With Phil advising them to 'lay low', there wasn't much that the trio could do except stay where they were. Laura was firm in that they should stay with her. At the first hint of a suggestion that they wouldn't, she'd put her hands on her hips and fixed both Spencer and Natasha with a glare that was a lot more intimidating than it should've been. "If you think for one minute that I'm going to let the woman who is like my husband's sister as well as my own child just run off and hide somewhere else under some stupid idea that they're keeping me safe, you've got another thing coming!"
For Laura, that had been that, and there was no more arguing it. Neither Spencer nor Natasha knew quite how to deal with this kind of family. It wasn't something they were used to. All they could do was go along with it and hope they weren't making a huge mistake and putting Laura at risk.
The shocks kept coming, too. For their second night there Natasha was showed to the guest room that Laura had made up for her, while Spencer was taken up to the second floor and then back to a door at the very end, which opened up to another set of stairs. Laura and Clint smiled at her when he gave them a curious look. "Go on." Laura encouraged him. She gestured with one hand towards the stairs. "Go take a look."
Spencer gave them one last curious look before he turned and made his way up the narrow staircase. About three-quarters of the way up it opened up by his head and he realized that he was going up into the attic. At the top of the stairs there were a few feet of space before he would hit the wall and the window there. But if he stood at the top of the stairs and turned to his left, he got a clear view of the rest of the attic. What he saw had his lips parting on a surprised breath.
This wasn't a typical attic. Oh, sure, there were shelving units built alongside the other side of the stairs, blocking off any walkway over there. On those shelves were tubs Spencer could see were labeled 'Christmas' or 'Easter' or 'Winter Clothes'. But the rest of the space? The rest of the space was amazing. He stood there for a few minutes and just… stared. There was a simple window dead ahead, giving the room some light. Along the right wall, directly in front of him, was a large oak armoire. After that, there was a bit of space and then a long dresser in a matching oak. On top the dresser sat a TV with a DVD/VHS player hooked up next to it.
On the left side of the room, there was a beautiful desk with bookshelves on either side of it that were full of books. There was a small bit of space between the furthest bookshelf and a small nightstand, and then there was the bed. A king sized bed, Spencer would guess, with a wooden frame that matched the oak of the rest of his pieces and looked sturdy as could be. It was decked out in bedding that was a deep, dark purple, and there was a quilt folded up at the end.
Spencer stared at everything in stunned silence. This couldn't… there was no way this was what he thought it was. But he kept seeing little things—the piles of books, the comfortable looking chair near the window with a soft looking throw, the hints of his favorite color showing here and there—that told him that maybe, just maybe, this was what he thought it was. That maybe… maybe this was for him.
He heard Clint and Laura come up the stairs. They'd given him a moment, allowing him privacy to look around. Now they came up and stood on either side of him and looked around the room with him.
"It's not quite done yet." Clint said, breaking the silence that had fallen over them. "That window over there doesn't seal properly, so it still lets in a cold breeze at night if you don't tack a blanket up over it. But I figured we could have some fun one afternoon, knock it out and replace it. Maybe with a bigger window, one with a built in seat and some storage underneath. Give you a place to sit and read and watch it rain or snow. I know you like things like that."
Spencer wanted to reach out, to take hold of one of them, or run his fingers over everything in the room. Instead, he curled his hands in tight and stuffed them down into his pockets, unable to trust this. Unable to believe. Not without hearing the words. "I… I don't…"
A gentle hand curled around his inner elbow and stroked up his bicep. "It's for you, Spencer. We didn't want to just stick you in a guestroom. This is your room, for whenever you're here. It won't ever belong to anyone else no matter what."
"Why?" Spencer couldn't help himself. The word slipped up before he could stop it, full of disbelief and a longing he was embarrassed to admit to.
He could feel the emotions on Laura and her thoughts were suggesting that she was going to say something important, something that was going to destroy what little control Spencer had managed to gather around him. For a brief moment he wanted nothing more than to run; he didn't think he could handle whatever it was she was going to say to him. But he was saved from that by Clint slinging an arm around his shoulders and grinning at him in that cheeky way that he had. "You took this on when you started calling me Dad, sprout. You've got no one to blame but yourself when my wife adopts you too. Face it," His grin grew even more as he slid his arm up off Spencer's shoulders and around his neck, playfully dragging him in and mock-choking him. "You're a Barton now. You're stuck with us!"
