A.N. Hopefully, this is as long as (and much longer than) you will ever have to wait for a chapter. Had to finish another story (and earn a living) in the interim.

Of Genius and Gentility

Chapter 4

Until he'd seen the kid trying to hide his struggle with the crutches….not to mention the pain that went along with it….Rossi hadn't given all that much thought to Reid's recovery. Not beyond his promise to Hotch to keep the genius mind distracted, anyway. After all, he knew the others had made plans to look in on him, and bring him food. He hadn't offered to be a part of the rotation, reasoning to himself that he had Hotch to look after.

But, ever since the night of their dinner, the plight of the young man had been niggling at the back of Rossi's mind. Not just the injury, and the difficulty getting around. But the fact of him, of how he'd come to be with the BAU, how he'd stayed with the BAU, even after losing his mentor to ….to whatever it was that had taken Gideon.

PTSD? Depression? Or some other thing that had been lurking within him, all those years? God knows, I caught glimpses of it, now and then, whatever it was.

Reid had been brought to the BAU by Gideon.

'Found him in a basket left on the FBI's doorstep'. Isn't that what I told some LEO one day? I was joking, but maybe that was exactly how Gideon saw him. The BAU's very own Moses, hand-delivered by God.

He could almost see Gideon taking on the role. He'd been a master manipulator who, thankfully, had used those skills for good. Mostly.

He always knew exactly how to maneuver himself with an unsub. Always knew how to get inside their skin, how to get them to do his will. I admired that. I wished I could make myself obeisant to a serial killer instead of coming into an interview, verbal guns blazing, ready to go head to head with them. I wished I had that temperament. I admired that about Gideon. Until I found out that he'd used those same techniques on an innocent kid without a family.

Rossi thought back to the time he'd rejoined the BAU. He'd heard about Reid, of course. Most people in their branch of the Bureau had. But the person he'd met hadn't been at all whom he'd expected to meet. Rossi had conjured a mental picture of some nerd with slicked down hair and thick glasses.

Well, I was right, on that count. But I was wrong about so much else.

Somehow….maybe influenced by popular culture….. he'd expected the genius to be cold, machine-like, a computer in human skin. But the person he'd met had been anything but.

He was eager. A kid, really, but excitable. Enthused. Engaged. And pulling that Halloween mask off his head!

Rossi chuckled to himself at the memory of their first meeting. The first thing Reid had done, upon being introduced, had been to gush on about Rossi's books, and begin peppering him with questions.

A fan boy.

But a fan boy with smarts. And keen skills of observation. Not a robot. A person with a distinct personality, and a real, beating, human heart.

His reverie took Rossi back to one of their early cases, one where he'd first seen Reid mistreated in the course of doing his job.

The first time. The first. I can't even imagine what that must be like. This job is hard enough without having to wonder if you're going to be abused by the people who aren't the unsubs.

The two of them had been going door-to-door out in militia country. And Reid….FBI badge fully in view….had been greeted with, "FBI? You're not serious? You look like a pipe cleaner with eyes. I could snap you like a twig."

Rossi had been outraged for his young colleague, and sprung immediately to his defense."But then,", he'd said, "he isn't alone."

It had been enough to make the militant back down, for the moment. But not enough to keep him from getting off a parting shot, regarding Reid's weapon. "Piece of advice, pipe cleaner...the way you wear that gun, you're begging someone to take it off you."

Rossi had been about to shout another retort over his shoulder, but a look from Reid had stopped him. That look had been Reid's only acknowledgement of the entire incident, and it had spoken volumes to Rossi.

He was used to it. If it hurt him, he didn't show it. But he was embarrassed about it happening in front of me.

And so, Rossi had left it alone. But his profiler mind had filed it into that mental manila folder entitled 'Spencer Reid'.

"Knock, knock."

Rossi startled, looking up to see Derek Morgan at his door.

"What's up?"

"Just checking in. Is there any word on Hotch?"

Without having discussed it, all of the rest of the team had felt it appropriate to leave all contact with their unit chief to their second in command.

Rossi nodded. "He'll be back next week. Strauss will activate the full team then."

Morgan's face said he wasn't so sure that was a good idea. But his tongue didn't betray his feelings.

"Pretty Boy should be back then, too, right?"

Rossi gave him a half smile. "Assuming you mean Reid, he's already back."

"What? When?"

"I had Garcia set him up in the conference room for now. Less up and down for him that way."

