26

A.N. Short chapter, in memory of those lost, one week out from that awful day. Winter solstice, darkest day of the year today, headed towards the light.

Consequences

Chapter 26

Reid found himself at JJ's that evening. He had to consciously restrain himself from squeezing too hard as he greeted Henry with a hug. This is better than any drug, or medicine, or therapist, could ever be. He'd come 'home' to unconditional love, and he was immensely grateful for it.

"How's my little man?"

"I'm being good, Uncle Spence! Santa's coming in three more nights!"

Both Reid and JJ laughed. Reid turned to her to ask, "What do you do to get him to behave the rest of the year?"

She gave Reid her sternest look, causing him to cower in mock fear. "Oh, no, not that!"

"Yes, 'the look'. That, and 'time out' still seem to work."

Reid looked intimidated. "Will I have to put him in 'time out' some day?" Not at all sure he would be capable.

"If you want to hang around the Jareau household, you'll have to learn to follow the rules."

He made a show of thinking it over. "Okay. I'm an FBI agent, after all. I should be able to put a four year old into 'time out'."

They were teasing back and forth, but there was a subtext to their conversation that was layers deep. It presumed an ongoing, significant relationship. And it presumed that Reid would be free, and still working with the FBI. Neither subject was fodder for humor.

Putting the more serious issues aside, JJ and Reid retreated to the kitchen to prepare dinner together while Henry sat at the table and drew a few pictures to leave for Santa and Rudolph. It was an intimate scene, and one in which Reid had never thought he'd have a place. The sharp contrast with the events of the day in court, and the uncertainty of his future, left him feeling emotionally on edge. He held himself in check through dinner, while Henry and JJ told him about Henry's preschool Christmas pageant of a few days before. It seemed Rudolph's back end had become separated from his front end, and almost fallen off the stage, until Frosty saved the day. Later, Reid found tears coming to his eyes during Henry's prayers, as his godson included a special prayer that his Uncle Spence could come over every night, and play, and teach him magic.

But once the youngster was put to bed, and the adults settled into the living room, Reid reached for JJ and held her tight. He clung to her for a long time, holding her against him.

"Are you all right?"

"I just need to hold you, okay?" When only a few hours ago, he'd been comforting her.

"Okay." Pause. "Spence, what is it? I mean, besides the obvious. There's something else, isn't there?"

He released her, and they settled themselves on the sofa, his arm around her, and her head on his chest. He had trouble finding the right words. Hesitatingly, he tried to explain.

"It's just….it's just that it's so precious….it's all so precious…..being with you, being with Henry. Like we're a family." He didn't have to remind her that he'd never really had one. He went on. "And it's all so precarious…we could lose it. All it will take is for the jury to decide against me, and it will be gone, in an instant. It sounds crazy, but I want it with everything that's in me….but I don't want it, because it would be too painful to lose it."

JJ was quiet for a long moment, staring at the lights on the tree. Then she got up and went to the mantle, where she had a display of Christmas cards. She looked through them and then plucked one off and brought it back to Reid.

"Take a look at this."

He didn't know what to make of what she was asking, but he complied.

JJ explained. "It's from the Curcio family. Do you remember them? It was a case, right around this time of year, shortly after we both became part of the BAU. Their six year old daughter had been killed, along with two other children from their neighborhood."

He remembered. With his eidetic memory, there was very little he didn't remember. "We found her body in the basement of a neighbor three blocks away. They were devastated."

She nodded. "They were. I was our liaison then, and I spent a lot of time with them. They kind of bonded with me…quite a few families have, I guess….but they, more than most. They sent me a Christmas card that year. Can you imagine? They lose their daughter just a few weeks before Christmas, and they send me a Christmas card. But it was really a 'thank you' card. They wanted to thank us for the work we did, for bringing her 'home' to them, even though they'd lost her. And they continue to send me a card, every year."

"How did they even go on, JJ? How do any of the families we deal with go on? And especially when they've lost a child?" As much as he feared losing his relationship with JJ, the potential loss of Henry was unthinkable. Three years away from Henry would be almost half the boy's lifetime.

She took a deep breath. "I don't know, Spence. I wanted to understand, so I asked them one time. What they told me is something that keeps me going when I get so discouraged. Which happens often...our job is so hard. It's why it was so important that we try to save Declan, why it's worth even what we're going through now. And why it's crucial that we try to prevent other families from having to go through it."

In a quiet voice, he urged her on. He needed to know. "Tell me, JJ."

"They told me that, partly, they go on because they have no choice. But they also go on because they do have a choice."

She saw the look on his face, and smiled. "I know, I didn't get it either. But then I started to understand. They can choose to focus on the loss, and let all of their lives come to a standstill. Or they can choose to live life more fully, in honor of the one they've lost. To remember that life is what is precious, and only when it's lived as fully as possible. And realizing that's the reason it hurts so much when it's lost. If it wasn't important, if it was easy to give up while you're still living…well, it wasn't of much value then, was it?"

"But JJ, how do they go on? I mean, isn't there just a huge hole?"

She nodded. "Mr. Curcio was explicit about that. He said there was a hole in his family that virtually tore their fabric apart. That they would never be the same again, as individuals or as a family. And he said that, while that hole might be repaired, it would always look like what it was…a torn fabric, pieced together. It would never look whole again. But he also said it was like scar tissue, after a wound has been stitched together. Thick, dense, both making it hard for joy and sadness to penetrate in to them, and hard for them to reach out, to connect with the world. But, like scar tissue, it would also provide a structure, an artificial strong point, something they could hold on to when they needed it."

"Weak and strong at the same time. A paradox." Reid was thinking about how the metaphor applied in his own situation.

"A paradox. So, he said, his family….his remaining family….is strongly bonded. There is always a sensation of hurt around their missing member, and how she died…..but they've become a stronger family unit because of it. And they still consider her to be a member…an absent member…of that unit."

He thought for a long time. "So this….what we're going through….I feel bad even comparing it to their situation. I mean, it's tough, but it's not for a lifetime. At worst it's three years, and the loss of a job, maybe a reputation. But I can see it, the similarity. I mean, the loss of who I was, or thought I was. The wound of losing that, and you, and Henry, for whatever amount of time. And I can also see the scar tissue forming. The places where it can't hurt us anymore. And the way we feel so strong when we're together, you and Henry and I. I can see it."

She was glad. She took his hand and kissed it. "That's the point, Spence. You risk the hurt, because not risking it causes you to lose the life you're leading. And if the hurt comes, you hold fast through it. Pain is a long, dark tunnel. But it has an end. And there's daylight there. The Curcios got to the daylight. So will we."

For the umpteenth time, Reid was glad he'd fallen in love with a very wise woman. He trusted her wisdom, and gave silent thanks for it, and for her, and her son, and the life they all shared together, for however long they were given to share it.

26