A Long Way to Go
Spencer still couldn't believe it but he loved Cal-Tech like no other school before. Here, everyone was either leaving him alone or even behaved nice with him, which had never happened before. He wasn't being bullied and it made his life so much more enjoyable! He loved all the subjects he studied and couldn't wait to take on more with time. He had finished PhD in Chemistry two months ago (he was one of the two youngest doctorate degree holders ever, tied with Karl Witte who had also gotten his title at the age of 13 in Philosophy back in 1813; the same age Spencer had been at the time) and was currently doing Mathematics and Engineering both. While others had warned him these two at once might prove to be too much, he didn't think so at all. And there were so many other faculties he was still interested in! It hadn't been easy to decide where to begin and he certainly wanted to study lots of things in the future. He'd have the time, of course. He was still only a recently turned 14-year-old child.
Not everything was sunny and happy though: his mother's condition was deteriorating, and he didn't know how it could turn out in the end: would it still worsen until she lost completely who she was? Or would it stop at some point? Would she get better? She hadn't had a good day in over three months (three months, a week, two days and thirteen hours….), and there didn't seem to be hope for one in the foreseeable future. Two of her caretakers had already resigned, saying they couldn't work with someone who wasn't cooperative at all, and the nurse he had just hired had called him in tears yesterday, complaining between sobs about the insults Diana Reid had thrown at her when she had suggested she took a bath. All in all, the boy had no idea what to do with her, as nothing seemed to help, regardless of best intentions.
Houston was a beautiful city and the hospital staff welcoming of them. Spencer's room had already been prepared for their arrival and, upon inspecting it, they thought it looked more like something you'd expect of a hotel than of a medical facility.
"It's very important for the patients to be able to feel at home. Even if they're unconscious, they might know they're at a good, loving place." – Explained the doctor who was showing them around. – "There's a cot for a visitor to take; we don't limit the time you can spend in here, just please, don't crowd the place. Getting enough oxygen is very important. The only other thing we ask of you is that you do not disturb the work we do, so we might ask you to step out for certain examinations and tests we need to run."
"That's understandable, Doctor Kaufmann." – Nodded Rossi, looking quite impressed.
"We only have five coma patients on this floor right now. There are a doctor with two researchers and three or sometimes even four nurses in each shift. That means we have time and energy to work with them individually, do everything we can for their recovery."
"What exactly will you be doing to help him?" – Asked JJ, wanting to understand what awaited their little brother.
"First thing you have to understand is that we're a research center as well as a hospital, that's why we only take a few patients and only those we think we might be able to help in any way. Our specialty is studying the workings of the brain. That means that first of all, we're trying to understand the nature of injury each person has sustained to their brains, trying to find out what prevents them from waking up and what's causing this condition. Also, we're trying to determine which type of coma they're in; yes, there are more than one types."
"Do you have any plans for Reid already?" – Inquired Emily.
"Doctor Reid, we believe, is a special case. What we already know about him had let us to the conclusion that his brain is nothing like we've ever seen."
Morgan, who hadn't been present by Hotch's explanation, didn't understand what she was talking about.
"Why?"
"We heard a lot about him: he's a genius and has incredible skills. Some of which lead to the conclusion his brain must be working differently than most people's."
"His mother has paranoid schizophrenia…" – Whispered Garcia, as if afraid to say it out loud. – "He's always been afraid of having inherited it… Do you think…?"
"There's nothing in the documentation we have received about him to suggest anything like that, but we'll see, thank you informing me, it could be important. We will run some tests right away and then I will probably be able to tell you more."
Spencer had just driven up the driveway to their Las Vegas home and got out of the car. At barely fifteen, he wouldn't be allowed to drive alone neither in California nor in Nevada, of course, and that was exactly the reason he had a fake ID and driver's license. What did it matter if it said 16 and a half when everyone always thought him to be ten years old anyway? Besides, he was a certified genius holding a PhD and working on two others. And with a sick mother whom he needed to visit regularly. Surely, these circumstances justified his lie, didn't they?
