Motivation, who? Two updates in two days? Unheard of in my world. No idea what's come over me.
Morgan and David are on the road bright and early the next morning. David is still troubled about Spencer, and he knows the agent beside him is also tense, uncharacteristically quiet during the drive. Knowing his team as he does, David's willing to bet money that Morgan is also concerned about a certain lanky teammate.
David doesn't know if he should say anything. Morgan is Spencer's go-to confidant, and David's been out of the parenting game for too long to know if it would be breaking some kind of unspoken rule, betraying Spencer's trust. He doesn't want to go behind his back, but clearly Spencer feels like he can't talk to David, and he needs to talk to someone. Morgan is the obvious choice. If David can just poke and prod a little bit, stir Morgan's curiosity and concern enough for the man to approach Spencer himself, then maybe Spencer will take the lifeline for what it is. David wants Spencer to confide in him, but realistically he just wants to Spencer to talk to someone, even if it means keeping David in the dark.
Things were much easier when the biggest problem with his son was making sure he put his clothes on in the morning.
"Did you see Reid this morning?" David asks, keeping his tone conversational. "Looks like he didn't sleep a wink last night."
Morgan side eyes him a little bit, tightening his grip on the steering wheel ever so slightly. "Yeah," he says eventually. "Kid looks like a corpse." He twitches then, regretting his words, and David inwardly sighs. Everything is so complicated with the team now.
For the most part, they've adjusted remarkably well, helped by the mandatory psych evals that the director insisted on last year. But every now and then, it interferes with the easy way they used to coexist. Spencer's more disgruntled by it than he is, David knows, but to be fair Spencer's life has tilted on its axis a little more severely than David's. Mostly, things have settled back into a familiar rhythm. Or, at least, David thought they had. This recent hiccup with Spencer is making him question that assumption.
"There's something bothering him," David says, taking the plunge. "Has he spoken to you?"
Morgan doesn't look at him, and David feels a pang of guilt. He ignores it.
"I'm not gonna tell you Reid's business," Morgan warns. "I kept his confidence before, and that's not gonna change just because you're – whatever it is you're calling each other now. You want to know what's going on, you talk to him yourself."
The loyalty is admirable, and David finds himself relieved.
"I have spoken to him," he says. "I'm not going behind his back; at least, I'm not trying to. He told me some of what was bothering him, but not all of it. I just want to make sure he's okay, that he's talking to someone about it."
Morgan visibly relaxes. "He told you? Good. I've been telling him to talk to you for weeks, but he's goddamn stubborn."
David's brow wrinkles in confusion. Weeks? He hadn't thought this had been going on for that long. How had Spencer hid it from him that well? They're supposed to be more… open with each other now. They're trying. At least, David thought they were.
"I didn't realize it's been going on that long," David says.
"Yeah, the lack of sleep has been hitting him harder lately. Maybe now he can wake you up in the middle of the night instead of me," Morgan jokes. David is confused.
"The phone calls about his mom are keeping him up?" he asks, looking for some kind of clarification. This is making less sense the more Morgan talks.
"No, the nightmares," Morgan says. "About Michaels."
"The what?"
CM
David is still reeling as they pull up to the Morrison residence. Morgan is contrite and quiet beside him, tense and frustrated, but the damage is already done. The younger agent had clammed up as soon as he realized his mistake, but David's already heard enough.
He feels ill. He had thought whatever is going on with Diana was the extent of Spencer's troubles, and that had been bad enough – but this? As much as David dreams of his four-year-old every night, as much as he longs to see more of that child in Spencer and be recognized in turn, he had never wanted this. David still doesn't know the extent of his son's time with Michaels, had resigned himself to never really knowing, and while he's spent decades torturing himself with the uncertainties, the possibilities, he'd rather never know than have Spencer have to experience it again. The fact that Spencer doesn't feel able to talk to him about it – that's worse, somehow.
But as much as David feels his world cracking bit by bit, they're still on the job, sitting outside of the house of their lead suspect. He knows how to compartmentalize, is one of the best, so he manages to pull himself together, pushing thoughts of Spencer – his son – from his mind.
Morgan is still painfully tense, guilt heavy. But they don't have time. He can grovel for forgiveness at Spencer's feet later, after David.
Morgan lets David take the lead to the front door.
Deanne Morrison is a stocky brunette with long pointy nails and a toothy smile. She doesn't seem surprised or fazed to seem them on her door step first thing in the morning, just waves them inside and offers them tea. They decline.
"Well, agents, what can I do for you?" she asks, all manners and smiles. David is instantly on edge.
"Mrs. Morrison, you're aware that four of your patients have turned up dead in the past two weeks alone?" David presses.
Deanne is quick to adopt a morose expression. "Yes, I heard," she says. "Those poor men. And their wives! Such lovely people. To break apart a marriage…" She shakes her head, touching her own wedding ring. "Well, I just can't imagine. I'll do all I can to help, of course. Within the bounds of patient confidentiality, anyway."
"What can you tell us about your patients? Any enemies? Threats?" David asks.
Deanne is quick to shake her head. "No, no, nothing like that. They were all… troubled in their lives, of course, otherwise why would they come to me?" She smiles. "But nothing like that, I'm sure. All four of them were working hard on both themselves and their marriages, to become better."
"What went wrong?" Morgan asks. Deanne looks at him sharply. "I mean, that's a nice story, sure. But we know the Mightens' were in the middle of a divorce. Counselling didn't quite work out, huh?"