The playful teasing was just the right tone to take with Spencer. It pushed back some of his panic, some of his shock, and gave him solid ground to stand on once more. This was easy and familiar for him. He could grin up at Clint and tug away from him, giving him a playful scowl he knew Clint wouldn't be offended by.
And when Clint tactfully retreated, knowing Spencer well enough to know that he'd need some alone time, the young genius stayed in there afterwards and took a few moments of alone time to look around the room with awe. Not 'the room'. My room. Mine. This was his. Laura and Clint had made him his own permanent room in their home. The entire attic, all to himself, so he could have his room and also have his privacy. They'd included him in their family, even with the impending birth of their actual child. They'd give him a home.
Spencer sat down on his bed and looked around his space, a smile on his lips. I wish you could see this, Mom. I wish I could bring you here. His mother would be happy for him, he knew. She loved him dearly, and he loved her back just as fiercely, but there was a sense of disconnect between them sometimes. Their relationship had never been a simple mother/child relationship. Too much of it had revolved around Spencer taking care of her. Protecting her. When she was lucid enough, she'd hated it, and she'd always wished that he'd had a better home. "You've got such a big heart, baby." She'd told him plenty of times in the past. "You deserve to have a huge family around you. People to love you and that you can love back. I hope you get that one day."
I've got it, Mom. Spencer thought, giving the room another look. Maybe not the way you'd planned, but I've got it.
After a brief thought, Spencer rose and went to the desk, finding a notebook in there as well as a pen. Maybe he couldn't show his mom his new room, or introduce her to his new family, but he could tell her about it. He settled down onto his bed with a smile and began to pen another of his long letters to his mother.
Natasha was the one sent to fetch him the next day for breakfast. The feel of her body landing on the bed was what woke him up. The only thing that kept him from attacking her was that his powers had identified her before he'd even opened his eyes. Spencer had relaxed his walls enough while sleeping last night, feeling strangely safe in a way he wasn't used to, and so his powers had easily sensed the room around him. That meant that they'd taken note of Natasha as soon as she came up the stairs. Since she was labeled in his mind as 'family' and 'safe', no internal alarms had gone off. He'd slept right up until she threw herself down on the bed next to him.
When Spencer opened his eyes, his face mostly smushed into his pillow, he found her laying on her back beside him, hands folded behind her head and a smirk on her face that was rarely seen outside of the privacy of her rooms. This was pure Natasha; no front, no masks, just her. "Rise and shine, Spencer. The parents are calling breakfast."
"Ungfh."
It wasn't the most intelligent response, but it was kind of worth it when Spencer got to see the tiny little lines form at the corners of Natasha's eyes, the ones that meant she was actually smiling even if it didn't quite show on her lips all the way. "You rather your Abbu came up here to get you?"
God, no. That was the last thing Spencer wanted. Clint was an ass when he wanted to wake someone up. He'd straight up grabbed the mattress before and dumped Spencer out of bed back in their old apartment. Spencer scowled at just the idea of it, which only made Natasha chuckle. "I suggest you get up then, malyshka."
Despite her words, neither one of them really moved. They both lay where they were and just enjoyed one another's company. After a few minutes of lying there, it was Natasha who broke the silence, though she didn't turn to look at him. "How're you doing, malen'kiy voin?"
"Okay." It was the best answer Spencer could give at the moment. He didn't know how to put the rest of it into words.
Natasha seemed to understand that. She was good at understanding things. With a nod, she relaxed herself into the bed again, letting her eyes stay on the ceiling. "You'll make it through this, Spencer." She told him, voice soft. "You aren't alone anymore. You're part of a family now."