Morgan nodded, understanding. There was an external elevator to their mezzanine, but it was out of the way and hard to get to. He could just picture Reid trying to navigate their awkward metal stairs with his crutches.

"Good idea. Don't want the Kid falling and ruining that pretty face." He turned to go, planning to search out his no-longer-absent colleague, when Rossi spoke again.

"He's pretty tough, isn't he?"

Morgan paused for a beat, recalling all of the times his younger friend had demonstrated just that.

"And then some."

Reid looked up at the sense of motion in his peripheral vision. A grinning Morgan was at the door, holding two steaming mugs of coffee in his hand.

"Welcome back, Kid! We've missed you around here."

The 'Kid' grinned. "It's good to be back."

Moving forward, Morgan held out the extra mug. "I brought you some coffee. I thought it might be easier for you if…."

He stopped, looking down at the table. They'd been hidden behind the stack of files in front of Reid.

A wry look on his face, Reid gestured to the row of four coffee mugs in front of him.

"You can just put it there. Thanks."

Morgan chuckled. "I see I'm late to the party."

"Yeah. They've all been here already. But I'm up for a hot one."

"Well, there you go. So, how is it to be back?"

"Great. I found out there are only so many times you can read the same books, and only so many games of chess you can play against yourself. I needed to come back. I needed to feel useful."

"Rehab is a lot of work, Kid. And healing takes a lot out of you, even if you don't realize it. You've been plenty useful, just getting yourself ready to come back."

The younger man shook his head. "That's not what I mean. I…. what are we doing about Hotch?"

For a moment, it sounded like Reid might be sharing Morgan's reservation about their unit chief's impending return. But then Reid finished his thought.

"What are we doing about Foyet?"

Ah. Now Morgan understood.

The rest of them had all been together after Hotch had been attacked. They'd brainstormed, and profiled, and come up with some strategies to work toward Foyet's capture. The process had, however inadequately, satisfied their need to try to control the uncontrollable. It was a hazard of the trade in their business. And, while Reid hadn't been isolated from his team members, individually, he had been isolated from the process.

He wants 'in'.

Morgan explained the status of the investigation, and the various surveillance parameters Garcia had been given.

"I'd bring you the files, but…" He cleared his throat, "they seem to be off site somewhere."

The long look exchanged by the two friends told Reid where, exactly, the files were.

"Okay. Maybe I can have Garcia show me whatever we have electronically."

"Definitely. And we should go over the whole thing, now that we have your big ol' brain back on board."

His shy smile turned up Reid's lips. "Thanks. And thanks for the coffee."

"You're welcome. And I promise not to bring you any more."

JJ and Emily each found a few reasons to visit with Reid throughout the day, and Garcia seemed to pop her head in whenever she was headed….well, anywhere. Only Rossi waited until the end of the day to check on the youngest profiler.

"So, how was your first day back?"

Reid snorted. "Well, please don't tell the FBI, but I think I may have spent all of seventy-seven minutes working. The rest of the time….."

"They're just happy to have you back. And so am I, for the record."

The young man grinned. "I know. And I appreciate everything that everyone has done for me, this whole time. I don't think I've ever eaten so well, and I've never….ever….had that much company at my apartment."

Which was exactly the opening Rossi had been hoping for. "Well, do you think you can tolerate just a little bit more?"

At the confused look on Reid's face, Rossi continued. "I thought maybe I could stop by with some dinner, and we could talk a little more about the book."

The words had a curious effect on the young genius. Blushing, he began to stammer.

"Oh! I….uh…..well…I….can you give me a few minutes? I mean…I ….well….what time?"

Rossi was too experienced in reading people not to understand Reid's reaction. His superior wanted to visit him at his home. He would want to make it look presentable. And he would not want said superior to see him struggle with the flight of stairs leading to and from his flat.

Rossi could almost see the thought clouds above Reid's head, his thinking was so obvious. Further, he knew that Reid would know that he knew. Say that three times fast! But the kid is too addled about my visit to realize. So he chose not to challenge the young man.

"Why don't you go ahead and call it a day? I've just got a couple of files to look through and then I'll pick us up something to eat, and I'll be over in..." Trying to estimate how long it would take Reid to make his way home, "….two hours?"

A look of relief came over the younger man's face. "Two hours is great. Okay….thanks, Rossi. Do you need dir….oh, never mind, I forgot. You've been there before."

"So I have. See you in a couple of hours."

The place was quaint. He hadn't been inside, the night he'd driven Reid from the restaurant. But, today, he found the building to have its own kind of charm. Well kept up, but not modernized.

