When Spencer was released the next morning, he wanted to go right to work. Garcia refused, and insisted that he go home to shower and change first. After a few minutes of the subject being up for debate, he finally caved in, realizing that she wouldn't stop. Once they got to his apartment, she sat down on the couch.
"Take your time, Prodigy. If you feel lightheaded at all, you'd better call me and let me know."
"Will do," he called from the bedroom. "I'm going to be in your office with you, right?"
"I'm afraid you're stuck with me until you're out of there."
He smiled, taking out his outfit for the day and walking out. "The TV remote's on the sidetable, and you can help yourself to anything. Also I know you're going to anyway, so feel free to go through the nursery and move anything you think doesn't look right."
"You know me so well."
He shrugged. "Knowing someone for over seven years teaches you a few things," he said, before walking to the bathroom and closing the door.
While he was in the shower, she went over to the nursery, looking around at his handy work. She had to say, everything he did looked pretty well organized, and she didn't have any corrections to make. She looked in the small bag in the corner and realized that he'd already packed her bag for the hospital. Letting her nosiness get the best of her, she opened the bag and looked through. Unsurprisingly, she found a book of fairy tales at the bottom of the bag. Besides that, she found he had everything: mittens, booties, a few outfits, socks, onesies, a card from his mother, one of the outfits she'd given him as a going home outfit, and something that surprised her: a blanket with the letters PDR stitched into it. She smiled, tracing her finger over the letters.
"…What are you doing?"
She looked behind her to see Spencer with a robe on, drying out his hair with a towel.
"Sorry! Curiosity killed the cat. I couldn't stop myself from looking through her hospital bag. I'm sorry!" she packed the bag back up, setting it down.
"You didn't look at the card, did you?"
"What? No. It looked personal. I didn't open it."
"It's from my mom… that and the blanket. She wanted me to wait to read it until I could read it to her. And she had a blanket just like that for me when I was a baby, with the initials stitched in and everything."
"She's excited to be a grandmother, isn't she?"
"On the good days where she remembers. I had one of the nurses call me and tell me that she was already telling the other patients all about her son the doctor having a granddaughter that would be visiting soon."
"So… are you going to tell me what the PD stands for? I know you wouldn't do Persephone or Penelope – the name is pretty amazing, but come on, she'll have a lot to live up to."
He shook his head. "You'll find out when she makes her debut."
"Not even a hint?"
"Sorry. Not even a little one," he said, before walking to his room to get changed.
Garcia took out her phone, checking the caller ID.
"Hello?"
"Hello? No typical Garcia greeting? I'm disappointed."
She smiled. "Sorry, sir. It was sort of a long night."
"How's he doing?"
"Doctor saw no reason to keep him this morning, so she let him go, but I'll keep an eye on him, make sure nothing else goes wrong."
"Are you going into work?"
"He's just getting ready in his bedroom right now, then we'll be in my office and give you a call."
"Be sure to tell me if there are any problems."
"Will do," she said, before hanging up.
"Okay in there, smart guy?"
He groaned. "Not a word. Promise?"
"Why?"
He walked out, his button up shirt barely reaching the middle of his bump. She bit her lip, putting a hand over her mouth.
"Garcia, not a word."
"I'm not saying anything!"
He sighed, pulling his jacket over and buttoning. "9 more weeks and I can go back to wearing normal clothes without feeling like I swallowed a watermelon, whole. Though I don't get why people use that expression, considering that it's impossible, even if you break your jaw, to fit a whole watermelon in your mouth, let alone swallow it without killing yourself."
She shook her head, handing him his bag. "Let's get going, prodigy, we've got work to do."
He put his bag over his shoulder, following her out of the apartment.
As they walked into the office, she was lecturing him.
"You need to get a new car. I'm sorry, but I'm not going to let Princess Prodigy be driven around in that 1950's death trap."
"It's a 1960's Volvo Amazon, and it's not a death trap."
"You're going to be a parent. You need a parent car."
"Just because I'm having a baby, doesn't mean I'm going to force myself to drive a minivan with those little vinyl family members on the back window."
"You don't need to drive a minivan – oh but whatever you get, you should totally get those stickers! I'll find the perfect ones, I swear."
He rolled his eyes with a stern "No" while he poured the hot water into his cup.
