By Helena Fallon.
He stood looking out across the expanse of desert. He had always loved this place, away from the constant noise of his home city, and it held happy memories of star gazing with his Dad and then with Dr Bishop and Peter. There were no stars to see in the bright sunlight, but he could still appreciate the awesome beauty of the desert's honeyed yellows and browns and large rocks that gave shelter to tiny hidden plants and animals.
Spencer always came to the desert after visiting his Mom; it put things into perspective before travelling back to the city to have dinner with the Bishops.
He had just been accepted on the Quantico programme, with the final destination being the Behavioural Analysis Unit, and had come to Las Vegas to tell his Mom the news. It had not been received very well. Her doctor thought she'd be fine, but on hearing that her son was going to work for the FBI, Diana Reid had erupted into a rant about her son's betrayal at going to work for the enemy. Spencer had left, leaving the staff to deal with the aftermath of the outburst, and had driven out here for some peace.
He now sat on a large rock that gave him a wonderful view of the scenery. Spencer felt content with his decision; he knew that he could learn a lot from Jason Gideon and was amazed by the older man's generosity towards him. Dr Gideon had invited him to spend a few days with him, before the interview, so he could prepare him for what could be a daunting experience even for the most assured of men.
Spencer wasn't outwardly self-confident, although within his own expert fields he could hold his own. Spencer Reid was by nature a rather humble person, in the best sense of the word; he didn't knowingly try to belittle people with his knowledge. However, he did have a wide pool of knowledge, consisting of the more useful and useless facts imaginable, as the consequence of a photographic memory. His fellow students had valued his abilities for any number of quiz challenges. The Princeton Postgraduate Quiz team had raised several thousands of dollars for local charities; it was all good fun, and it made a change to charity poker and bridge fund raising nights.
"Spencer" he felt his shoulder touched and gently squeezed, "Spencer!"
"Mmm…" he absently voiced and blinked awake to find his room light already on.
"Jeez…Dr. Pentall must have really tired you out…you slept though, it's 7 a.m. and Arthur is already hoping that Hilary will make him pancakes," said Glen, "You getting up?"
"Yeah," he assured and stretched out in the bed, amazed that he'd slept through despite the issues Max had covered.
Spencer got ready and made his way to the dining room. Arthur beamed his greeting as he entered and Spencer went over to join him.
"So you got pancakes then," he observed, eyeing the ample plateful.
Arthur was happy, "She looks after me just like my Susan," he replied, enthusiastically cutting into his requested breakfast.
Christine sauntered over, "Good morning, Spencer, now would you like pancakes or scrambled eggs or both?" she asked mischievously, "Or will it be toast again?"
"I think I'd like wholemeal toast and is there any strawberry conserve left?" he asked hopefully, and gazed at Christine with his big dark brown puppy dog eyes.
She smiled indulgently at the young man, "Oh, I'm sure I can find some in the kitchen," she said.
"Thank you, I'd appreciate that,"
Arthur looked at him and grinned, once Christine was out of hearing he said, "You're a right charmer, I think if I had a daughter I'd keep a close eye on her with you in the vicinity."
Spencer blushed at the gentle teasing. "I've told you Arthur, I'm not exactly that successful with women. Can we change the subject?" he said, and Arthur was sensitive enough not to pursue it.
"How do you feel about yesterday?" Arthur gently asked, keeping his voice low because he knew the staff didn't like patients and their doctors talking shop in the dining room.
Spencer waited until Christine had brought his toast and conserve to the table, and had disappeared again with the promise of coffee, before replying.
"Max is very different to you and Don. Doesn't like Gideon much does he?"
"No, but at least he's honest about it. Spencer, just remember whatever Max says about Gideon is his interpretation of what he sees. Don't take it all to heart, think for yourself and discard what doesn't fit in with your experience. But I do think it's valuable to get a different point of view of things though and Max isn't perfect…none of us are," replied Arthur softly, but understanding that Max had probably shaken Spencer's world up the previous evening.
"Max wants me to re-write my last PhD for a wider audience," said Spencer, testing Arthur's reaction to the idea.
"I think that's a good idea, several of the Mental Health team think you should write more, your student articles and your thesis are very lucid…you've quite a way with words,"
"You've read them?" asked Reid, surprised at this.
"Yeah, most of us looked up your work once we heard the Bureau had bent its rules to admit you…we wanted to know who was coming."
"Oh, I guess you would," Spencer said as he spread conserve on the second piece of toast, "I've never really thought about it," he admitted, and then thought how naïve he had been, in their position he would have done the same. He mentally chided himself for his short-sightedness and notched it up to another instance of immaturity.