Reminds me of the old days, with Carolyn, a regretful smile coming to his lips. The good old days. If I'd only known. If I'd only grown up, just a little bit more, before….

Rossi made his way up the stairs and found Reid's apartment on the second floor. He knocked, and stepped back, so he could be seen through the peephole.

It was only a few seconds before the door swung open, and Rossi was chagrined to think that Reid must have been standing there, waiting for him.

"Come in," Reid leaned on both crutches as he waved Rossi in.

Rossi walked into ….a library. That was the only word that would come to mind. Spencer Reid lived in a library. One that had its own kitchen and bedroom, granted, but that's just what it was. A full wall of shelves was filled, floor to ceiling, with books. They seemed to spill to a few tables nearby, and then to a lower half-wall of books beneath the large window.

"Wow."

Seeing his senior taking in the sight of the books, Reid swung himself to one end of the wall.

"I've got yours right here. See? In the non-fiction, work-related section."

Rossi found his books on the shelf and then looked over to Reid.

"What, no Dewey Decimal system for you?"

"I prefer my own. Dewey is pretty outdated. It's estimated that by 2020, they'll have so many subcategories that they'll have to go to a seven digit system, even using the full alphabet and a couple of symbols recently designated as acceptable, and….."

Rossi's hand had already been up for four seconds. "All right, I get it. Your system is better."

Reid looked abashed, and Rossi was immediately regretful. "Sorry. I guess I'm just hungry."

"Oh. Right. Let me get some plates. It smells delicious. In fact, it smells like…"

"Like that Indian place you like, a few blocks over, I know. It is. Emily pointed me there."

Reid stopped, mid-swing. "You asked Emily what I like?" Touched, somehow, that Rossi would have done so.

"I asked all of them. But Emily was the one who knew the takeout places."

Reid smiled. "Yeah. JJ and Garcia like to cook. But Emily orders the best takeout of anyone I know."

Continuing his trek toward the kitchen now.

Rossi chuckled as he followed. "You'd think, after having lived all over the world, she would be the go-to gourmet of the group."

Reid had had precisely that conversation with his good friend, just recently…over takeout.

"Her mother was the ambassador. She didn't cook. And she frowned on her daughter consorting with the servants."

"Ah."

This process of working with Reid was proving to be enlightening about more than one of his colleagues. Rossi saw Reid struggling to manage the plates, so he took them himself and headed to the café table he's seen in the main room. It looked like it would be easier for Reid to reach the seat there.

"Garcia is a pretty good cook, but sometimes…well, sometimes I don't understand her food."

"What is there to understand about food?" Removing containers from the takeout bag.

"Apparently, quite a lot. Garcia cooks by her mood. So, there's happy food. Or, maybe it was food that was supposed to make me happy." Pondering that for a second, then deciding to move on. "And there's healing food. And romantic food…."

"Romantic food?! Why didn't anyone tell me about this when I was married?"

"The first time? Or the second?" It was out of Reid's mouth before his brain had a chance to tell him to shut up. He tried to cover by spooning some food onto his plate.

Didn't work. Rossi's brows were up.

"Did you just make a joke about my many marital statuses? Statii?"

Momentarily panicked, Reid quickly realized that Rossi himself had made a joke.

"No! I just.."

"You just know a little bit about me, because I have a big mouth. But I know a lot less about you."

Reid purposely took a mouthful of food and chewed, before responding.

"There's not that much to know."

"Really? Because I think there's a helluva lot to know about someone who made it to the BAU in his twenties."

"Weren't you in your twenties? You and Gideon?"

Rossi had already put a forkful into his own mouth. But he spoke around it.

"Doesn't count. There was no BAU then. We were just two FBI agents who became fascinated with something."

Reid thought a moment. "Well, JJ was in her twenties, too. She's only two years older than I am."

Rossi recognized Reid's attempt to divert their conversation away from himself. And he wasn't having it.

"JJ came on as the liaison. There's profiling involved, sure. But it's a different job."

"She's really good at it."

He studied the young man across from him, so blatantly trying to avoid talking about himself.

"Yes, she is. And I'll bet she's a great cook, too, isn't she?"

Finally, a topic Reid was comfortable with.

"She is. She can cook anything. My favorite is her apricot chicken. But she makes a mean macaroni and cheese, too. Henry loves it."

Rossi smiled at the relief on Reid's face. But he wasn't quite done with the young man, who'd become so intriguing to him, over these past weeks.

"You and JJ are good friends, aren't you?"

