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Chapter Six
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Spencer Reid liked logic. Most people were under the impression that logic and basic humanity - especially human emotion - were somehow incompatible, that logic could not be useful when dealing with the "real" things in life, but he had always found that notion a little too simplistic. Could logic completely solve every human dilemma? No, but it was silly to use that excuse to utterly dismiss it.
In his case, logic had often helped him as a child, particularly in those early, dark years just after his father had left. Helped him from crying out in fear in the blackest hours of the night when he lay sweating and clutching at the sheets in panic, terrified that no one loved him, that his father had left because of him, that his mother only cared for him because she was mentally ill and therefore didn't know any better. It was logic that told him it was wrong to speculate on his father's reasoning in the absence of evidence (and that, sadly, his mother's illness was the far more likely cause in any event). Logic that reminded him that his observations of his mother disproved his theory, as her affections for him were the same, if not greater, in her most lucid moments.
So, upon being violently thrust out of sleep by a nightmare in which he'd turned invisible and all his friends had left him, he lay there staring at the ceiling and compulsively kneading the bedspread in his hands, and attempted to calm himself with reason.
Mistakes must be made on birth certificates all the time, he considered. Surely having the wrong date of birth and wrong city of registry does not automatically invalidate it. It does not make me some sort of Orwellian "un-person". I am still Spencer Reid, so let's start there.
The birth certificate may not invalidate my identity, but the abduction might, another part of his brain argued. Rossi and his wife did not legally give me up - provided I'm even their son in the first place - so wouldn't that nullify the adoption? Yet, at the same time, I technically cannot be James Rossi because he is listed as dead.
Those are nothing but the finer legal points, he chastised himself. Yes, they matter, but they don't really change who I am.
Don't they?
As Reid ran from that thought, a new one occurred to him: would Rossi expect him to change his name?
Whether he does or not doesn't mean anything, Spencer protested inwardly. I am under no obligation to do so. I've had this name for thirty-two years; I've never known another. All of my degrees are under this name. I've built my professional reputation under this name. I even have a namesake in little Spencer Johnson. No reasonable person would ever expect me to change it now.
He sighed. Except Rossi. And likely Garcia. And Hotch. And all the rest of the team who will feel sorry for Rossi and who will probably regard this whole mess as some sort of heart-warming fairy tale and want their happy ending.
Rolling over, he punched his pillow a few times in a futile attempt to get comfortable. Thinking about the team brought on a whole host of new dilemmas.
Am I supposed to care about Rossi more than the others now? If a choice came down about who to rescue in an emergency between him and, say, Morgan, who would people expect me to save?
You save who you can save, his conscience said.
That ignores the consequences. Guilt. Doubt on the part of the rest of the team and how they would see me after; how we would work together. If I saved Morgan, they might feel I'm lacking in proper human feeling, but if I saved Rossi, they'd perhaps worry if they'd end up in the same position - sacrificed to save another simply because he was family. Honestly, there are definitely legitimate reasons family members do not work on the same team together. And what does it say about the team's relationships in general? How are Rossi and I supposedly more important to one another now than we were a week ago? The whole thing suggests an artificial quality: the team loves each other like family until, that is, two of us find out we actually are a family. Does blood really trump water? Does an accident of birth really change everyone's place in our hearts? Is Rossi suddenly supposed to be closer to me than he is to Hotch, for instance?
What answer do you want? he asked himself.
Spencer was unsure. In his heart, he couldn't deny that if someone was going to call themselves his father, he wanted them to be a real father. Whether it was William Reid or David Rossi was immaterial; it might be childish, but he couldn't bring himself to believe it was unfair to want to be special in the eyes of a parent. Yet, it felt exactly that way when thinking about the rest of the team, and that made him sad. Mainly though, he was hesitating because he simply didn't trust in this new set of emotional parameters. He couldn't see himself changing so much overnight, and he most certainly didn't see Rossi's affections towards him shifting so dramatically for any other reason than suddenly having his fantasies of a living child come true. If Rossi now loved him more, it wasn't because of himself, it was because he was being thrust into the role of the phantasm of James.