The hint of longing in those words didn't go unnoticed by Spencer. He knew Natasha well enough not to call her out on it, though. Instead, he took a leaf from Clint's book and used a hint of teasing to make the point he wanted here. "Oh, don't act like you're not just as stuck here as I am." Spencer said, smirking just a little. At her surprised look, he let his smirk grow. "They both treat you like you're Clint's sister. Laura even called you that out loud. That means you're just as much a part of this family as I am." Then, because he could see and feel that she was still just a bit hesitant, he added on just a little more he knew would help make this easier for. "Hey, if you're Clint's sister, and he's my Abbu, does that make you my Phuppi?"
Sticking with the Urdu family words, he'd chosen the word for aunt. Or, more specifically, paternal aunt, sister to his father.
Spencer felt the shock hit her emotions, followed almost instantly by the kind of love that only a select few knew she was capable of. He closed his eyes and let himself bask in the warmth of it all. This… this was what family really was. This well of emotion, flowing around him and wrapping over him.
They were all a bit broken, all of them damaged, and yet they'd come together and made themselves a family, and they were all so much stronger for it.
During the daytime it was easy for Spencer to just pretend. Pretend that nothing was going on, pretend that trouble wasn't waiting in the wings. He lost himself in spending time with his newly formed family, telling stories and spending time together, all of them getting to know each other in a way they hadn't been able to really do before. One good thing that was going to come out of all of this was the way their bonds were so much stronger now.
They ate their meals together, watched movies, played games. Clint and Spencer would go out and shoot their bows, Clint still keeping up Spencer's lessons. Other times Clint and Natasha would spar, or Spencer and Natasha.
Clint and Spencer got to work on breaking down Spencer's window one afternoon and replacing it with the big window and the seat that Clint had talked about. It took a weekend to do it, and during that time Spencer simply slept down in Natasha's room. Once it was done, he happily went back to his room—his room—and slept in there that night with his new window letting the moonlight in. The next day, they went to town to pick out some more supplies so they could tackle a long list of things that Clint had to do around the house still. His 'Honey-do' list, as Laura called it. With Clint's approval, they also came home with a daybed for Spencer's room. One that would be set up like a couch most of the time, but could be used as a bed if needed.
Two nights later, when they'd been there almost two weeks now, he woke up in the middle of the night to find that Natasha was lying on the bed, her back to the wall and her face towards him, sound asleep. He simply smiled to himself and went back to sleep.
For the most part, they avoided any talk of what waited for them back at SHIELD. Spencer knew that Clint talked to Phil, kept in contact with him so that they'd know what was going on, but for the first time in his life, Spencer didn't want the details on things. He was trusting in others to take care of it. Maybe it was the cowardly way out, but he didn't care. He didn't want to have to deal with any of this.
Of course, he should've known better. He should've known he couldn't escape it, not even in his own mind.
They'd been at the Barton farm for three weeks when the first nightmare hit. All of Spencer's repression had kept them from hitting. Eventually, not even that was enough, though. The nightmare hit and Spencer's body did what it always did when he tried to break out of it—it ran.
He woke to find himself curled up tight inside of a dark space. Chest heaving, panicked breaths still getting stuck inside, he widened his eyes and stared around him, trying to figure out where he was and how on earth he'd gotten from there—the bright lights, needles, all those hands, and pain, oh God so much pain—to here. Any other time and Spencer was absolutely terrified of the dark. After dreams like this? The small, dark space was exactly what he needed. He could reach out with shaky hands and feel for things, catching the bottles near his feet and the bend of something cold and metal by him, and he could figure out that he was under the sink and there was no one else in this space with him. No one else could get to him or get hold of him without him knowing they were coming. It was just him in this tiny little space and he was safe.
He felt even more safe once he stretched out his powers just enough to feel a very familiar presence nearby. Clint was right outside the cupboards. From the feel of him, as well as his location, Spencer guessed that he was leaning against the door that was in front of Spencer's legs.
As his heart slowed down and stopped pounding so loudly in his ears, he could faintly hear the sound of Clint's voice. He wasn't speaking, though. He was singing. It took a minute for Spencer to realize that it wasn't in English, and another minute to realize that it was in… Gaelic? Clint was singing a song in Gaelic. At first, Spencer's brain wasn't alert enough to translate the words. The panic and fear was still too strong. But he could get the beat and the emotion behind the words. They carried a deep, lilting sound, one that made him feel sort of… warm. And safe.