"Ah! Coffee," Arthur announced, as Christine made her way towards them with a coffee-pot and two mugs on her tray. Spencer was ready for his 'wake up' coffee but he began to wonder what was going to happen today.
Arthur saved him asking, "Max is dealing with things this morning while I'm off to the synagogue with my wife"
"Oh," said Spencer as he drank the caffeine down.
"You not up to another Max attack?" asked Arthur, carefully assessing the patient.
"I don't know, he was very critical of my colleagues at times and I think perhaps that was a bit harsh,"
"Like I said, Max has his point of view, sometimes it fits your experience, sometimes it provides another way of seeing the situation, but in the end you'll come to your own conclusion of things. Just remember that Gideon has had a hard time over the past couple of years, and he sometimes can act abruptly and appear to have no interest. But Gideon's basically a good man, with his own demons, trying to do the job. He puts his heart and soul in the case but sometimes, these days, that means he doesn't always cover the group dynamics comprehensively.
"Do you think he has not been totally honest in his reporting of the team?" asked Spencer very quietly, never taking his eyes off Arthur's face.
"I'm not sure of that one, he usually talks to Don or Bill but Max has not been happy with him, especially since the Randall Garner case. If Max has hinted at that, be careful Spencer, you may get your self caught into something more than we know about," Arthur carefully counselled.
"Some internal jockeying for position, what's going on?"
"I don't know because I never get involved in the internal politics of the Bureau. I just try to do my job as well as possible and try not to take sides. The Bureau is a great place to work, but the in-fighting can be a distraction…All organisations have some power play going on; I don't play the game. Watch out, here comes Max."
Spencer casually took another sip of his coffee.
"Good morning Spencer, Max said cheerfully, "I gather you had a restful night."
"Yeah, it was a surprise to me too," Spencer replied ruefully.
"Well, I'm off to collect my Susan, see you two later," said Arthur rising from his seat.
"Yeah, have a good day and don't eat too much or Hilary will be disappointed if you can't find space for her little delights…" Spencer said, with a mischievous twinkle in the eyes that pleased both psychs to see.
"Now," said Max in a decisive tone, "We're going for a walk, finish your coffee and meet me by the garden door in 10 minutes."
Max left without waiting for a reply, but Spencer recognised an order when one was given. He quickly finished the drink and went back to his room to use the bathroom and put on a warmer jumper for the outside. Spencer made sure that he was not late, he imagined Max liked punctuality being ex-military. Glen had made sure that Spencer had one of the warmest coats in the closet and he now stood by the garden door looking out of the window.
"Ah, good, I like punctuality unfortunately it's not my Anna's forte," Max said, as he opened the door and stepped out.
The morning air kissed their faces with a crisp clean coldness, but the deluge of the previous day was over. Max walked briskly and Spencer noted that he had no choice of destination with this man. Spencer breathed deeply, the fresh air was invigorating despite the chill it possessed, and the pale blue sky held a promise of sun as the clouds seemed to be clearing with every step they took.
Spencer knew where they were heading as the upward climb began on the path that lead out of the low shrubbery. His feet began to drag a little, knowing that their owner was not willing to come this way. Max had been quite content to walk in silence and Spencer wasn't quite sure how to begin a conversation; there were too many things to consider that he'd not paid attention to before. Had he been too trusting or just plain lazy? Spencer forced his legs to keep going, he would not let Max win in this; he was going to be the master of his own life.
The two men continued to ascend the gentle slope, Spencer a step behind the older man who was very fit, something that the patient didn't feel at that moment.
"I'm sorry," Max suddenly said, aware of Spencer's harder breathing, and slowed his pace a little. "You all right with this so far?"
"The last time I was here I'd a panic attack," replied Spencer as evenly as possible, he didn't exactly feel as distressed as that first time, but he was aware of a tightening of his stomach and a dryness crept into his mouth. Spencer began to try and calm himself, knowing that he couldn't go through life without trying to fight the fear. He thought about all he had previously read on Post Traumatic Stress…he had to discipline himself to apply his knowledge personally; he was far too lax at doing that in his own life. Max was right; he was coasting…is that why he picked up sometimes a sense of disappointment from Gideon because he was not reaching his full potential?
He suddenly stopped, and was shocked to find they had actually walked into the small copse of trees…
"Breathe!" Max commanded, "Smell the air, it can't hurt you… Breathe, the air is still damp with the rain in here, but the dankness of the leaves can't hurt you… Breathe!
Good, Breathe!…We're going to leave now,"
Spencer felt firm hands take hold of his shaking arms and he followed the pressure and firm guidance his body was receiving. It seemed that they had only taken a few steps and they were out of the world of dark trees and dank leaves.
