Disclaimer: The show persists in not being mine, which I'm sure is as shocking a state of affairs to you as it is to me.
.
.
The Reid Effect
.
.
Spencer Reid was in the break room late that evening when he heard a woman speaking from the bullpen, but it was the indistinct sound of a boy's sullen answer that caused his brow to furrow in puzzlement. Stirring his coffee as he walked, he entered the larger room only to find Jack Hotchner and his aunt.
"Ms. Brooks?" he asked.
Jessica Brooks turned to face him and her harried face lit up with relief. "Oh, Doctor Reid! I'm so glad to see you." Striding quickly over to him, she turned her back on Jack and lowered her voice. "I'm so sorry to ask this, but can you help me? My father's just been taken to the hospital and Agent Anderson says Aaron is in a meeting. Is there any way you could watch Jack until Aaron's finished?" Her voice dropped further, down to a whisper, and Reid noticed she was trembling. "I really need to be there, but I don't want Jack to be…" she broke up, tears coming to her eyes.
"Of course, it's no problem," Reid told her. "Would you like me to get someone to drive you?"
"No, that's all right," Jessica said, already walking towards the exit. "My car's in the shop so Jack and I came in a cab. I told the driver to wait."
"Are you sure?"
Jessica nodded distractedly, then was gone. Reid stood there, coffee in hand, looking after her for a moment, hoping things would turn out okay and at the same time chastising himself for not asking after her father, before turning and realizing that he had absolutely no idea what to do with Jack.
"Sooooo…. Uh, is there anything you want to do while we wait for your Dad, Jack?" Reid asked awkwardly after sitting back down at his desk.
Jack didn't bother to answer. From his expression and the sharp, violent way he was twisting Tara's chair around it was pretty obvious he was in a sulk about something.
Reid hid his nervousness and tried again. "Have you got some school work to do, Jack? I could help you with it if you want."
Jack's answer was a simple and curt, "No."
"I think Garcia's got some computer games in her lair." And you and Henry might be the only ones she wouldn't kill me for letting in there, Reid thought. "Would you like to do that?"
Jack shook his head, not bothering to look at him. Reid knew this was behaviour Hotch would have called the boy on, but he himself had only met Jack a few times and he didn't feel comfortable enough for that.
Besides, Reid was starting to get the feeling that Jack's uncharacteristic attitude had to do with something more than the snappish and snarling beginnings of preadolescence. The boy's whole body language radiated not just anger, but misery.
"I'm sorry your grandfather had to go to the hospital. I hope he'll be okay," Reid said gently.
Jack shrugged. "What do I care? Old people are boring."
Reid hesitated for a moment, trying to decide about whether to push things and risk making them worse, or to just wait out the time in painful silence and let Hotch deal with his son. With a sigh and an inward cringe at what he was potentially getting himself into, he waded in the mire with, "Really? I would have loved the chance to get to know my grandparents better."
"Who cares?" Jack said, shrugging again in an attempt to seem nonchalant, but from the way he turned his head away Reid could tell Jack didn't want him to see that he was close to tears.
"Are you mad at your Grandpa?"
"Look, I said who cares, all right!" Jack shouted, jumping from Tara's chair and stalking off towards the elevators.
"Jack, wait! Where are you going?"
Jack froze and Reid noticed the tightness in the boy's back; he was already tightly wound and now he was practically quivering with embarrassment, likely because he realized that he'd had no idea of where he was going, or even where he could go. Hotch's meeting was in his office, so that left only one other place. Swivelling around, Jack stiffly headed towards the bathrooms as if that's where he'd always intended to go in the first place. Reid, chagrined, quickly followed and stood just outside the door to wait. Checking his watch every twenty seconds or so, Reid managed to hold out for five minutes before he went in.
"Jack? I'm sorry, Jack. I won't talk about your grandfather any more."
No answer.
"Jack, there are no windows and no other doors, so I know you're in here."
Still no response.
"Plus I can see your feet under the stall door."
The tiny hiss of consternation and the hurried sound of Jack clambering up onto the toilet lid would have been funny in other circumstances. Instead, the flustered Reid decided to take the course of desperate babysitters everywhere: outright bribery. "You know, I haven't had my dinner yet."
"So?"
Reid nearly chuckled in relief - a surly answer was at least an answer. "So, I was thinking of going down to the cafeteria for a burger and fries."
"So go," Jack tried, but he was sold out by a sudden stomach rumble.