When the song finished, Spencer felt somewhat calm again. Calm enough to at least crack the door open the slightest bit.
A sliver of light lit up his hiding spot. Through that crack, he could see a hint of Clint's blond hair and enough of his shoulder to realize that the man didn't have a shirt on. He was sitting here, shirtless, in a cold room. Or maybe Spencer was just cold from the leftover dregs of his nightmare.
Neither one spoke for a little bit. Spencer just stayed curled up, wanting to go climb out next to Clint and yet ashamed to do so, and not quite ready to leave the safety of his spot. He knew no one else was in the house but family. Laura was somewhere nearby—if he had to guess by distance, and by the hint of what he could see of the room through his crack, she was likely sitting in the hallway, and this was the cupboard under the sink in the bathroom—and Natasha was with her. They'd probably be able to hear him if he spoke, but they were giving them the illusion of privacy and Spencer was grateful for that. It made it a bit easier for him to speak.
"I was four when the Facility took me in." Spencer said in a soft, slightly shaky voice. He felt Clint startle, felt the way the man braced himself mentally to hear whatever Spencer was going to say. He'd talked about some random bits from his dreams before, some of the past, but he'd never told Clint everything. He'd never told anyone everything. But if these people… if they wanted him to be a part of their family, they deserved to know some of it. They deserved to know what they were getting in to. "Before that, I stayed with my parents. I got to be a normal little kid, or as normal as something like me can get, for four years. And then they came for me, and my… my father let them take us."
He heard Clint suck in a sharp breath. Ignoring it, Spencer bowed his head down, resting his forehead against the pipe in front of him. The coolness of the metal made him shiver, yet he didn't pull away.
"From what I've been able to piece together, William Reid was a lawyer on their payroll. It's how they knew about the troubles Mom was having getting pregnant and how they got to her to make me. William let them. Then, they came to take me when I was four, and William didn't fight to keep us. I don't know what happened to him. He didn't move with us. It was just me and Mom, moved into this 'safe house' that was part of the Facility. Mom was already sick enough that she barely left her rooms if she didn't remember to take her meds, and they only gave her her meds on days that I was good, so I learned to be good quickly."
He'd learned that lesson very quickly. If he wanted Diana to be well, he had to be good, do what they said, and then they'd take care of her and make sure he got her meds. At the end of each day, if he'd behaved they'd hand him her pills and he'd get to take them back to her and convince her to take them.
"There were different people for different aspects of my life. Master Sun taught me how to fight, how to use my body to do anything I wanted. Lolo taught me most of the weapons I know." Those were memories that could make Spencer smile sometimes. Lolo had been, kind. He'd been kind and friendly to Spencer as he taught him weapon after weapon, praising him when he did well and supporting him until he got the hang of it. "Skylar was the resident telepath, and she taught me my shields and how to use my powers." How to pervert them. How to use them to hurt. "And…Scott was my medical doctor. He was in charge of my health and my powers. Finding out which ones I had, trying to trigger new ones, and trying to find a way to create more. They weren't satisfied with the powers I had. He always wanted to make them more." He'd been convinced that Spencer had more inside him. That he could expand the powers he did have, maybe even one day expanding his gender shifting into something more complex. Either actual shapeshifting, or at least gaining the ability to change his looks as well when he shifted. He'd tried to get Spencer to do it, to change the color of his hair or his eyes, to make himself shorter or taller in either form. It had never worked, but that hadn't stopped him.
Spencer shivered a little as he realized that Scott hadn't been all that wrong. The telekinesis that Spencer had shown twice now—and had refused since then to try and use—was proof of that.
Keeping his eyes open wide to try and keep the memories a bit more at bay, Spencer pressed his forehead harder against the pipe, needing the ache it created just to ground himself. "They… they experimented on me. A lot. I don't know all the things they did or all the things they gave me. I'm not… I'm not safe. There's no telling what's inside of me or what I'm going to do." He thought of the TK wave he'd blasted his team with and he shivered. "I could hurt you, Clint. I could hurt all of you. They, they did so many things to me. They made me a monster, and I can't…"
"No." Clint cut in sharply. It was the first time he'd spoken since Spencer started and the sharpness of it silenced the young genius quickly. "You're not a monster, Spencer. I don't give a damn what they did to you. You're not a monster."
