My Heart, It Came to Life
Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds. All recognisable characters, content, or locations belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.
Summary: In the wake of their disastrous case in Boston, Spencer's world is rocked once again. This time, by the wife most of his team still doesn't know he has. "I'm pregnant." Pre-Season 1 AU. Extreme OOC. Rating: M for language, violence, character death, and adult themes.
Author: tlyxor1.
Note: A working title. Probably won't be continued.
Chapter One:
After the events in Boston, the Behavioural Analysis Unit is disconcertingly still, and discomfortingly quiet. Gideon's off field duty, Hotch has suddenly been thrust into the role of team leader, and the rest of them - Spencer, Morgan, JJ and Garcia - are left to wade through the tumultuous grief that has rocked them all.
Windsor. Velasquez. Adams. Moreton. Hawthorne. Chang.
Their desks sit empty, bereft of their personal effects, of the obligatory stack of consultation paperwork, of emptied coffee mugs and Hawthorne's perpetual chatter. There are none of Velasquez' witty one liners, none of Chang's paper planes, or any of Windsor's conspiracy theories. Their gaping absence is unforgettable and undeniable, and Spencer's never hated his job so much in his life.
Not for the first time, Spencer asks himself 'why?'
Why is he in this job? Why was he not in that warehouse? Why didn't he see the flaws in the profile? Why? Why? Why?
"heading home, kid?"
He startles, brought from his daze by Morgan's enquiry, offers his colleague a nod, and gathers up his things.
In truth, he can't wait to leave, to get away from the stifling silence and insurmountable grief. Those men and women were his team, his friends, a quasi extended family, and four weeks later, he still can't believe they're gone.
They approach the elevator in silence - always silence, these days - and Spencer isn't surprised to find JJ and Garcia already awaiting them there. They've drawn closer together in the wake of Boston, and Spencer isn't sure what he thinks about it. He's never been good with change.
At the same time, it feels as though this newfound closeness, this bond of something indefinable that ties them inexplicably, unequivocally closer is - was - inevitable.
The thought makes Spencer's stomach churn. Not because he dislikes it, but rather, because he's hidden a great deal of his life from his team, and Spencer has no idea how to rectify that.
How do you tell your colleagues that you've been married for three years, that you are the legal guardian of your two underage siblings, that your mother is a paranoid schizophrenic permanently bound to a private sanitarium in Nevada, that your father disappeared from your childhood home without a trace, and hasn't been seen since?
It sounds almost unbelievable, and moreover, how does one even bring that up?
Despite his impressive intellect, Spencer has no idea. There's all the rest of it, too, inconsequential details that have never been brought up, but all the same, he doesn't want to think about it. Not anymore.
As they exit the lift, Morgan invites them out to a night on the town, and Spencer declines without regrets. He's never been fond of nightclubs, and although he's no stranger to such places, he'd sooner avoid them if ever possible.
Besides, he has other plans.
"A research bender doesn't count, Reid," Morgan teases.
Spencer frowns, irritated, and asks, "Is that supposed to be funny, Morgan?"
"Just a joke, kid," Morgan placates, "What are you up to, then?"
Spencer hesitates. He can tell them now, but involves a rather lengthy explanation, and he doesn't want to keep his wife waiting. Mild-mannered she may be, but Avalon Reid has never been the patient sort. He doubts, however, that his team will let him go without a proper reply.
"I'm meeting someone," he hedges. Morgan's eyebrows arch comically, Garcia smiles delightedly, and JJ tilts her head, unabashedly curious.
"Do tell, boy wonder," Garcia insists.
Spencer glances at his watch, and grimaces his regret. It's not entirely fake, either, because he's not particularly fond of lying to his team. It's only by omission, but in the grand scheme of things, does that make much of a difference? "I wish I could, but I'm running late as is. Rain check?"
Garcia sighs theatrically. "If you must, Reid, but come Monday morning, you will tell all."