No hesitation now. "She's my best friend. I….I guess I never really had one, before."

No, I suppose not. You've always been the outsider, haven't you? Remembering his experience with Reid's parents, and his tiny bit of exposure to Reid's childhood, last year.

"Well, good. It's good that you two are close. I'll bet she's learning a lot from you about profiling, isn't she?"

Reid was taken aback by that. He'd never really thought about it. But he and JJ were often together at the local precinct, or sheriff's department, or FBI office. And he did spend a lot of time explaining to her what he was doing.

"Uh….I guess. But she's pretty smart. She would have figured it all out anyway."

Rossi nodded his assent, and then brought them back to the topic at hand.

"So, tell me about yourself."

"Me?"

"Yes, you. You know all about me, right? If we're going to partner, shouldn't I know all about you, too?"

"I only know what you wrote in your books. But you mostly wrote about your cases, not about you."

"Really?" Rossi found himself beginning to feel uncomfortable, for the first time in their several conversations.

"Yes."

"Okay. Deal. You tell me something about your childhood, I'll tell you something about mine."

With the ball back in his court, Reid was uncomfortable once again. Rossi, noting it, did nothing to alleviate it.

I don't know why, but I know that this is important.

Beginning to feel a reconnection with something from which he hadn't realized he'd become quite so detached. So he waited Reid out.

The young man put down his fork, and cast his gaze out the window next to them, and into his past.

"When I was born, my parents were happy. I don't remember that, of course. But that's what my mom told me. Or maybe…." His eyes now scanning back and forth, reflecting his thought process. "Maybe she just said that she was happy. I'm not so sure about my dad."

Rossi's thoughts raced back to that twenty-four hour period, so many years ago. That one day when he'd been thrilled, and fulfilled….and then bereft. And he couldn't imagine any man, anywhere, for any reason, having another reaction.

"Your father wasn't happy that you were born?" Unable to keep the incredulity from his voice.

Perversely…and annoyingly, even to him….Reid felt a need to defend William.

"It wasn't that he was unhappy with me. But Mom had already been sick for a few years, and they'd decided they shouldn't have children. Or maybe it was just him who decided. I don't know."

Spending a few seconds in reverie.

"All I know is that she chose to go off her meds during her pregnancy with me, and she became symptomatic again, and ….well, it was hard for him."

"Still. He had a son."

Didn't he know how many of us have prayed for what he was given?! Didn't he know what it's like to have a prayer go unanswered?!

And then it hit Rossi.

Maybe he did know. Maybe his was just a different prayer. But it was met with the same silence on the other end.

Reid could see that something was going on with Rossi, but he knew too little about the man to understand. All he could do was to continue with his tale.

"We were okay, I guess, until I was about four or five. That's when…..well, you know about the whole Riley Jenkins thing."

Rossi did. "But your father was still with you then, right? He didn't leave until later?"

"He left when I was eleven." Reid snorted bitterly. "I guess he thought I was old enough. Too bad I was a genius. Maybe he'd have stuck around longer."

Rossi didn't quite understand. "Are you saying that he thought you could take care of yourself, and your mother, because you were intelligent?"

"I was intelligent. I was smart enough to know how to make things look good whenever a social worker, or a well-meaning teacher came by the house. I was smart enough to keep her from knowing when….. nevermind."

He'd almost said too much, more than he was comfortable with Rossi knowing. Rossi saw, and respected the boundary. He gestured for Reid to continue.

"I was that smart. So maybe my dad was right. I mean, if you're going to abandon your kid, it's important to pick the right time, isn't it?"

Making no attempt to hide the sarcasm now, nor to defend William Reid.

Rossi sat back, steady eyes on his younger companion. Reid had clearly never come to a point of acceptance about his abandonment let alone to a point of resolution.

No wonder he's so raw, sometimes. So unexpectedly emotional. He's never had it shown to him, not by his godforsaken mother, and not by his cowardly father. He's never learned how to 'be'. It's a wonder he's here at all, let alone doing this job alongside the rest of us.

Over the past few years, Reid had slowly earned the respect of his esteemed colleague….but never in such tremendous increment as just now.

You are a force to be reckoned with, Spencer Reid.

The young genius, not privy to Rossi's inner musings, spoke again.

"My expectations aren't too high, are they? I mean, if you were a father, even if you struggled in your marriage, even if your wife wasn't healthy…..would you do that? Would you abandon your son?"

In the course of his life, David Rossi had encountered many unanswerable questions. But this wasn't one of them.

"Of course not!"