"Really? So I should go all by myself?"
"Yeah," Jack started to say, but another undeniable grumble limited him to "Darn it!"
"Come on out, Jack, and we'll go have some dinner."
"I don't want to!"
"Are you sure? They've got chocolate milkshakes."
Jack huffed and came out, slamming the stall door shut with a bang. "Okaaaay! Fine."
After Reid quickly went back to his desk to lock his computer, they went to the cafeteria and proceeded to have an extremely uncomfortable meal until Reid happened to stumble on asking Jack what his favourite video games were. For the next five minutes he listened attentively to an enthusiastic description of something called "Minecraft", before the subject then moved onto Halloween.
"I love Halloween," Reid told him. "The mystery, the wonder - it's a night when all order is suspended and the barriers between the natural and the supernatural are temporarily removed. Best of all: you can be anyone you want to be."
"You still celebrate Halloween, Uncle Spencer?"
"Sure. I mean, I don't go trick or treating, but I still like to do something that night, even if it's just to wear a mask to a scary movie."
"But you're, you know, old."
"Getting older doesn't always mean you have to give up the things you like, Jack," Reid said, popping a ketchup laden fry into his mouth. "Besides," he went on after he'd swallowed, "Celebrating Halloween wasn't something I got to do a lot of as a kid, so I'm making up for it now."
Jack looked at him, confused. "Why didn't you celebrate Halloween as a kid?"
"My mom was sick a lot. Well, she still is, but now she lives at a hospital. So I didn't get to go out much."
"Why didn't your Dad take you?"
"He did a couple of times, but… it's difficult to explain, Jack. You see, part of my mother's illness made her scared of strangers, so it bothered her for me to go knocking on a whole bunch of their doors."
"Geez, what kind of being sick does that?"
Reid took a long sip of his milkshake before answering, wondering how deep to get into the subject of his mother's illness. "My mom suffers from something called paranoid schizophrenia. It's a type of mental illness."
"Your mom's crazy?"
Reid grimaced. "Well, a lot of people would say that, but that's not really the right word to use, Jack."
Jack squirmed a little, sensing he'd said the wrong thing. "I'm sorry, Uncle Spencer. I didn't mean to say anything bad about your mom," he apologized.
"It's okay, Jack. You didn't know."
They were silent for a few moments, each picking at what was left of their dinners. "Jonathan at school says my grandpa's crazy," Jack said under his breath.
"Why did he say that?"
"Cause Grandpa was throwing a hissy fit in the car when Aunt Jessica came to pick me up the other day. Grandpa called Mr. Donaldson 'a dirty Commie' and he shot his coffee cup at Ms. Du Maurier's back windshield. He was acting like a crazy person and everybody saw!"
"I guess they made fun of you, huh?"
"Yeah!" Jack declared, and his sense of the unfairness of the whole situation was dripping from his tone.
"I'm very sorry that happened to you, Jack."
Jack sniffed and then wiped his nose on his sleeve. Reid passed him a napkin. "Aren't you going to tell me how to fix it?" Jack asked curiously.
"I wish I could."
"But you're the smartest person in the whole world! How can you not know the answer?"
"Well, first off, I'm not the smartest person in the world. And second…" Reid sighed. "And second, there are times when there is no good answer, when all you can do is live through something. I will tell you that in the end, no matter how badly he embarrassed you, your grandfather will still be far more important to you than any one of these kids who made fun of you. In fact, he'll probably be more important than any of the friends you've got right now. He's the one you're going to care about when you're older and the others will seem very unimportant. But that's something you learn with time, and I know from personal experience that it doesn't make this kind of thing any better at all, does it?"
Jack gazed at him intently, not quite sure what was happening. "Aren't you supposed to tell me to tell my teacher or something? That's what adults do, isn't it? Either that, or they give you a lot of dumb sayings and tell you it'll all get better with time."
Reid winced; he probably should have told Jack to talk to someone, but since the few people he'd told had done nothing but brush him off when he was a child, the idea hadn't even occurred to him now. Suddenly he felt very discouraged picturing what kind of father he might make.
"Sorry. That's probably a good idea. I mean, about you talking to someone. You could talk to your Dad or your Aunt Jessica - "
"I don't want to talk to them!" Jack snapped, surprising Reid.
"Why not?"