Max kept one gloved hand on his arm, he was still saying re-assuring words, but Spencer was concentrating on his measured breathing and calming his tightening stomach muscles in the hope that he would not throw up his breakfast. Max suddenly stopped and Spencer realised that they had reached a familiar seat. He shakily sat down, and marvelled that he hadn't been sick.
"Well done. I deliberately didn't tell you at breakfast where we would be going and you coped very well; you should be proud of yourself".
Spencer noted the words, but he felt too shaky to respond, however, Max seemed content to just sit beside him in silence. The patient shut his eyes and savoured the clean air and the faint birdsong that punctured the soothing quiet. He'd done it…a small triumph and he might not be able to always cope, but this time he'd been able with Max's presence, to experience a small victory.
Spencer finally opened his eyes and looked around at the beautiful bright greens of the varied vegetation; he absently thought how much he liked the colour.
"Feels good doesn't," Max quietly stated.
"Yeah, it looks like its going to be a nice day."
"We'll be able to get another walk in this afternoon. You know why I have to bring you back here?"
Spencer nodded, "I'll not be allowed home until I can cope with the suddenness of the attacks, although they could come at any time…like the nightmares and flashbacks,"
"Yes, we can help you through them while here, but in the end, there'll be times when you'll be alone and then you'll have these successful memories to fall back on. You must never feel a failure if a panic attack leaves you feeling sick and shaking. Sometimes we manage them and others, we don't manage them so well. Today, you were very good and we'll come again, and again, twice a day, everyday, to try and break the hold of the fear. I know you'll tame it. You won't be able to stop it, but to acknowledge it for what it is and then lessen it effects is the best way of looking at it." Max calmly stated, with the assurance of one whom had travelled the path many times and still had to face the unexpected visitation of memory.
"Can we go back? I'd appreciate some peppermint tea," Spencer admitted shyly.
"Yes, it has its uses doesn't it, but would your team ever believe you if you revealed you'd been drinking it?" Max replied lightly, and the two men set off at a brisk pace back to the Clinic and their room.
Spencer sat on his usual couch and watched Max prepare the mugs of tea. He wondered what would be the area of discussion this morning. Max was still an unknown quantity and Arthur's words kept coming back to him. Spencer didn't like the power play that did exist at the Bureau; he tried to keep his head down and well out of such things. But then he began to wonder again if he was being caught in some sort of battle between Max and Gideon. Both men were very clever; he could believe that both understood the undercurrents of power and playing a strategic game to place your people in the most advantageous position, while protecting their own backs. Spencer didn't want to be part of any such game and would leave the FBI and find something else…But what would he do?
"What are you thinking about so pensively?" Max asked, as he put the mugs down on the light oak coffee table.
"What I would do if I left the Bureau?" he replied, hoping a half-truth was better than a total lie.
"Why, you thinking of leaving?" Max probed and gave him a searching look.
"I was just wondering what if I couldn't face the field work anymore?"
"I would cross that bridge if you come to it. I think you need to go back to see how you cope before setting your mind on actually leaving."
"But what if I can't cope?" pressed the patient.
"The Bureau would probably offer you teaching, like it did with Gideon when he first returned. However, with your skills you might want to try a totally different department…I could see a case for putting you in computer forensics, I suspect you're an accomplished hacker,"
"I'll take the fifth," Spencer snapped back, and Max smiled, he wondered momentarily just what did this young man get up too. However, there was something about Spencer, which made Max feel there was an innate goodness in him. Even his chameleon role-play was not meant to get people hurt, although early on, it had come close to the wind.
"What…you're going to let that pass?" Spencer suddenly challenged, and Max was momentarily caught off guard.
"Actually, I was thinking about you playing the inept protégé," Max threw back and noted that he had his patient's attention.
"Any particular incident?"
"When Gideon sent you in to interview Eric Miller; I've seen the tapes. You went in all unsure and defensive…really convinced the guy and your colleagues observing. You're one hell of an actor, you spent two years interviewing the criminally insane and you were scared of that guy?"
"I was annoyed at myself for my silly remark. Gideon was correct to send me in to interview him on my own. I knew he couldn't have killed his ex or children from reading his criminal record on the way down…I could feel his pain as I walked in the room, it was like being punched in the stomach. He was right, I wasn't showing him respect by avoiding his eyes. I didn't want to look because of the pain of loss that poor guy was feeling and we had him shackled. I proved I was in control of the situation by profiling him. I was so cruel with that poor man…in the end, all he wanted was his child's drawing…I was so ashamed of how I handled it, I tried to learn from it…" recounted Reid with sadness.
Max sat back, feeling himself the distress of the recalled memory. He observed the sensitive man opposite and wondered if Reid would burn out before retirement age, or if his inner sense of self preservation would lead him in a new direction.
