Now apparently my last chapter brought up a lot of controversy which was not at all something I intended. To some the chapter was AU, to others it was BS, to others it was good. I know that a lot of you seem to have this problem with Reid 'easily accepting' the little baby and, well, I guess I should've put this on the last chapter instead of making it its own, but I'd already planned this part out. Maybe if I'd posted it with the last one then a few of you would've found the last one more believable. In this one I'll go a little more in depth on his thoughts in this chapter and I hope it helps it make sense for everyone else. If not and if you find you're not liking this story, well, I won't be offended if you don't want to read on. I really won't.
Okay, done rambling. Here you go.
When Spencer's head cleared a little bit and he was able to pull out of his thoughts, he looked automatically down to Mikayla. After everything he'd heard it didn't surprise him that she was asleep. The little bundle in his arms was asleep as well. He shifted a little, twisting just right, and very carefully he moved so that, as he slid sideways, Mikayla gradually laid down. By the time he rose of the couch, she was laid out perfectly. Spencer tried to lay down the little bundle in his arms, to tuck her back into her carrier, but she started to move and fuss and the last thing he wanted was to wake Mikayla up, so he resigned himself to holding the baby. Right now, though, he needed to take care of something and while Mikayla was asleep was the best time possible.
He stood for just a minute, swaying awkwardly in an imitation of what he'd seen JJ or Will do when Henry was little, trying to think things through enough to figure out what needed to be done next. His brain was still reeling, half of him was still in shock, and right now he needed to think clearer than ever. Her story was running through his mind on a loop, his brain logging away the facts and trying to think of what the next step should be. Yet he couldn't seem to move from the current moment to the next. All he could think at first was Colby. I can't believe it was Colby! He was our friend. And, in the back of his mind, Spencer couldn't help that traitorous little thought, one that made his stomach slick with shame, yet even that shame couldn't take it away. Is she telling the truth?
He didn't want to think that about her. He refused to think that about her. Yet that didn't make that little thought go away. If anything, denying it made it stronger. As he stood and held this small child and looked at the woman sleeping on the couch, the little thought grew. Look at her his mind told him. Does she look hurt? Does she look like she's been mistreated? She's thin, yes. Too thin for having just given birth such a short time ago. But she doesn't hold the gaunt look most long-term victims hold. She doesn't react like any long-term victim you've seen, either. Most wouldn't have touched even their spouse. Most wouldn't have been able to handle it. Yet she not only touched you, she curled up against you. Let you hold her.
On the tail of that came more poisonous thoughts, ones he didn't want to have and couldn't fight away. And what about this child you hold? Are you really going to be able to look at her and put away the thought that Colby is her father? Not even some nameless Unsub that you can hate. No, this is someone you knew. Someone you trusted. He was your friend and he took your wife, your very life, away from you. Can you look at these two now and actually commit yourself to raising a child that isn't even yours? She openly admitted that she went to his bed willingly.
No! There was a huge difference between wanting to have sex with someone because you loved them and wanting to have sex with them because it was the only way to avoid rape. No, absolutely no, he would not judge her for that. He refused to judge her for that.
Round and round all these thoughts went until he felt like he was going to be sick from it. He needed some air. He needed to breathe. With hands that were staring to shake, Spencer managed to get Amelia down into the baby carrier without waking mother or child. Once the straps were on to hold her in place, he made sure she was in easy reach of Mikayla. Then he indulged himself by pressing a light kiss against Mikayla's hair.
When he opened the door to Aaron's office, the team was back outside once more, watching him and waiting quietly. As much as he wanted to speak to them, he didn't know if he could. He took a deep breath, trying to open his mouth to say something, say anything, but no words came. This was too much. Too many things to process and too many feelings and just…too…much! Before he shamed himself in front of his team, in front of everyone watching him from the bullpen, in front of everyone, he had to get the hell out of here. He had to get away for just a minute. Just long enough to put his brain in order and find the ability to breathe once more.
Someone took his arm—was that Morgan? He thought it was Morgan—and he was steered into a quiet room where the door was shut. The hand steered him to a chair and made him sit down. Then, with perfect timing, something was shoved into Spencer's hands and a part of him dimly realized that it was a garbage can and it was perfect timing because everything he'd eaten was rising once more. Bending double, Spencer felt his stomach empty itself into the can in his hands. All the while a hand stroked over his back, there for him without overwhelming him, soothing him as he rode out the nausea. And when it was done, that hand moved, taking the garbage away. Spencer didn't care. He dropped his head down between his knees and tried to breathe past the panic attack he could feel licking at the edges of his mind. It wasn't supposed to be like this. It wasn't supposed to be this way! When she came home, everything was supposed to somehow find a way to be okay again. Nothing about this was okay. Nothing about this was right.
"Talk to me, kid." Morgan murmured from beside him. He was squatting beside the chair, his hand back on Spencer's back, his other hand holding out a tissue that Spencer took and used to wipe his mouth. "Talk to me."
"Everything's a mess." The words slipped out without thought. Spencer lifted just enough to rest his arms on his thighs. His head stayed bowed down and his eyes closed. In short, concise terms, he summed up what Mikayla had said. When he was done, his stomach was clenching again. Because this was Morgan, he felt safe enough to open up. Because it was Morgan, he knew he could say what he felt inside and not have to worry about being judged for it. "I wasn't lying to her when I told her that I can't hate something that's a part of her. I just can't. That little girl, she's so beautiful, Morgan. She has her Mama's eyes and I just find myself falling in love with her looking into her eyes. But at the same time there's a voice in the back of my head that says, dammit, she's not mine."
"That's an understandable response, Reid. No one's going to judge you for it. Despite the circumstances, you're going to hurt because your wife had a baby with another man. It's normal. No one expects you to just step up and play daddy and just be okay with everything."
How could he make Morgan understand? How could he make Morgan see what he was feeling inside? "It's not that I can't step up, Morgan. I can and I will. Like I told Mikayla, a father is more than a sperm donation. I'll feel privileged to have that little girl call me her Daddy." He ran his hands over his face, trying to make his head clear. "I'm not going to make a child suffer for the crimes of their parent. She didn't choose to be made this way. She didn't choose to be born to these circumstances. I can't make her suffer for something she had no control over. I just...she was supposed to be mine. Ours. And I look at her and I can't help but think that. It doesn't make me hate her or Mikayla. It just, hurts. It hurts inside. She was supposed to be mine."
"Ah, kid." They were the only words Morgan said. His hand slid up Spencer's back, settling on the back of his neck in a comforting grasp, not holding him there but simply supporting him. There was nothing he could say and he knew that. There was nothing that could be said to make this better right now. He knew it and Spencer knew it. For just that moment, the two stayed quiet, one giving strength and one taking it. They both knew he'd need it for whatever else was going to come when he stepped out of this room. Here, for now, with the support of the man who was like a brother to him, Spencer allowed himself to just sit for a bit and try to pull himself back together.
