when the merest touch could communicate everything they needed to know.

The parking lot was of a kind that needed a ticket, and Spencer went and sorted that out. He found Grace leaning on the bonnet of the car when he came back, her eyes closed and raised to the unforgiving Nevada sun.

"Thanks for bringing me, Spencer," she said, while he stuck the ticket in the windscreen. "I needed to get out of the house."

Frowning slightly, he took a closer look at his friend (lover?). There were dark circles under her eyes, as though she, too, was having trouble sleeping. The case must have been getting to her more than he realised – and more than she was prepared to admit. He took her hand, rubbing his thumb over the delicate part of her wrist.

The contact brought her back to herself and she opened her eyes, surprised to find him so close. She raised an eyebrow, a playful smile growing on her face.

"Cases like these," he began, worrying his lip. "They bring stuff to the front of your mind that you thought you'd dealt with already."

Grace nodded. "Exactly that. I feel like I'm…" she sighed, suddenly looking truly exhausted. "I'm struggling. And I feel stupid about it because I'm a grown woman and an FBI agent, and I should just suck it up."

It summed up how he felt about the case so exactly that he laughed. "I – I don't think it works like that," he offered. "You've been through a lot, it's – it's going to knock you flat some days."

"Yeah, I just wish it would do it when I'm not at work," she chuckled, tiredly. "I know. We all have our battles, and no one can be strong all the time." She narrowed her eyes at him. "This case is getting to you, too."

She didn't ask, for which he was grateful, and he didn't elaborate. He nodded and rested his forehead against hers, closing his eyes. "I'm glad that you're here," he murmured, and was gratified to discover her arms slipping around his waist.

"Likewise." He felt her chuckle and say, "Consummate professionals, the both of us."

He pressed a kiss into her hair. "Totally."

Although he knew they ought to move and get the profile out to the director of Bennington, he felt more peaceful standing here with Grace in the hot parking lot than he had since before they'd left Washington.

Grace looked up, smiling more easily than he had seen in days, and reached up to tuck some of his unruly hair behind his ear. "Thank you," she said.

Spencer kissed her.

He hadn't meant to; he'd meant to try to say that there was nothing he wouldn't do for her, so there was no need to ever thank him. He'd meant to say that her presence alone made him feel lighter and more able to face the darker parts of their lives and work. He'd meant to say her willingness to meet his mom and the way she laughed even when she was sad did complicated things to his heart that he didn't think he'd ever felt before. He'd meant to tell her that he was pretty sure he'd fallen in love with her, and that feeling was never, ever going to go away. He'd even meant to thank her for being there for him in that quiet way she had, even when she was going through hell herself.

But he didn't know how to say any of that, so he kissed her instead.

She seemed to get the message, however, because her hand was around the back of his head, tangled in his hair, and she made no move to pull away at all. When they broke apart, he was delighted to see the slight flush in Grace's cheeks, particularly knowing that he had put it there.

Who would have ever thought he would be making out with a beautiful woman in a parking lot, while they technically bunked off work (even for five, much-needed minutes)? In his home-town, no less, where he'd had the shit kicked out of him for years by successive generations of kids who thought he was a dork. Right outside what he could (at a stretch) describe as his mom's house.

It felt amazing, but…

"I really hope my mom isn't watching this," he mumbled, as the thought occurred to him.

He met Grace's eyes and it immediately set them both to giggling. She kissed him one last time for good measure before they went inside.

Spencer waved at the receptionist – one he recognised from previous visits – and the man signed them in without preamble. He resisted the urge to straighten his shirt while they walked up the stairs.

"You look great, don't worry," said Grace, in an undertone.

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, wondering – as he often did – whether her intrinsic weirdness extended to telepathy. Deciding that he was probably pretty easy to read, he led the way to the recreation room on the second floor where his mom spent most of her time reading or writing.

Spencer spotted her the moment they got through the door, frowning down at a notebook, wearing that pink dressing gown a distant aunt had sent her years before and she'd loved ever since. As always, she looked incredibly fragile to him, lost in the fog of medication, carefully separated from the incredibly incisive part of her own mind that had the unfortunate habit of fragmenting from time to time.

Grace had followed his gaze. "Is that her?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah," said Spencer, trying to speak around the sudden constriction in his throat.

"There's no mistaking your relationship, she looks just like you," Grace remarked. "Same way you look when your head's full of information and you're turning it over. And she's beautiful."

"Yeah," said Spencer, smiling happily. "Yeah, she is."

The receptionist worked fast. Doctor Norman, the director of the hospital was already wandering over, in that strangely fast non-urgent perambulation he had developed over years of tending to people who didn't do well if you startled them. It allowed him to move with some speed, but arrive at a destination utterly unflappable and completely naturally, as if he'd simply strolled there. It was a skill that Spencer – who often fell over his own chair – had always kind of envied. He greeted him warmly.