"Any other times you recall that your actions were questionable?"
"The campus arson attacks…you know the case you brought up yesterday,"
Max nodded and gave him a look of encouragement to go on.
"The male student Jeremy, actually reminded me of the arrogant student jocks who used to take the piss out of me…It took me back to my first PhD seminar; I was 15 and there were all these self assured students, at least 6 years older than me. They were dismissive of the wimpish boy before them…especially because women were present. Well you know how that sort behave…I could've helped them with how to approach the end of term task they were on...the 3 body problem, but I was playing my role…I knew Hotch was there and would rescue the situation. Afterwards, I felt so guilty, peoples' lives were at stake and I was role-playing! I stayed up thinking about the case and came up with the idea to help crack it. But I was wrong to have behaved like that in the first place, but I'd got myself into the problem, I then had to act my way out of it. I annoy people sometimes with my stream of useless facts…I ought to curb that as well."
Max observed the man opposite, he seemed to physically change before his eyes although it was all an illusion…it was really a change in his mental attitude.
"Well, you'll have the perfect chance to be yourself now when you go back," said Max and then added, "Spencer did either Gideon or Hotch ever pull you up over this …well immature behaviour?"
"No…I mean Hotch would sometimes put a stop to my spouting too many facts and when one day…we were at an Indian Reservation School and I was answering questions directed at a pupil…." Spencer confessed and thought how ridiculous it sounded. He cringed inside, that was last year…It had been a stupid idea in the first place, to play the role he had on Gideon's return, and it had taken time to get himself out of the hole he'd dug.
"Can you remember how you felt when you first went to the BAU…or the initial training at Quantico?"
" Oh! It was very different to academia. I had 3 doctorates and knew how to fit in with university life. But here it was so different; the agents were all more experienced in the real world. I'd had an odd childhood but I'd never had a job. I'd always won scholarships and various postgraduate prizes to pay my way and although use to being the youngest, I was out of my comfort zone," replied Spencer honestly, "The actual classes were no problem, although getting my gun qualification was."
"Why?" interjected Max.
"I guess it was the thought of the possibility of killing a person, it put up this block…Hotch was really supportive, and Gideon…but I was so annoyed with myself. I knew all the theory and I could even break down the actual action, of firing a gun and hitting a target, into its physics theory…When I had to actually fire a weapon on a case, all that practice came in useful and I acted correctly. I felt detached, at first, from the actual killing of Dowd…you know, I couldn't feel anything. Gideon came and talked to me on the flight home and re-assured me that was normal and that it would hit me later…"
"So you felt Gideon was supportive?"
"Yeah, he was…he wasn't making a big fuss over it. That's Gideon's way; he tries to show how to cope by example, but of course, we're all not necessarily like Gideon," explained Spencer, and then felt a bit guilty by the implied criticism.
Max nodded pleased, that Gideon had really done his job in this matter. Max remembered that the mandatory follow up psych evaluation had gone well; Reid had shown a well-balanced appreciation of the event and after feelings.
"Do you still feel at a disadvantage when it comes to experience?" Max continued to probe.
"Look everyone on the team are older than me…J.J.'s 4 years older and has a very confident air when it comes to handling the press, and distressed people…she's also good when liasing with the different Police departments. Morgan and Elle had Police experience, and Emily has 10 years experience in the Bureau. Well, Hotch and Gideon have their own reputations…Then there's this genius, boyish looking kid, who may be able to run rings round them all academically, but do I deserve my place? Where does my previous experience fit in the real brutish world of the crimes we attend to? It was all book learning and the reality could be pretty depressing and physically sickening… but I guess I'm getting hardened to it."
Max nodded, making a mental note of the self-appraisal. He felt that so far this morning, he had seen the real Spencer Reid come out of hiding from behind his many masks.
"Did you enjoy your time studying?"
"Oh yeah!" Spencer grinned with enthusiasm, "I went to 3 great campuses, met some very interesting people, had a really mentally stimulating time…."
"But you decided to apply for the BAU?"
"Yeah, I had 3 doctorates: theoretical mathematics, theoretical physics and then psychology…that was more applied. I was dealing with real people and I felt connected with the world again. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
"I think so, your mind had spent years steeped in theoretical puzzles and you wanted to feel a real connection to the world around you…"
"Bit odd though…I mean a connection with the real world again through the criminally insane! I think I was probably trying to understand the human mind and having a paranoid schizophrenic Mom…"
"It's quite easy to understand your choice of study with your background. My torture experience led me to study clinical psychology. I don't regret my decision, do you regret yours?"
"No, and the other doctorate areas remain an interest. Perhaps, if I can't cope with the BAU work anymore, I might go back into the clinical psychology direction and get more experience in a hospital setting," said Spencer, and then realised that he was thinking himself out of the FBI.