Is that what I'm really afraid of? Of what's going to happen if I let Rossi in, only to be let down again? To have my heart broken by another person I can't depend on?
That's silly. I have many people I can depend on!
Really? So why am I not talking to one of them?
Quit the evasions, his conscience argued, now taking on a voice of its own. Hotch would not expect you to go completely without consolation.
Hotch may not like me going without consolation, but that is not the same as expectation. He did give off a very strong impression that this should be kept under wraps.
You're just prevaricating now.
I don't want to go to Morgan because I always go to him. He must get tired of it. And it makes me feel like a kid, running to him with every problem, especially considering he apparently doesn't feel he can do the same.
Or that he doesn't really like you that much, but just gets off on playing the older brother.
Spencer smiled as logic rescued him. He'd seen Morgan's expression after Hankel, and the way he'd run up to him on the lawn after he'd been shot, not to mention learned from the nurses just how long Morgan had been waiting for him to wake up when he had anthrax. Reid was a trained profiler; Morgan might enjoy the big brother role a little too much, but Reid knew the man's friendship was genuine. One response did not preclude the other.
So go talk with him, his conscience urged.
He's with Savannah.
Garcia?
Sam.
Blake.
James is home for the week.
I suppose that leaves J. J. out as well.
Spencer paused. Logic did not work without honesty, so he could not lie to himself. He absolutely DID NOT want to go to J. J., but he couldn't fool himself and say it was because of Will and Henry.
Reid rolled over again and sat up. Rising and pulling on his robe, he went to his kitchen to put on a pot of coffee.
Things between he and J. J. were... strange. On the surface, they seemed to be doing all right, perhaps even better than they had for the last few years. But, at least to Reid, it felt as though the two of them were walking a tightrope, purposely being as nice to each other as they could in order not to fall.
He wasn't going to talk to J. J. It would be too much of a burden for her right now. Yet, at the same time, he had to face the fact that he was - secretly - almost in a rage with her at times. The occasional snide remarks she made these days he let slide; he knew what she was going through, after all. It was not merely about needing to assert your own strength after being forced to be vulnerable, he thought as he poured out a cup of his special blend and then sat at the table. It's animal instinct, that primal drive to lash out against anyone threatening you, and, when you were already in pain all the time, anyone who even made moves to come close counted as threatening. J. J.'s first unconscious instinct would be to push him away for the same reason he'd been so bad to Emily after his own kidnapping, because he knew she'd been about to prod at the wound. So he had to balance holding back from J. J. while also being close by for when she needed to reach out, and she had to balance that urge to push him away because she feared he'd want to bring up the subject while at the same time telling herself it wasn't his fault. (Unless of course it was, he asked himself, for not forcing the issue when he knew she was lying.) Consequently, they danced around each other and played nicer than usual, afraid of the likely explosion to come.
But there was still that anger. He knew it was wrong to try and make this all about him, but it killed him that even after the debacle with Emily's "death", and even after knowing what he'd gone through after not being able to save Maeve, J. J. had deliberately kept him and the team from helping her, and look what had almost happened. Once again, he'd almost lost another woman he loved because in the end she couldn't bring herself to trust them, because she didn't have faith in their being able to help. She cry that she was under orders, but when had that ever really mattered to the team? Hadn't they shown they were willing to trample on about a dozen orders to save one another? Didn't she have the slightest clue what the guilt would have done to them if they'd failed because they hadn't known in time?
And she had LIED.
Everyone in his life lied. It seemed to be never-ending. And wasn't that the real problem in the end? It wasn't that he felt offended at being lied to, or that it hurt his ego, it was about being able to depend on each other. And how could you depend on people you couldn't completely trust?