Anyway, as soon as he entered the house he could hear his mother shouting, looking for William Reid. What the hell? His father had been gone for years and hadn't been heard of since the divorce had happened…
He walked into the kitchen to find her standing at the counter, still crying out for her ex-husband. As soon as she set eyes on her son, all hell broke loose: she grabbed a knife with surprising agility and speed, and lunged at the petrified young man, screaming for help because there was an 'intruder' in the house. By the time Spencer managed to wrestle the weapon out of her hand, his left arm was a bloody mess throbbing painfully and his mother was sobbing on the floor. He could see the nurse (Stacy? Katie? Something like that…) run out through the front door in panic, not even closing it behind her. Wisely, Spencer considered this behavior a termination without notice and made a mental note to send her last payment along with her belongings to her house. He was sure she couldn't be convinced to come back even for these anymore…
His mother was now motionless, still half sitting, half lying on the cold floor, only occasionally giving a strange, strangled-sounding hiccup. He carefully crouched next to her and tentatively reached out with his right arm to stroke her hair.
"Mom…?"
She looked up confusedly at him.
"Baby? Is that you?"
"Yes, Mom. It's me. Are you all right?"
"There was somebody here, Spencer. Somebody broke into our house. I was so afraid!" – She began to cry again but at least let herself be pulled up and sat onto a chair. – "No. I saw two people. I man and a woman. Do you think they're gone now?" – She looked around as if expecting an army to attack them any moment.
Spencer sighed sadly and tried his best not to wince too noticeably when he accidentally moved his injured arm.
"Yes, Mom. They're gone. It's all right now. I promise."
"And do you think they'll come back?"
"We'll lock the door, okay?" – But how could you lock out something that was inside her head?
"Good idea. And maybe we should get an alarm system. Do you think we should get one, Spencer?"
The young man had a sudden vision of his mother setting off the alarm every time she got an episode like the one she had just had, scaring the neighbors to death and alerting the police to their… situation.
"We'll think about it. Can you stand up? We should get you up into your room, what do you say?"
"Yes, all right. Baby, what happened to your arm?" – She asked horrified, only now noticing the blood that was slowly seeping through his pullover and painting his clothes a bright red color.
"Ah… it's nothing." – Nothing, you just wanted to kill your own son with a huge kitchen knife a few minutes ago. I'm sure it happens in the best of families sometimes.
"We should tell your father, he always knows what to do." – She declared with total confidence and Spencer knew she was 'gone' again. He helped her upstairs and laid her into her bed, all the while desperately thinking about how to proceed from here.
The results of the first round of tests had just come back and the group was anxiously sitting in Doctor Kaufmann's large and elegant office in front of his expensive mahogany desk, awaiting verdict. The man – along with two of his researchers sitting on either side of him – seemed pleased.
"As promised, we looked at Doctor Reid's brain with the help of an MRI machine, and of course did some other tests as well. I'm happy to tell you that what we originally suspected has been proven true: he seems to have an extraordinary brain." – He declared with his friendly German accent, wanting to quickly reassure the worried family members. He didn't exactly understand how these diverse people could all be family, but they had said they were and who was he to question it? They certainly seemed close enough.
"How so?" – Asked Gideon, wanting… no: needing to understand the significance of these findings.
One of the scientists, a petite, dark-haired young woman sitting at the right side of the doctor, answered.
"As you might have heard already, the brain is the part of our bodies we know the less about. That's why our institute is so dedicated to this research program. It's very important that when we're saying 'genius' here, we're not talking about any measured IQ level. That, as far as we're concerned, doesn't really show us anything and also isn't necessarily accurate. Academic intelligence is a wonderful thing but it's not what we're looking for now because it doesn't tell us how one has come to achieve it. I, for example, hold two doctorate degrees but I'm far from a genius. I'm just hard-working and dedicated."
Seeing their confused expressions, the other researcher, a blond, slightly older woman at the left side of the doctor, continued.