"Does it frighten you when you begin to think of alternative careers?" Max asked, hoping that the patient wasn't going to think he couldn't return to the BAU despite all their work.
"It's strange, I guess I haven't had to seriously think about it before," Spencer admitted, but an inner voice told him that it was wise to consider alternatives and it was a warning to the Bureau that he was not their puppet.
"I'm pleased to hear you speak about it so coherently, but I do think that you're being a little premature about the thought of ending your profiling career. Not all profilers are in the fieldwork team and like I said, you might want a change of department." Max replied evenly, "More tea?"
"Please, but I'll go to the bathroom while you make it."
Once more Spencer felt the breathing space that this room provided. His mind reviewed what had been said and he felt that he had been fair and honest in his replies. Reid hoped that Max would change the subject when he returned to his couch because he really still wanted to try with the BAU again. Dr Spencer Reid wasn't quite ready to accept defeat yet, and this might be his second chance to prove himself worthy of a position on the team.
As always, he looked in the mirror. He thought that this morning, he had aged at least 5 years! He opened the door and mentally prepared himself for another session with the Head Psych.
Spencer picked up the lute for the first time that day, and plucked the strings and tuned them to his musical satisfaction. He played a few light Italian pieces like he had the previous day, but he sensed that Max was in a talking mood. He stopped playing and reached for his mug of tea, but held the lute close to him like a shield.
Max smiled; the action had not escaped his notice. Max Pentall had to admit that the more he got to know the real Spencer, the more he liked him as a person. He was not macho, or particularly arrogant with his knowledge compared with other FBI personnel. There was a general feeling of liking Reid in the BAU department because he was their genius and quite a gentle, quiet person to have around. He was not annoyingly flirtatious like Morgan, or moody as Gideon was often perceived to be. Hotch was generally thought of as the respected boss with a rare smile and a hidden humour. With Reid, behind his puppy dog enthusiasm, there was a sense of self- direction when forced to make decisions.
"What did you do when you were not studying on campus?" Max suddenly asked.
"At which campus?" asked Reid, hoping to narrow down the parameters of the question and to give him a little more time to analyse where Max was going with this.
"Oh…Let's say when you went to Harvard and Princeton because then you were out of the comfort zone of the Bishops'."
"I'd won scholarships to both and had small apartments included, with allowances to cover for 3 years study. But I'd already done the theoretical backgrounds for the research and I only spent 2 years at both institutions."
"But what did you do when you were not studying…you know relaxation. How did you view your fellow students because at least now you were…what 17?"
"Yeah, but I was never going to fit into the undergraduate scene. I mean these kids; many of them were away from parental control for the first time …for some of them it was one long party of sex and drink with loud music thrown in. There were the two extremes: the wild types…experiencing their freedom and at the other end of the scale the quieter ones, who clung to their religion to save them from the excesses of their peers around them. I didn't fit either group. I'm not into wild parties and I'm not particularly religious, but I do try to respect other peoples beliefs." Spencer took a sip of the tea.
"I made friends with all age groups from the society's I joined. I was in the Physics Society, The Mathematics Society, The Chess Club, The Poker Group, The Harvard Choir, The Go Club, The Italian Society, The French Club, The Psychology Circle, the…"
"You were quite a social being then?" Max stated, fascinated by this insight into his student days.
"You thought I just stayed in my room or the lab and just worked?" Reid replied, "I have many interests but getting drunk, experimenting with recreational drugs and one night stands wasn't my scene. I found a lot of like-minded people and I still remain on good terms with some of them. I was even known to be seen in the company of women!" Spencer ended with a flourish and Max laughed.
"Potential girl friends?" asked Max mischievously.
"There were a few fairly fumbling relationships, nothing serious. I was actually considered quite safe to be with because I had the reputation for not jumping them and I was treated like a friend. You know like the relationship I have with Garcia and J.J…there's nothing sexual, but I like to think that we are friends in the work place."
"You don't like strong aggressive females do you?"
"I liked Elle, she could be scary at times, but I did care about her and I hope she's all right. I think I prefer the quieter type because I'm fairly quiet myself…You know, I'm not out to find the exact opposite to me in personality because I don't find that restful."
"Restful?" Max queried.
"Yeah, most of my close friends are basically quiet people. They're fun to be with but they're not loud. I think Garcia is probably the loudest person that I know and that really is something of an act." Spencer said, and then stopped as he felt he really shouldn't be talking about the gentle Garcia.
Max took the hint and changed the subject.
" You play Go, where did you learn that?"
"I went to the Go Club on the Las Vegas campus and found it more interesting than chess."