"I will," he agrees, brushes his hair out of his eyes, and offers the other two - Morgan and JJ - a sheepish grin. He bids them a good weekend, retreats from the building, and makes his way home.
'Home' is located in Prince William County, on the fringes of mountclair. It's Avalon's design, a sprawling, six bedroom, four bathroom, three garage monstrosity that's more expensive than Spencer cares to think about. He and Avalon own it equally, but the 500 thousand dollars he had to contribute for it still makes him cringe.
They own it outright, at least, and it's a comfort to know that there isn't a mortgage hanging over their heads like the sword of Damocles. As he pulls into his usual spot in the garage, however, that's the last thing on his mind.
"You're late," Kelly greets him. She's sprawled out on one of the couches in the rumpus room, the greater majority of her attention on the aliens she slaughters on the TV screen. It's 'Halo', unsurprisingly, and his 16 year old sister is obsessed.
"I know," he answers, weary. With the loss of six of their members, and with Gideon on medical leave, Hotch, Morgan, and Spencer himself have been inundated with more paperwork and consultations than any of them are accustomed to. Spencer has worked through most of his lunch breaks in the last few weeks, and he has still had to work overtime. Morgan, Hotch, and JJ are similarly overwhelmed.
Spencer hates to admit it, but Hotch needs to find replacements for their departed team members, and fast. The team can't function as they are, severely understaffed, and consequently overworked.
"That's the fourth time this week, Spencer," Kelly informs him, though Spencer's already aware of that fact. She pauses her game, and glances up at him briefly. "You look exhausted."
He huffs a tired laugh, waves her off, and drags his feet towards the internal staircase. The overhead light is on, the sound of an old Faith Hill track filters from the living room, and the scent of dinner - potato bake, chicken, and assorted vegetables - wafts from the kitchen.
Avalon is there, too, humming along to the music and swaying her hips side to side as she prepares dessert from scratch. It's something she only ever does on Fridays, and even then, not religiously, but the occasions where she does are probably what make his week.
Upon sight of him, she greets him with a tender smile, her blue eyes alight. "Hey, you."
"Hey." Spencer smiles in turn, slumps his shoulders, and tugs at the knot in his tie. He's exhausted, as Kelly had observed, and it's good to be home. "I'm going to get changed."
He presses a kiss to Avalon's upturned cheek as he passes her, treads down the hallway, and towards the master bedroom he shares with his wife. On his way there, he passes Austen's room.
Austen is 12 years old, his youngest sister, and immensely infatuated with the 'Harry Potter' series. Her bedroom door is closed, but when he knocks, she tugs it open, and Spencer grimaces at the sight of her room. It's a mess, and it's a wonder Avalon hasn't seen it yet.
"Clean your room, Austen," Spencer instructs.
"It's fine, Spencer," Austen insists, "I know where everything is."
"I don't care, it's disgusting. Clean it, or you can take up kitchen duty tonight."
She scowls petulantly, slams the door, and then proceeds to blast Green Day from her stereo. He rolls his eyes at the closed door, continues towards his own bedroom, and changes into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt.
"How was your day?" He asks Avalon, upon his return to the kitchen. He helps himself to a beer, flicks on the news in the living room, and sets the table as she answers. She spent her morning occupied with their respective business partners, Adam Madison and Joshua Cooper, and her afternoon occupied with errands.
She informs him, once again, that she loves being self-employed. He reminds her, once again, of the numerous job offers she's received over the years. She reminds him, once again, that she's not interested, and once again, he concedes the the discussion.
"I just want you to do whatever makes you happy."
"I know," she answers, smiling, "And I am happy, Spencer. I promise. Anyway, you should call the girls. Dinner's ready."
Spencer knocks on Austen's door, she opens it with a scowl on her face, and Spencer's pleased to note that she's tidied up in the last twenty minutes. He nods his approval, she rolls her eyes, and trudges towards the dining room. Spencer, once he's yelled over the stairway for Kelly's benefit, joins Austen, and enquires about her day.