"Mostly everyone is capable of learning anything if they really put effort and time into it. Some learn somewhat easier or faster, others maybe not so much… But everyone, who doesn't have a serious mental illness preventing it, can learn. Just because someone scores high on a test, it doesn't mean they have special abilities, unless you consider having patience to study a lot as such. What we consider true 'genius' is much more tangible than merely good grades. It's visible. There is a difference between a 'normal' brain and a genius' brain. They simply don't look and most certainly don't work the same way."
The doctor thought it best to illustrate it a bit better, noticing that the group still didn't really understand.
"I'll try to explain this with layman's terms: you know how some say we only use 10% of our brains?" – At their collective nods, he smiled. – "That's a load of rubbish." – The team blinked confusedly at that. – "If it were only as simply as that, we wouldn't have to work so hard to learn about our minds! No, it's certainly more complicated. It's more like that we don't use our whole brain at once. We use different areas for different tasks. It could be stated that, most of the time, we're using 10 percent of our capacity for one single thing we're doing, though that also doesn't mean there can't be exceptions or that sustaining our life functions like controlling breathing, movements etc. wouldn't require brainwork, however unconscious. Anyway, by Doctor Spencer Reid, we assume, it doesn't quite work like that.
"What!?" – Gasped Garcia. – "You mean, there's something wrong with him?"
The doctor hurried to clarify.
"No, no! Well, right now, obviously… But generally, there's nothing wrong. It's actually brilliant!"
The blond researcher explained:
"It's been already observed that geniuses usually use different regions of the brain while solving tasks than 'normal' people. Like when Sherlock Holmes sees the same things everyone else but comes to more difficult conclusions. We all have the information he does and still: we don't know to use them the same way. He might be just a fictional character but it demonstrates what I'm trying to say: geniuses' brains work differently, that's why they come to more creative solutions. For example in Math. Imagine not having to learn the rules because you can come up with them – or even with something much better – for yourself! If we have been informed correctly, Doctor Reid is, in fact, a mathematician, isn't he?"
Gideon, being the most familiar with the boy's accomplishments, nodded.
"Yes, it's one of his PhDs. He also has a knack for noticing connections and patterns more than anyone I've ever met. If something is just a whirl of numbers to us, it might still be a perfectly logical formation of coordinates to him. I asked him once how he did it but he said he didn't have an idea. He just sees differently than we do, I guess." – He shrugged. – "He deciphers codes quicker than any computer could. It can be fascinating to watch."
It was the dark-haired scientist who spoke next.
"It's not surprising at all. Tell me: is he able to read very fast?"
Morgan nodded.
"Yes, he has perfected speed reading. He says, there's a technic to it…"
"Well, of course, there is. But not everyone can do it. At least, not like he does. To certain degree, yes, but he's faster than anyone you've seen?" – They nodded quickly, each of them having been witnesses to their young friend demonstrating his magic on several occasions. – "Of course, it's actually not really speed reading he's doing."
"No?"
"No."
"What is it then?"
"Well, with speed reading, you train yourself to concentrate very hard on the words in front of you and to focus on the meaning. Little details easily get lost. He doesn't do that. I bet he can tell you every single word he read and even understands it all."
"Of course, he's got an eidetic memory after all."
"Fascinating… But it's not speed reading. He actually 'scans' the page into his brain and remembers it. Like when it's saved on a computer and you can call it up anytime. He is capable of being ahead with his eyes than with the actual reading. That requires him to, so to say, 'split' the brainwork into two. And that is something not everybody can do. Does he do it with text in other languages, too?" – Their smiles were answer enough. – "Speed readers can only read in their native language like that."
When nobody seemed to be able to say anything to that, the other woman spoke up.
"But, with him, we also found something else."
"That would be?" – Inquired Rossi, turning to the doctor.
"The boy's brain activity is, even more while in a coma, far more intense than anyone else's I've ever seen. It's like he's solving a very difficult equation right now, not sleeping soundly, oblivious to his surroundings."