Deanne purses her lips. "If they had stuck to the program I laid out for them – " she starts heatedly, before stopping herself. "Cheating is… close to unforgiveable, agents." Her voice has a new intonation now, and her eyes are focussed above their heads. Both David and Morgan turn to see a man hovering in the doorway. Mr. Morrison, presumably.
"Ah, my apologies," Deanne says, suddenly demure. "When you work with your patients as closely as I do, you become… rather invested, I'm afraid. When I heard about the divorce, well, I was disappointed, of course. The end of a marriage is a horrible thing. Oliver, darling, why don't you fetch these agents some drinks? No need to lurk and be rude to our guests."
The man, Oliver Morrison, is quick to acquiesce, heading to the kitchen despite David and Morgan's polite refusal. Oliver is careful to avoid looking at them, and skirts around the couch with a wide berth. Morgan watches him go speculatively.
"Mrs. Morrison, where were you at the time of Charles Mighten's death at approximately 6 pm three days ago? And the time of deaths of your other patients," David asks.
Deanne thinks for a moment. "Well, three nights ago I was home, with Oliver. We love watching our soaps. As for the others, I'm afraid I really couldn't say. I'm not much of a social butterfly anymore, but I do go out and about every now and then. I'd have to check my diary."
"Please do," David says pleasantly. "In the meantime, we'll be in touch. Thank you for your help." He shakes her hand, nods to Morgan, and they move to leave.
Outside, in the car, David locks eyes with Oliver through the kitchen window. The man meets his eyes for a minute, then twitches the curtains shut. Interesting, David thinks. But now that they're on their way back to the station, David can't help but think of Spencer again.
He needs to speak to him. If he's having dreams about Michaels... David hates the thought. He hates the idea of talking to Spencer about it, of sitting down and hearing whatever memories have resurfaced, however fragmented. He wants to know, wants to understand what happened, but god, he doesn't want to hear it from Spencer's mouth.
David's sure Morgan sends Spencer an SOS text before starting the car, but he doesn't care. He won't force Spencer to talk, knows that isn't fair, knows it'll be just as hard and awful for Spencer to tell him as it is for David to hear it. But he won't let Spencer duck out of it, either. Spencer hadn't told him about the dreams, about Diana – David wants to know why. Things were supposed to be getting better.
Not for the first time, David doubts his abilities as a parent. A four-year-old is easy. This? This is the furthest thing from. He feels like he's already failed.
CM
Morgan's emergency text sends a jolt of ice down Spencer's spine. This isn't supposed to happen. He's supposed to talk to David himself, later, much later, when he knows how to spin his words. When he can handle one thing at a time. He's angry, at first, at Morgan, at David, at himself. But mostly he's just worried and tired. His phone has been ringing on and off all morning, with various news on his mother, and Spencer had been preparing to breach that topic with David later, after an apology. Not this. This wasn't in the agenda.
If Spencer could just be on his own footing, his own turf, for a minute, just to think, he could adjust. But now he just has too many plates spinning, and it feels like they're starting to fall. Couldn't Morgan have just kept his mouth shut for a little longer?
"Hotch," he says, knowing his voice is too terse. He has the man's attention immediately. Spencer can only be grateful that JJ and Blake aren't in the room. "I know we're in the middle of the case, and I know we're close to catching the UnSub, but - I need to go home." Seeing Hotch's raised eyebrow, Spencer is quick to continue. "I know it's not ideal, but the team can wrap things up without me, and let's face it, I haven't been much help anyway. I'll be back at work for the paperwork, I just need to take off a few days early, that's all."
"Why?"
"Huh?"
"Tell me why, Reid. Why do you need to leave early?"
"It's, uh, a personal matter."
Hotch studies him closely. "Is it urgent?" he asks. "I don't want to be insensitive, but I'd rather not split up the team this deep into the case. If I let you leave, at least two of my other agents will be focussed on your departure rather than the case. You said it yourself, we're close to solving the case. Is the matter so urgent you can't wait until then?"
Spencer bites his lip, fighting to push down his frustration. "It's – It's my mom," he says reluctantly. "I need to see her. Soon. If I could just leave a few days early – "
Hotch sighs, and Spencer knows the battle is lost. "I'm not unreasonable," Hotch says. "I am sorry to hear about your mom, and of course I understand. But I'd rather you wait at least until we have a solid suspect in custody. You can leave before the interrogation, but I'd rather not let you go beforehand, in case this lead ends up to be a dead end." Seeing Spencer's desperate expression, Hotch softens, as much as the stoic man can. "I'm sorry, Spencer. If it really does become urgent, let me know immediately and I'll arrange the jet to take you straight to Vegas myself. You have my word. Just hold on for a few more days, okay?"
Spencer works his jaw, nods sharply, then spins on his heel and walks away. He's fuming, but not exactly surprised. He doesn't even blame Hotch, not really. Besides, he knows if he did leave now, before facing David and Morgan, the two agents would be too worried about him to devote all their attention to the case. Hotch is right, but Spencer doesn't like it.
He likes it even less because he knows Morgan and David will be back at the station too soon. David won't want to wait to talk, Spencer is sure. He has, at most, twenty minutes to figure out what the hell he's going to tell his – tell David. He hates talking about his nightmares, hates sharing the barest of details with Morgan, an invested but ultimately separate third party. Telling David will be far worse, Spencer knows.
He can only hope the lead with the marriage counsellor pans out, because the sooner he can leave, the better.