"Fine, but promise me you'll at least get yourself a dependable car somewhere down the road."
"I'll look, how's that?"
"Good. For now."
He sipped his tea. "So, to your office?"
She nodded. "I made a few changes. I think you're going to like it."
"I feel like I should be frightened."
"Nonsense, now come on," she said, leading the way to her office. When they arrived at the door, she stopped.
"…What?"
"I'd like to let it be known I don't like anyone being in my office, let alone allowing them any personal space. When Kevin was in here, he's lucky I was too weak from the gunshot wound to kill him."
"Okay?"
She opened the door and what he saw amazed him. She had her usual set-up in the corner, but off to the side in front of some of the monitors, she had set up a desk area for him. He walked up, set his tea down on a coaster, and looked around. She'd put up some of the sonogram pictures in frames, and decorated it with little figurines and comic book action figures.
"It's about time you get your own fun zone." She flipped a switch and turned on a set of white Christmas lights.
He smiled, taking off his jacket and setting it on the back of the chair. "This is perfect. Thanks, Garcia."
"You're going to be stuck with me, you might as well be comfortable," she said with a wink.
He sat down, resting his hand on his bump. "I think she likes it, too."
She sat in her own chair, putting the phone on speaker and calling Morgan.
"Hey, Baby Girl, what's going on?"
"You've got me and the Princess Carrier, at your service."
"Princess Carrier? Come on, that's just not fair, Garcia."
She pointed a finger at him. "I will banish you to the corner."
He sighed. "Fine. But I expect a more creative name to come up before these five weeks are over."
"Agreed."
"So are you two settling in okay?"
"Absolutely peachy."
"Okay, Baby Girl. I'm gonna need you to do what Hotch asked yesterday: look up the former foster homes and the biological families of the three boys; see if you can find a record or anything incriminating."
"Can do, and I'll have the help of Baby Baking Brainiac."
"And suddenly, I have no problem with Princess Carrier."
"You two behave yourselves."
"I will to the best of my ability."
He shook his head, hanging up the phone.
Reid scanned the documents that Garcia had pulled up on the first family, while she looked on the other two.
"Why didn't they give us something more complicated? I mean, come on, obviously if they're in foster care, there's something wrong with the biological parents. That's why they're in foster care," she said as she scrolled through. "The second father was a drug addict who failed at getting clean and the mother's a former prostitute. Both strung out and crazy, they're both going to be pissed at the system for taking their son away."
"Each of them has a motive, but not enough of a motive to take three boys from three homes. And all of this is the work of the same unsub."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Well, each of the biological parents would want their son, and only their son. They wouldn't waste their time taking two more boys when they just want to reunite their families. Besides, if you need any further proof, the mother in the first family in jail, and the father committed suicide last year."
"Touché, my clever protégé."
"Protégé?"
"I could go back to Baby Baking Brainiac."
"Nevermind."
He rolled his chair over to the map on the wall, putting in pins. "Okay, so the first house is the blue pin, second is the red, and the third is the yellow. They weren't exactly in the same neighborhood, so it's not like they could've been three random abductions. Then again, the fact that they were all foster children shows that there was definite strategy behind the kidnappings. The question is, why? The unsub had some reason or logic behind it, but what could it be?"
He dug his phone out of his pocket and answered.
"Hey, Hotch."
"Did you find anything yet?"
"Based on the biological families and the foster families, absolutely nothing. None of these parents would have the motive to take any child except their own, and one of the children, one biological parent is in jail and the other committed suicide. We have nothing to go on as of right now. Not even the geographic profile says something. They weren't even close to the same neighborhood, but definitely well planned considering there were no signs of forced entry and they were able to get in and out without alerting any of the family."
Hotch sighed. Spencer knew that wasn't the answer he was hoping for.
"We've got a cold trail in each of the homes – this unsub definitely knew what he was doing. I have Morgan, Prentiss, and JJ interviewing the families, hoping they can figure something out we haven't alreaIdy. See if you can dig anything else up, I'll keep you posted."
"No problem, Hotch."
"Garcia driving you crazy yet?"
"Not quite. We'll see how this case goes."
"Don't forget to take a nap after lunch: put your feet up and relax. I'll have Garcia report back to me if you don't."
"I will."