Jack kicked at the table leg and laid his head down on his arm so he wouldn't have to look at Reid. "Cause they didn't tell me Grandpa is dying! They didn't even tell me he was sick. They just kept lying and lying and saying Grandpa was tired," he sneered. "He's not tired, he's got Alzheimer's! I found out when I heard Aunt Jess talking to her friend Shamira. And they kept lying to me even I when got scared cause Grandpa forgot me!"
There was the sound of a chair scraping the floor somewhere behind and off to Reid's left, as if someone was getting up, but Reid didn't notice as he was so intent on Jack. Answering with the first thing to pop into his head, even he was surprised at the words that came out of his mouth: "My mom sometimes forgets me too."
Jack's head shot up, his eyes wide. "Really?"
"Yeah."
"Your own mom?"
"Yes. Sometimes, she forgets outright. Other times, she remembers that she has a son called Spencer, but she doesn't recognize me as him. Then other times, she thinks she's living in some year in the past, so she doesn't remember me because of course, for her, I haven't been born yet. But no matter why she doesn't remember me, it's still very hard to deal with."
"Does your Dad make you feel better?"
"My Dad was already gone by the time my Mom's illness got to that point."
"Gone? Did he die?"
"No. He just, well, left."
"He left you and your mom when your mom was sick?"
"Yes."
"How old were you?"
"I was ten."
"But that's how old I am."
"Yeah."
"Oh." Jack didn't know what to do with this information. "Do you think my Dad or Aunt Jessica will leave cause of Grandpa?" he finally asked.
"Don't worry, Jack. I don't think there's any chance of that at all."
"How come?"
Reid tried to think of what to say. "My father wasn't a bad man - though he may not have been an entirely good one, either - but mostly he ran out on my mom and me because he was a weak one. So, since I grew up with a weak man, I know what they look like, and trust me, your dad isn't one by any stretch of the imagination. That's not to say there won't be times when he's discouraged, times when he'll need you, but I can say with a hundred percent confidence that your dad's not the running away type."
"Okay. Can I ask you something else, Uncle Spencer?"
"Anything, buddy."
"Does your mom not remembering you hurt even now? Even though you're a grown-up?"
"It really does." Reid swallowed down a hard lump in his throat, hugely embarrassed at suddenly having to fight off his own tears. "It hurts like most people wouldn't believe. It makes me feel angry - at her, at life for doing this to her, at other people cause they get mothers who are healthy. It makes me so, so sad, because we can't really have happy times together. It makes me feel incredibly alone, and it makes me feel so…I don't know, invisible, I suppose. When people talk about things like this, they talk about the one who's sick and say it feels like they're going away from them, but I always felt like I was the one who wasn't there. And not like people just couldn't see me, more like I actually didn't exist anymore."
He could see Jack staring at him, stunned, but Reid didn't know why until Jack let out a hushed "Yeah,"as if in awe that someone actually knew exactly what he was talking about.
"But most of the time she does remember me, Jack, so there's something that I try to keep in mind on those times when she doesn't, and that's that her memory of me is still there, it's just sort of locked away sometimes where she can't get at it. And I think that's true of your grandpa too.
"People used to think - a lot still do - that victims of mental illness or Alzheimer's were that way because they were weak-willed, that it was some fault of theirs for not being mentally or emotionally strong enough, but it's not like that. There's a great number of theories about your grandfather's illness," and here Reid was about to launch into a long description of the various hypotheses involving proteins, neurotransmitters, amyloid deposits, and poor functioning of the blood brain barrier, but he stopped at the realization it would likely all be over Jack's head. "But, in any case, the main thing to know is that they're all physical causes.
"Think of it this way: if a disease was attacking your lungs, you'd have trouble breathing, right?"
"Yeah," Jack agreed.
"And if one attacked your legs, then it would be hard or even impossible to walk, right?"
Another nod.
"So if something attacks your brain, like Alzheimer's or schizophrenia or a brain tumour, then it would make it hard to think and remember, don't you think? And because the brain is also where our emotions come from, it also means that sometimes they'll be out of control - which is why your grandpa was getting so upset in the car."
"I guess," Jack conceded, but he sounded a little unsure.
"What I'm trying to say is that your grandpa's memories of you are trapped in one part of his brain, and now they're under attack, like soldiers trying to defend a fort. Sometimes the enemy will win, and your grandpa won't be able to get to those memories, but sometimes his side will win, and he'll know who you are."