"You're saying he's aware!?" – Deduced JJ, feeling her heart speed up at the thought. Would it be good or bad news if the young man knew in what condition he was right now? She couldn't decide…
The doctor hesitated.
"No, I wouldn't think so. I just can't imagine what 'normal' for him looks like if this is the coma..." – He said finally. – "Has he ever been tested this way?"
"Not that we know." – Answered Hotch. – "He doesn't like the attention… He's a very shy person and tries to avoid appearing anything special. He… has been bullied a lot."
"Well, but he is special, whether he likes it or not." – Declared one of the researchers simply.
"So, he really isn't normal then. I've been saying that the whole time." – Joked Morgan and the others giggled half-heartedly, remembering the ongoing battle between the two where Morgan always insisted Reid can't behave like an average person even when he tries to. The young genius would always blush a deep red and stutter something about it not being true. It was endearing to watch. Well, had been…
But Hotch wanted to know something else.
"What does that mean for him in his current situation?"
"That means…" – Concluded the doctor, looking each of them in the eyes. – "… that while normally a patient in that condition would be considered a 'lost cause', I believe Doctor Reid has a fighting chance with that brain of his. We'll see but I promise you: we won't give up on him."
After two more violent attacks, Spencer couldn't take it anymore, and finally dragged his mother to a doctor, despite all her pleadings and protests (and the scratch marks that now adorned his chest and upper arms…). The diagnosis wasn't surprising and yet he still felt devastated by it: she had paranoid schizophrenia. Yes, it was exactly as horrible as it sounded. Or maybe even more so.
It had been controlled by medications before but when she had stopped taking them during her pregnancy, her condition had gradually worsened to the point where 'simple' meds couldn't help her anymore. So, Spencer had always thought he was responsible for his parents' life spiraling downwards; now he had a doctor's opinion as a proof for it.
He read a lot about her problem. He now knew that schizophrenia was a chronic mental disorder in which a person sometimes lost touch with reality (that was called a psychosis and he was, sadly, very familiar with it). Patients had delusions and hallucinated regularly. Check. These 'can have a huge effect on functioning and can negatively affect quality of life'. Yep, check. He wasn't even sure his mother had a life anymore. 'Schizophrenic people often believe that the government is monitoring every move they make'. Check for that, too. It seemed like his mother, for the first time in her life, managed to be average in something: her illness was absolutely typical for someone with that condition. He didn't know if he should feel reassured or offended by that.
And it was a lifelong disease which could be treated but never cured. Oh, joy!
Not to mention the best part that really just made his day: it could be passed on genetically…
As most members of the team were saying goodbye to Reid and Gideon in the neatly furnished and with Star Trek posters decorated private room (the latter mostly thanks to Garcia who insisted these should be the first things her Baby Boy would see upon waking), Hotch turned to Morgan. The young agent still seemed undecided and he was the only one who hadn't gone into the room to 'talk' to their comatose friend but stood in the doorway uncertainly instead.
"Morgan, I have a task for you." – The boss began gravely.
"Forget it, I told you already I'm not going back…" – Insisted Morgan, though he didn't sound so sure of himself as before. He loved his job and had many plans for his future. He had a home in Virginia and wished for a family there: a wife and kids. He had friends and his current 'family' – the team. Leaving it all wasn't an easy decision to make but for his little brother, he was prepared to do it.
"Listen to me first, all right? I talked to the local police department and they complained about having a few cold murder cases from the past they'd like to close finally. I offered them our help with revisiting all these and seeing if there is something worth investigating."
Morgan blinked.
"What are you saying, Hotch?"
"I'm saying that you're to stay here for a while, work with them and see if there is something for us to help with. That's all. It should take you at least a couple of weeks to get through all the files in the archives; they said it was a mess."
"Oh…" – He finally understood. – "Hotch, I honestly don't know how to thank you… Look, man. I'm sorry for what I said before. I-"
"You don't need to say anything. Just… come back when you're done here, all right? The team needs you."
With that, the unit chief turned and walked into the room to join the others, leaving a chocked-up Morgan standing on the corridor.