Spencer's breath was shaky, trembling on his lips as he shook his head. "I am. They made me into one and I, I didn't fight." Not so long as it kept his mother safe. "The things I've done…the people I've hurt? The ones I've killed? You don't know the things I've done."
"None of us are perfect, Spencer."
Clenching his eyes shut against the traitorous tears that built, Spencer made himself say the words he hated, words that made him hate himself even more. "By the time SHIELD got me, my kill list was twice the size of the one you have now." Another breath, even shakier this time, and Spencer had to fight not to throw up. "I was six the first time I killed someone for them."
"I don't care." Clint said. There was the sound of shuffling and then Clint's hand was slipping inside Spencer's hiding spot. He didn't hold on to him, just let his hand rest against Spencer's hip, knuckles brushing against him. "I don't give a damn about what they made you do back then. It doesn't change a thing, all right? No matter what you tell me, I'm not going anywhere." His voice changed, lightening in a way that meant that he was smiling. "Face it, you're stuck with me, peanut."
The hand against Spencer's hip shifted, ring and middle finger drawing down until only three fingers were left up, and then he pressed that silent message against Spencer's hip, telling him in sign what he knew Spencer still had a hard time hearing in words. I love you.
Spencer's breath caught in his throat and he had to battle back a sob. It was so hard for him to uncurl his hand from where it was gripping at his leg. Yet he managed it, bringing it down to shakily press the same sign against Clint's forearm. When Clint felt the message, he gave one last press to Spencer's hip and then slid his hand back, letting Spencer's fingers trail over his forearm until their hands met and they could latch on, holding tightly to one another.
It wasn't until almost a month had passed by before they finally heard anything definite from SHIELD. It came in the form of a phone call—for Spencer.
The family were all sitting together on the front porch enjoying a few drinks after dinner, telling a few of the good stories in their past while they watched the stars slowly come out, when Clint's cell phone rang. The sound of it ringing was enough to silence them all. Everyone was watching as Clint picked up the phone that hadn't rang the entire time they'd been here. "Hello?" He said cautiously. A second later he went on instant alert. "What do you want?"
There was a slight widening of his eyes, a brief pause, and then Clint was looking at Spencer and holding the phone out to him. "It's Jason."
Oh. Spencer stared at the phone like it was something that could bite him. Slowly, cautiously, he reached out and took the phone. Only, instead of bringing it up to his ear, he did the only thing that really made sense to him and he hit the speakerphone feature. Then he carefully set the phone on the railing beside him. With everyone's eyes on him, he watched the phone, deliberately not looking at anyone. "Jason?"
"Spencer." Jason sounded oddly relieved. "It's good to hear you. How've you been?"
Spencer licked his lips and debated his words for a second. "On edge." He finally settled on saying. He wasn't really in the mood to beat around the bush right now, though. This past month had been filled with too much anxiety. With the usual bluntness he showed with Jason, he cut right to the chase and asked "What's going on, Jason? How much trouble am I in?"
"Well, you're on probation." Jason said. "And there's reams of paperwork you're going to have to do. But I promise you, you're in nowhere near as much trouble as, say, a person who felt it was appropriate to tranquilize one of their teammates with a tranquilizer stronger than what they should've been carrying with them on the mission."
That had Natasha glaring at the phone and Clint growling just a little.
Spencer ignored them. "I'm not in the mood to play games, Jason. We both know there's no way SHIELD is going to want me to continue to work for them. Not after this."
There was the sound of Jason letting out a breath, but Spencer recognized the sound and knew that Jason was about to cut straight through the bullshit and give it to him straight. Sure enough… "I won't deny that sticking you to work with anyone other than Hawkeye or Widow is going to be almost impossible. Too many things were said for people to just forget them and move on. But that doesn't mean that SHIELD doesn't want you around anymore, Spencer. It just means they're going to want you in a more contractual, as-needed basis."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning that SHIELD still wants you on their payroll, but it's going to be only an occasional thing. Kind of like me."