Jack considered this. "But eventually he'll lose for good, and the enemy will take the fort, won't they?" a despondent Jack said. "I mean, Grandpa's going to die, isn't he?"
Reid thought about lying, but in the end, he couldn't. "Eventually, yes," he said as gently as he could. "But it can be many years before Alzheimer's finally takes someone, so he might have some time left."
To his surprise, Jack didn't ask how long; whether that was down to his child's mind being too overwhelmed or a very mature acceptance that maybe there was really no point in asking, Reid couldn't say, but with Jack being Hotch's son, he suspected the latter. "It also means it's stupid for people to make fun of sick people," Jack said instead, changing the subject, or at least the direction of the conversation.
"It is. It's stupid, mean-spirited, and pointless, and shows a great deal of ignorance," Reid agreed. "A lot of people might not be trying to be mean, however. Most of them simply don't know any better, like you did with the word crazy. I didn't think for a minute you were trying to be insulting - "
"I really wasn't, honest!" Jack interrupted.
"Don't worry, buddy, I know. I just had a fact you didn't yet, right?"
"Yeah."
"And so maybe some of the kids at school are the same way?"
"No! They were jerks! I hate them."
"Well, some probably are jerks. But maybe you could just consider the idea that some of them were acting out because they didn't know any better? Or because new things scare them?"
"Fine," Jack huffed. "I'll think about it." Reid smiled to himself as the little boy managed to let him know just how put out he was simply from the angry way he slurped up the last of his milkshake.
"Are you feeling any better now?"
Jack shrugged.
"Is there something still on your mind?"
"How come Daddy and Aunt Jessica didn't tell me about Grandpa?"
Reid breathed out heavily. "I can only guess," he said, "but there's probably a couple of reasons."
"Like what?" Jack demanded.
"Privacy, for a start. I don't think either your dad or your aunt are ashamed of what your grandfather is going through, but they likely understand that he might not want other people to know yet, and so they want to respect his right to privacy. And then there's fear."
"Fear? But what are they scared of? They're grown-ups!"
"Grown-ups get scared too," Reid pointed out.
"Yeah, I know, but… But they should be less scared than me!"
"When I had to take care of my mom, my stomach was in a tight knot everyday. I wasn't just scared, I was terrified. I was also so worried and exhausted I couldn't think straight; I felt like I wanted to cry all the time. I know I was a kid, but it's like that for adults too. Your Aunt Jess is probably so busy and so scared - and sad; as much as you love your grandpa, this is her father, and she's going to lose him - so she probably can't even imagine trying to deal with anything else right now. Your dad, too. Maybe it's not as scary for him since it's not his father, and he's not taking care of your grandpa the same way, but… well, you know how when you love someone you want to help them?"
"Yeah."
"Your dad loved your mom very much." Reid was about to add, "I know they had their problems,"but he stopped himself; he didn't know how much Jack knew about his parents' marriage before Haley's death. "And when you love someone, you want to help them even if they're gone. I think helping your grandpa is something your dad wants to do very much because it's the only thing left he can still do for your mom.
"Not to mention, it's very hard to tell someone something you know is going to hurt them. I'm very sorry for how you found out, Jack. I don't have to imagine how scared you were, either before or after. People think if they don't tell their kids something horrible that they're sparing them, but - most of the time - kids know something is wrong, and if someone doesn't talk to them, they imagine all kinds of even worse things. I know I did before my dad finally told me about my mom.
"But, on the other hand, I know what it's like to have to tell someone that a loved one is gone. I still remember the first time. I had to tell a man his daughter was dead, and as much as I knew it was better for him to know for sure, I still felt terrible, because in a sense, I was the one hurting him. And no one ever wants to feel like that, especially not when it's their own son they're going to hurt."
Jack was quiet for a long time. "Do you think there's a heaven, Uncle Spencer?"
"I think there could be."
"So when Grandpa dies, maybe he'll be with Mommy?"
"I think that if there is a heaven, then that's exactly what will happen."
Jack sighed. "Okay," he whispered.
Reid wanted to reassure Jack that his grandfather wasn't gone yet, and that he might have many more good years ahead of him, but he had no idea why Mr. Brooks had been taken to the hospital, and so he didn't want to get Jack's hopes up. Instead, he lead Jack back to the bullpen (blinking briefly at a sudden shadow darting away) and found a website for him that had stories from other kids coping with their grandparents having Alzheimer's. There were no good answers to give him, Reid reasoned, but at least he could help Jack see that he wasn't alone.