"They're both games of strategy, why?" asked Max, quite intrigued by these little details.
"The rules are simple but it can take a lifetime to become an accomplished player. It's far more complicated than chess that's why I find it a more interesting challenge. Did you know that even the strongest Go computer programmes can be beaten by Asian school children," began Spencer. Max watched the transformation in his patient as he went into his 'communicate knowledge, defined subject' mode, which he was sure his BAU colleagues were well acquainted with. He had gone off into describing the history of the game in great detail and Max watched in fascination, and tuned out most of it, so he could observe the 'genius affect'.
"…Although both chess and Go originated in Asia, chess became more popular in the west. What I find fascinating, is that you start with an empty board and then you build strong and flexible structures…so different to chess where you start with a full board of pieces with the quest of defeating your opponent by capturing the king. There are far more ways of winning at Go and there's a handicap system for the players depending on how experienced you are…An honestly ranked player can expect to lose about half their games…It requires patience and…whereas, I think chess can be seen as far more aggressive…In Go, the balance of influence and territory may shift many times and a player has to be flexible and resolute….it teaches concentration, balance and discipline…Good Shape is the highest compliment in a game…I always find it quite a beautiful game to play for the beauty of the shapes that can be achieved and…" Spencer stopped, "Sorry, I've just gone on too much…you should've stopped me," the enthusiast said, and looked down at the table embarrassed at his nerdiness taking over.
Max was momentarily speechless; there was definitely only one Spencer Reid and there was this child like enthusiasm that was quite endearing about him, but it could be exhausting for the mere mortal on the receiving end.
"Spencer, you're not totally at fault here, like I've said before, we…the FBI has failed you," Max felt he had to speak his mind more openly before this brilliant man blamed everything on himself, and left the organisation, believing himself to be a failure.
"Spencer, you've a great deal to offer the Bureau, but we have mis-managed you and you've every right to be angry with us, as your employers. We've other very clever people who come into our organisation and we help them to adjust to the work far better, bluntly we've failed you and really the buck stops with me. I'm trying to see where we went wrong so it never happens again should another genius, with wide gifts, comes to us at such a young age."
Spencer, looked up, his whole face open, easily displaying the emotions the man was experiencing.
"There was no systematic monitoring of what was going on with your placement. There were the mandatory psych evaluations, but you're an accomplished psych and knew how to answer the questions…or rather more importantly, you gave the answers you knew the psych wanted to hear. I, as the Head of Mental Health Services, must share my portion of the blame. People straight from academia, with very high intelligence, do have a period of adjustment to go through before fitting into the FBI machine. Their department heads usually assign a mentor and they're helped to bring their learning, from the highly cosseted world of academia, into the more practical and at times stressful realities of the FBI world. We've all seen it, brilliant minds but can they adapt the theory, all that book learning, to the work place? Some do adjust and make good careers within the organisation; others feel uncomfortable and return to academia without a loss of face. It's all part of growing up, and even older people have career changes and some, several careers during their working lives.
However, we failed with you. Gideon saw, quite rightly your potential, but then didn't work consistently to help you to adjust to our organisation. You said yourself, that 'it's not Gideon's way'…that is, he tends to show by example but he doesn't always firmly, openly spell out exactly what is wrong, or the behaviour he expects. In your case, this was magnified by your own personality flaws. You're a sensitive, you're naturally empathic…these are wonderful gifts as a psychologist, but with your personal history, you've used them in such a way as to be all things to all people.
You had to live with a paranoid schizophrenic; she couldn't be the loving mother that you needed, you were the carer when she should've been looking after you. This lead to a certain amount of 'appeasement' in your behaviour for an easier life at home; you kept secret what was really going on because you feared foster care. You were, on top of these problems, further isolated within the public schooling system by your intelligence…Teachers just put you into higher grades without truly dealing with the consequences of that. You were bullied: bluntly what high school student wants to be out smarted by a nerdy little kid!
Persistent bullying undermines anyone's self-confidence, but you coped like you always do and worked out your own survival strategy. After all, you didn't want to make too much of a fuss at school because then people might realise just how ill your mother was. So you put up with it, spent as much time as possible within safe places within the school, which probably meant the library, doing extra school projects. This strategy had its own fall out, you were seen as the perfect hard working pupil…perfect for a teacher with a class of hormone driven teenagers, all too many of which were spoilt brats.
I've come across too many parents appeasing their own children to get good behaviour…bribery with money, gifts and holidays…all flattering and fuelling those immature personalities. I'm sure you're seen it yourself with the Bureau's people…keeping up appearances, but how many have time for their families? The pressures of work and keeping up a social image; we try to keep an eye on things, but it can all cause a downward spiral and you can loose some very good people through drink, drugs and gambling.