"Doctor Reid, your mom didn't tell me you were in town," he said, offering his hand to shake.

"She doesn't know I'm here," said Spencer, pleased to see the man. "This is Agent Pearce, one of my colleagues."

"Hi," said Grace, with customary good cheer. She shook Doctor Norman's hand.

"We're working on a case and I actually thought you might be able to help us," said Spencer.

"Of course," said Doctor Norman, surprised.

"Have you heard anything about the recent child murder and second abduction?"

"Yes."

"We think the person responsible's a woman," Grace explained. "She would have been institutionalised, but we believe she may have been released within the last few weeks – just before the first abduction."

Doctor Norman nodded. "What can I do?"

"I'm assuming you have a good working relationship with the administrators of other hospitals?" Spencer asked.

Norman nodded again.

"I know no one can open their files, but if you wouldn't mind just merely giving them the profile, that would be of tremendous help," Spencer told him, handing over the file. "She's delusional, fuelled by grief, very well may have lost a child of her own – probably around the age of five."

"I'll see what I can do," said Norman, heading for the telephone in the little office at one corner of the floor.

Spencer took the opportunity to grab Grace's hand and pull her across the room, both excited and conflicted about the two most important people in his life meeting for the first time. A little anxious, he let go just before they rounded his mom's chair. She could be rather blunt, after all.

Sensing movement, she looked up to find him smiling down at her, and simply stared at him for a moment. Spencer took a seat on the table next to her.

"Spencer!" Diana said at last, pleased to see him. He watched her eyes slide over to Grace and frown.

"This is my friend Grace," said Spencer.

"Hi," said Grace, with a cheery wave.

"Hello," said Diana, slowly – warily.

"We – uh – work together, at the BAU," Spencer explained.

A little of the caution left Diana's face. "You mentioned her in your letters, but I thought I met all your colleagues last time?"

"Oh – uh – yeah. Um, Grace didn't work with us back then."

His mom seemed to accept this, so Grace said, "It's nice to meet you, Mrs Reid."

"And you – you're English?"

"Yes ma'am."

"I studied Old and Middle English literature."

"Yes, Spencer told me," said Grace, with genuine warmth. "My father did, too."

Diana smiled. "It's a wonderful subject."

"Yes ma'am, it is."

"What brought you out here?"

"It – was just time for a change of scene," said Grace, managing not to sound actually evasive. "I'm going to go see if Doctor Norman needs a hand with that profile – give you two a chance to catch up."

Spencer watched her go, a slight smile on his face – a smile that Diana Reid spotted immediately.

"You like that girl."

Spencer turned and stared at her. "Mom! No, I –"

"Don't lie to your mother, Spencer," she said, giving him a pointed look.

"Uh… yeah, alrght," he admitted. "Kinda."

The look intensified somewhat.

"Okay, kind of a lot."

"And she likes you," said Diana, glancing at Grace, who was chatting with Doctor Norman across the room.

"I think she likes me too," Spencer said, horribly aware that he was blushing slightly.

"Well, of course she does, she'd be crazy not to," said his mom, simply. She turned back to Spencer and pointed a warning finger at him. "She hurts you, and she dies."

"Noted," said Spencer, fighting the urge to roll his eyes.

"What are you doing here?" Diana asked.

"I'm – I'm – uh – here for work," he told her. "We're investigating the murder and abduction of two five year old boys."

Diana sighed. "I don't like the idea of you working on things that are so sad."

"I know," said Spencer, feeling awkward.

"You're so thin!"

Spencer looked down. She always said that. "I was gonna – come see you the second we solved the case," he said.

Diana frowned and gave him another penetrating look. "What else is goin' on in there?"

Feeling a little trapped, he attempted to look like he had no idea what she was talking about. "Nothing…"

"Don't lie to your mother, Spencer," she said again. "We know. We feel things."

Spencer gulped.

0o0

Aaron watched the footage Garcia had extracted from the Walter-the-creep's phone hawkishly. He and JJ had jumped at the chance to give the family a second opportunity at identifying their child's abductor. At this point, anything they got would set them in better stead – particularly now that they knew their unsub was a woman.

"Try to remember the moment when you felt someone's eyes on you," he encouraged them, as gently as he could.

Amy Bridges visibly steeled herself, and JJ hit play.

"I don't know, I…" Amy began, uncertain.

"Yes you do," said JJ with such certainty that it refocused both Amy and Craig at once.

As good as JJ said Agent Todd was, they were going to be lost without her while she was on maternity leave.

"At one point you said, 'He's here'," Aaron reminded them as the video continued. "When was that?"

Suddenly, Amy Bridges pointed at the screen, indicating a slim, blonde woman in a black dress. There was really nothing remarkable about her at all. "That's her."

"Garcia?" Aaron asked. "The blonde in the middle, do you have her?"

"Got her," said Garcia.

"Isolate the image and run it through VICAP, see if we get a hit," Aaron instructed, hoping that they would.

"On it."