He receives a belligerent, monosyllabic reply for his trouble.
"Fine."
"Sorry I asked," he mutters, rises to his feet, and helps Avalon plate up his siblings' dinner. It's a fairly simple spread - spaghetti bolognese and some garlic bread - but as he and his wife settle in their respective seats, Austen and Kelly are eating with unabashed enthusiasm.
As usual, Avalon's food is delicious. It's a hobby of hers, one he and his siblings - Austen, Kelly, and Tristan - appreciate extensively. Spencer himself can manage a few simple dishes - bacon and eggs, stir fry, spaghetti - but he doesn't love cooking as his wife does, and it's obvious in the final results.
"Will your team be on active duty any time soon?" Kelly asks. She takes after their mother, with dirty blonde hair and shrewd blue eyes, but she's tall and lithe, with ambitions for law school and Las Vegas. It's her home, and Spencer's already resigned himself to the fact that he won't be able to stop her from returning there. She wants answers, wants a resolution to the mystery that's haunted them all for years, and he can't begrudge her that.
Instead, Spencer can only prepare her, and pray she doesn't get dragged in way over her head.
"It's not likely," Spencer answers. Hotch and Straus are still at loggerheads over whether or not it's too soon to introduce new members into the fold, and in truth, Spencer's not sure the remains of their team are prepared to welcome any. It's a necessity, of course, but logic and emotions have never gone hand in hand.
"It's weird to have you home every night," Kelly says.
"I'm quite fond of it, personally," Avalon opines. She wears a suggestive smirk on her face, and Spencer's sisters react accordingly.
"Of course you are," Kelly answers, rolling her eyes.
"Gross," Austen contributes.
Spencer, who is accustomed to Avalon's shameless nature by now, only shakes his head, amused and unsurprised. He doesn't get involved, however, and instead, he listens as the conversation turns to other things, quietly content. It may be strange to be home every night of the week, but Spencer will admit that he enjoys it, too. It offers him a semblance of peace from the oppressive atmosphere at work, allows him to escape the reality of his lost team members, of the secrets that weigh down on him like a ton of bricks on his chest.
Eventually, dinner is consumed, and dessert as well, and the group disperse. Kelly disappears to the entertainment room again, to the video games she's far too attached to. Austen retreats to her room, and Avalon settles herself in front of the television, to an old 'Will & Grace' rerun.
As she does, Spencer cleans the kitchen. It's a rotational chore, one that he completes absentmindedly, though no less thoroughly for his distraction.
"Want some wine?" Spencer asks Avalon. They've a bottle of red wine on the counter, a vintage imported from Italy, and it's an indulgence that's grown up him. Typically, they share a glass or two at the end of Spencer's usual work week, so when Avalon declines, he frowns. It's unlike her to pass up their usual ritual. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," she answers loftily, flicks through their cable's music channels, and settles on and old jazz station. "Are you joining me?"
Briefly, he glances at the wine, grimaces regretfully, and puts it away. Then he joins his wife on the couch, stretches his legs along the chaise portion of their sectional, and throws his arm over the back of Avalon's seat. He twines his fingers through her hair, studies her face, and frowns again.
"Stop profiling me, Spencer," she chides.
"What's wrong?" He asks, and doesn't bother to deny it.
"Nothing," she answers, but her teeth chew at her bottom lip, and she can't quite meet his gaze.
"Liar."
She huffs, rolls her eyes, and cards a hand through her dark hair. "Can't get anything past you."
"Ava, what is it?"
"Nothing," she repeats, and amends, "Nothing bad, I don't think. I hope."
He frowns, puzzled, and wonders if he'll ever understand women, or at the very least, this woman in particular.
"Spencer," she hesitates, "I went to the doctor today. I… I'm pregnant."