Sorry, I'm digressing here," Max said apologetically to the silent patient, who was sitting hugging the lute like a child's comfort toy. Max took a sip of tea and continued.
"You perceived that to keep teacher's off your back you had to be the good hard working child...you soaked up knowledge anyway, so you coped with your strategy.
You continued that successful strategy while at Las Vegas where you were placed in an excellent foster home, by the university authorities, so you flourished. The fact that you still have contact with this family shows that it was of mutual benefit. However, again there was a detachment from the reality of undergraduate life. You were too young and an element of bullying, I suspect more psychological than physical, crept in. You fell back on your usual behaviour of reading the expectations of your tutors and working to that and remaining out of undergraduate life.
Then you escaped to Harvard, but without you to keep an eye on your Mom, her health deteriorated so much that you had to make the decision to have her committed to a hospital environment. You still find that decision distressing but, as a psychologist, you know it was the correct one. At Harvard you began to behave more like a normal student, although you were the quieter, hard working type... The kind tutors like because the work is always done on time, you're no trouble, you're kind and considerate to fellow students…actually a very nice person despite your geekiness. But in a university setting that's fine and tolerated because you're a genius, and isn't that how genius's are supposed to act? This continued as you went onto Princeton for your third doctorate.
To the pure academic mind you are a true genius, revealing your expanse of knowledge, by this change of subject area for the third time. There is no doubt that you are, but to an astute psychologist it can also hint at a personality who is still searching to find out who they really are. Your study of people, I think, was inevitable with your gifts at reading them…But you chose to study the criminally insane, perhaps to try to put to rest some of the fear remaining from your childhood experiences with your mother. Now into this mix, Prof. Donovan, introduced Jason Gideon. You saw the opportunity to put to use your abilities and Gideon was set upon mentoring you, but then things didn't turn out as well as they should have.
You're of a similar age to Stephen Gideon, who has an estrangement with his father. You became Gideon's pet project and also subconsciously, a substitute son. However, with Gideon's own character flaws, the mentoring didn't iron out the immature flaws of the pupil. The old team saw that Gideon didn't curb your geekiness so they ignored it, or used it for light relief because of the distressing job they did. Consequently, you didn't progress in a way you should have to fit your academic knowledge into the ugly practical world of the BAU.
When we lost the old team so distressingly, you found yourself with a new team leader and new agents to adjust to. The apparent self-confidence of these more experienced and worldly-wise agents was once more a challenge. You were still trying to find where you fitted into this new team when Gideon returned. With your sensitivity and loyalty, you let him always take the lead, especially as you also perceived that this was exactly what Hotch did. If they had disagreements, these two senior agents would not reveal them in front of the team. However, neither have sat you down and said bluntly that this behaviour is childish and has to stop now…which is what you needed at certain times. Nor did they lay out a programme of training with targets for you to achieve.
So Agent Reid, you coast, continue to be an awkward and flawed brilliant mind who is not working effectively on the team in a big organisation. You, Reid, needed some firm guidance at the beginning; it was sadly lacking and you drifted and got set in your patterns of behaviour because no one addressed them. As it is, I should have intervened sooner and I'm certainly going to tighten up protocols for training and assessment of new people, especially those with exceptional academic records and little experience outside academia.
However, the whole of the team has been shaken by this traumatic experience, and I know that there has been some soul-searching in your absence. I hope that you'll look upon this sick leave as an opportunity to think about who you really are and how you want to be perceived within the FBI. You've changed already, so going back with a more mature attitude to life and the work place, will be seen as a natural reaction to your near death experience at the hands of a very disturbed mind.
I seriously want you to start being yourself and stop pampering to the kid genius image that your colleagues tolerate. Morgan would benefit from you standing up to him; Hotch already feels guilty that he has not trained you properly and Gideon knows that he too has failed to prepare you for the work. Gideon both cares for you, like a son, and wants to protect you but is inconsistent in his approach. Like I said, it's my fault for not having a clear protocol for each department for training and assessment and to have them independently reviewed."
Max stopped; Spencer Reid was still sitting silently hugging the lute. However, Spencer's face looked resolute and the older man was hoping that he'd think himself into at least trying to go back to the BAU because he did see a future place for him there.
"Come on, lets go and get some fresh air, it'll help you think about all I've said this morning," Max said, rising and going to the door to lead the way back to the trees.
They walked briskly and the day had brightened and warmed up. Spencer was thinking hard about all that had been said. It was true that there was no clear training procedure after the initial academy training, because each department then took the responsibility for it's own people. He had actually never been given a formal training schedule when he arrived at the BAU. Gideon taught very informally and by example, because the general attitude was that you learnt far more by doing the job than any lecturing or book knowledge could provide. He knew that any early profile requests he had done were initially checked and this second checking lessened with experience; now his worked just had the normal spot-checking like everyone else in the BAU. The two senior profilers did have to write an annual report on each of the agents' overall effectiveness in the team, but neither had ever called him in and said that any particular behaviour was unacceptable.