"Hey, Jack," he said as the boy browsed through a list of the way kids could help keep their grandparents calm.
"Yeah?"
"Can I tell you a couple of other things?"
"Sure, I guess," Jack said, not turning away from his reading.
"It's great that you want to help your grandpa, but it's okay if sometimes you still want to be a kid and go out and have fun with your friends."
Jack turned to face him and he was biting his lip, as if afraid to think Reid was right.
"And you know what else?"
"What?"
"This is going to sound like a very clichéd grown-up thing to say, but I think your dad and aunt Jess are probably feeling very discouraged because they can't help your grandpa right now. I bet if you talked to them and let them help you, it would help them."
"He's right," a voice said from behind them.
"Dad!" Jack yelled and raced to hug his father. "Is your meeting done?"
"Yep, just wrapped up."
"Finally!" Jack exclaimed, but Reid raised an anxious eyebrow at Hotch's words - the scraping chair and darting shadow in the cafeteria suddenly falling into place - and nervously wondered if he'd interfered in his superior's parenting of his son to breathtakingly forbidden degree.
But Hotch just smiled and thanked Reid for watching Jack. Father and son left then, and it wasn't until Reid was halfway home and sitting alone on the Metro that he began to re-examine the things he'd said to Jack that evening. If he was being honest, he didn't feel better for having opened up. What he felt was drained from the hours long unconscious tension of trying not to screw up Jack too badly by saying the wrong thing - drained and weary and aching from the rawness of the wound he'd opened up in himself. Perhaps because, for him at least, what he went through could never be changed, the darkness only scabbed over, he couldn't tell if he'd actually helped Jack or not, but as he got off at his stop, he fervently hoped that he had.
-x-
The next day…
"Reid, wait up!" Hotch called from down the hall from the front entrance of the building leading to elevators.
"Oh, hi, Hotch. Is Jack okay this morning?"
"We had a long talk in the car driving home last night. By the way, I meant to apologize for not offering you a ride - "
"Don't worry about it. I know you and Jack had some pretty serious things to discuss. And I'm sorry if I butted in," Reid said, his speech speeding up as he began to worry once again that he'd over-stepped his bounds, "I had known your family emergency a few months back was about your father-in-law, but I didn't know it was anything permanent. You never mentioned to us about Mr. Brooks having Alzheimer's disease. But I swear I didn't tell Jack - he already knew. And things just came out as we were talking - "
"It's okay, Reid. Jack's feeling a lot better today and that's what I wanted to thank you for." The elevator doors opened and they got in.
"You were listening, weren't you?" Reid asked him once the doors were shut.
"Sorry, yes. I was going to go over when Jack talked about knowing that Roy is going to die, and I should have - you shouldn't have had to talk about your mother like that if it made you uncomfortable - but you jumped in and you were doing such a fantastic job of relating to him, that I just couldn't interrupt."
"Really?"
"Really," Hotch reassured him. "And I want to apologize too for not considering until I was home how much that conversation might have affected you as well."
Reid shrugged and Hotch managed to forbear mentioning that at the moment his subordinate was just as transparent as his son was when wanting to hide that something was wrong. To the older man's surprise however, Reid admitted to it. "It wasn't easy," he confided, "but it's something that's always going to be there. At least as long as Mom is ill."
The elevator opened on their floor and both men got out.
"I'm sorry about that, Spencer."
"I know. And thank you."
"I'll see you in the briefing room."
"Right."
Spencer turned to go to his desk while Hotch started off towards his office. The older man took two steps and then said, "Oh, and Reid?"
"Yes?"
"Thank you for not being the running away type either."
.
My apologies if I've now depressed the daylights out of you. It seems like a very sad and pathetic thank you for all of your wonderful reviews for the last chapter.
Anyway, I've heard rumours that another cast member is leaving this season. I don't know if that's true, or who it is (if you know, don't tell me), but I wondered if it was Thomas Gibson, and so got to thinking how they might write him out. My theory is that they'll use his father-in-law's illness to give him a reason to take a promotion to Section Chief or higher, which he'll agree to because he'll feel bad about leaving so much of Jack's care to Jessica when she's now looking after her father as well.
But even if this isn't what will happen on the show, I might use it for "The Formation of Planets", which, yes, I am still working on, even though I'm having a heck of a time trying to control the next chapter.