That… that was a lot better than Spencer had been hoping. He still had a job at least. Only, he had no idea what he was going to do with his free time. If SHIELD only wanted him occasionally, or only for solo jobs, that was going to leave him with a lot of free time. "I don't…" Pausing, Spencer closed his eyes and shook his head. "It's amazing, Jason, don't get me wrong. But I can't just do part time with this. I don't know how to do anything else. This job, this is my life."
"What if I could offer you a new life?"
That had everyone on the porch suddenly paying a whole lot more attention. Clint's hand came down on Spencer's shoulder, holding tight, and the young genius could see Laura holding on to Clint while Natasha had gone tense. Spencer looked at his family as he asked Jason "What do you mean?"
"What would you say to the opportunity to come and work with me, not just at SHIELD but at the BAU as well?"
Spencer's eyebrows shot up. Work at the BAU? As a profiler? The idea held an immediate sense of appeal to him. There was no way Spencer could deny that he'd thought about it before. Using his mind, his skills, to save people, to not be the one pulling the trigger but the one stopping someone else from pulling that trigger… oh, it was definitely appealing. But it wasn't that simple. "I'm not even twenty yet, Jason. They're not going to let someone this young into the Bureau. And that doesn't even begin to touch on the subject of being a mutant, or anything else."
"You being a mutant won't be a problem." Jason said immediately. "Despite public opinion, the Bureau has been known to hire a mutant. I'm not saying that we tell them everything, but if we say that you're a mutant with a healing factor only, and we have a SHIELD doctor back that up, there won't be an issue. As for your age, you are correct. The Bureau won't take someone who isn't even twenty. But, they will take a twenty-one year old genius, if we play our cards right."
It all sounded too good to be true. Spencer wanted to believe it, so badly, but he didn't know if he should. This just… it seemed too perfect.
Clint met Spencer's eyes and must've been able to see something in them, because he took over the conversation for him, asking the things that Spencer couldn't seem to. "This all sounds a little too neat, Jason. How long have you been planning this, exactly?"
If Jason was surprised by Clint's presence on the phone, he didn't show it. Nor was he the least bit ashamed as he answered him. "In the back of my mind, a while. But officially? About six months. I wanted to be able to give you options, Spencer. A place other than SHIELD where you might make yourself at home. This is a chance for you to decide who you want to be. Do you want to stay at SHIELD, stay Erinyes, and work to rebuild your reputation? It's possible. With the right kind of work, you could eventually gain back trust, move back into being a full time agent. It won't be easy, but you could do it. Or… do you want to make yourself into someone new? You could go to Caltech for the next year, establish yourself as Dr. Reid, maybe add another degree or two to your name, and then come time, you could come to the BAU and make yourself a whole new life."
Though Spencer looked to his family for help, no one said anything. They didn't try and influence him one way or the other. Laura reached out, smiling at him as she laid a hand on his arm. "We'll back whatever choice you make, sweetheart." She murmured to him.
Clint and Natasha both nodded their agreement. "Either way, you'll still be ours." Clint reassured him. The fierce look Natasha gave backed that up.
The idea of joining the BAU, it was definitely appealing. For once Spencer might be able to save more people than he hurt. He'd be able to do things that the rest of his team wouldn't, help in ways they weren't capable of. He'd be able to save people. Most of Spencer's life had been spent hurting people around him, either by accident or design, and his soul ached from it. There was so much red in his ledger. This… this might be the perfect way to make up for that.
A smile ghosted over Spencer's lips. The fear and guilt he'd been living with this past month faded away just the slightest bit. Clint, Laura, and Natasha all smiled back at him. They could see what he was going to do before he did it.
Still smiling, Spencer said "What do I need to do?" and committed himself to his new life. The time to be solely Erinyes was over. He'd still pull her out once in a while, on the occasional job for SHIELD, but it was time to make himself someone new. It was time to see just what kind of person Dr. Spencer Reid could be. He just hoped it was finally someone he could be proud of.
THE END