Spencer sighed to himself. He knew why he liked having a 'father figure'; he had lacked the discipline that a father was supposed to impose. Reid had to be the responsible adult figure for his mother when he was still really a child himself. The adults he came in contact with all treated him well, and didn't question his behaviour, because he was basically a well-behaved child. However, who was going to give him the occasional reminders that his behaviour was immature and not acceptable, and it didn't help matters that he had a gentle demeanour. His nerdiness was acceptable in the university setting…His gentle, and sometimes old-fashioned, ways did mean people were more tolerant of things; if he had been aggressive in any way, they would have obviously shunned him. However, Spencer reflected that he did seem quite popular, in his quiet way with people, in all the activities he participated in at university.
He thought about the people he'd met since going to Quantico. The team seemed to tolerate him but was that just because they felt any censure should come from Hotch or Gideon? He resolved to try and be more circumspect when giving information in future, but he had so much information in his head. Sometimes, he even stuttered because the verbal and mental processes of the brain were out of balance: the words just couldn't keep up with his thinking.
The people he knew outside the FBI were often professionals and several were lecturers. Spencer had diverse interests and they attracted, which as far as Reid was concerned, fellow enthusiasts. He thought that perhaps to someone like Morgan or J.J. these people might again be too nerdy!
The warmth was gone, along with the sense of sunlight, and Reid found himself once more surrounded by trees. They had even walked further into this small wooded area than earlier that morning. The dampness wrapped itself around him and made the man shiver.
"Breathe deeply, try to keep to a measured breathing, it will help to control the stomach muscles, and give you something to concentrate on as the memories try to take hold." Max said, but to Spencer the voice seemed far away, as he tried to follow the commands.
Spencer felt a little dizzy as the taste of stomach acid threatened to become something more, but he used all his mental strength to suppress the sense of taste, and fought for control over his body.
Once again he felt Max's hand on his arm directing their return to the path and the light.
"You're doing remarkably well, you may look very pale and shaky but you haven't given in to the panic."
Spencer couldn't reply; he didn't feel too good at that moment and needed to sit down. Fortunately, the seat was soon in sight and he sank down breathing hard with relief and closed his eyes to compose himself. He had to get use to this; it was the only way he was going to get away from this artificial world of the Clinic.
He felt his body rhythms slowly return to normal and he savoured the relief of not being sick again.
The soft sound of the first strains of Bach's suite no.1 for cello, suddenly entered this quiet place.
"Sorry, Spencer, that's my cell," said Max, and he was already up and moving away to take a private conversation.
Spencer blinked owlishly for a few moments as one did if you had closed your eyes on a bright day and then suddenly opened them to find your world filled with radiant colour. He watched Max about 10 feet away, talking so softly that he could not make out any of the conversation, nor was he in a position to read his lips. However, he noticed tell tale movement, signifying that Max would have to go soon. The man seemed to loose the once relaxed stance, his body tensed for action and the face took on a serious far away look. He seemed to be listening attentively to the caller and then briefly spoke, waited to hear the reply and then another brief sentence from Max. He suddenly turned back to Spencer, as he was putting his cell away.
"I'm sorry, Spencer, that was an urgent call for my help. Are you able to walk back with me to the Clinic, or shall I call for one of the nurses to come and join us?"
"No, I think I'll be able to walk with you," Spencer assured and rose to join the older man wondering who needed his help, but it was not his right to know.
They concentrated on the walk back to the Clinic and Spencer felt a little breathless by the time they turned on to the path about 20 feet from the outer door.
"Sorry, I've really taken this at a pace but…"
"It's an emergency and I understand that you're not supposed to leave me on my own in the grounds. I'm all right…good job I've got long legs," the patient panted.
They reached the door and as soon as they entered, Max eyed Sean and called him over to escort Spencer to the dining room.
Spencer took off the warm coat and put it on the hook near the door.
"He was in a hurry…emergency?" queried Sean.
"Yeah, no idea what, but I thought I could keep up with him so as not to hold him back," replied Spencer, still feeling his heart pounding along with his laboured breathing.
Sean eyed him and smiled, "Considering the condition you were in when you arrived here…you're doing good!"
Spencer looked at him incredulously, he felt dreadfully unfit.
"Come on, Hilary's got a vegetable crumble today and I bet you get offered ice cream for dessert,"
The patient smiled to himself, he couldn't fault Hilary's care.
End of Chapter 10