As he sat there in the cold glare of his kitchen light, he was forced to admit that he didn't quite trust the team anymore. And if he couldn't trust them, how could he call one of them "Dad"? Hell, "Dad" was already the name of someone who had lied and run out on him. Yes, he could now understand - at least somewhat - the position William Reid had been in, caught between love and devastating guilt, but at the same time it was hard to get around the issue that the man had left in order to find his son's real parents and give him back. How on Earth was anyone supposed to feel about something like that?
And his team - he knew they cared for him, but could he depend on them? Maybe J. J. wasn't that wrong not to trust them, he reflected ruefully. Even though it hurt at times, he didn't fault them for building their own lives apart from him, for finding people to love and starting "real" families, when he'd lost Maeve. However, the three times in his life he'd needed his team - his "family" - the most, hadn't they let him down every time? They'd left him to sink or swim on his own with his addiction. They'd lied and even cruelly manipulated him after he'd suffered his first real loss with Emily's death.
And they hadn't saved Maeve.
Family forgives though, especially when they know that realistically they're not being fair, and so he'd stayed with the team. But what would happen now?
Despite the coffee, he went back to bed. For a turbulent twenty minutes he even managed to sleep, dreaming that he was standing on a crumbling meteoroid, and that every time he took a step another piece fell away from beneath his foot and floated off into space.
-x-
The next day at work was quiet. Reid had been afraid of prying questions, but J. J. was lost in her own little world, Blake was simply a less intrusive person by nature, and the rest of the team were mired in their respective offices catching up on paperwork. In this atmosphere, Reid had mostly managed to calm himself by mid-morning - logic may not always bring emotional comfort, but it could aid in finding stability, at least when one was awake - when an email abruptly popped up on his screen.
It was from Hotch and addressed to both him and Rossi. "Please come to my office," was the only line.
"Anything the matter, Reid?" Blake asked, looking up from her work. J. J. shot a concerned glance over as well.
"What? No, I'm fine. I just have to talk to Hotch about something."
To his own ears, his voice had sounded off, but since neither of his two co-workers said anything before turning back to their own work again, either he was being paranoid or he had covered well enough not to set off their internal alarm bells. He rose, to all respects looking perfectly normal (he hoped) and made it to the bottom of the stairs when he and Rossi spotted each other.
Reid locked eyes with him, unable to tell what the other man was feeling, not even quite sure in fact what he himself was feeling beyond a certain sense of irrevocableness. It was a momentous moment. Quite possibly, in the next few minutes both of their lives were going to change forever.
Rossi gave him a just barely perceptible nod, as if to say, "There's nothing else I can do, but I am sorry," and then walked on towards Hotch's office without a word, leaving Reid to follow behind.
"Please shut the door, Reid," Hotch asked after both men had entered. Reid did and then he and Rossi sat down across from their Unit Chief.
"Do you know then, Aaron?" Rossi asked.
Hotch gestured to an over-sized envelope on his desk. "They were delivered a few minutes ago. I haven't opened them yet."
Reid saw Rossi open his mouth and then close it again. For some reason, he was surprised to see that Rossi was just as nervous as he was.
"Before we begin," Hotch said, "I should ask if you are both ready for this."
" 'Ready' is a loaded word, Aaron," Rossi replied.
Reid said nothing - he was suddenly frozen. In fact, over the next few minutes he only had the barest awareness of what went on. One moment Hotch was looking directly at him with such a serious look and saying, "Spencer, your DNA is a match. This says you are Dave's son," then the Earth lurched, he was unexpectedly on his feet with no recollection of standing, and then suddenly Rossi's arms were around him. Panicked, he went rigid. Rossi, sensing it, pulled back and let go, his expression both sheepish and a little hurt.
"Sorry, I..." Reid said, his voice hoarse. "I didn't mean... it wasn't you..."
Rossi nodded, but couldn't quite look at him yet. "It's okay, Kid. I understand. You're probably more than a little freaked out right now."
That was an understatement. He had an abrupt and overpowering urge to make a dash for the door. "Just a bit," he mumbled instead. He watched (with some envy) as Rossi collected himself, then felt the other man's hand on his shoulder.
"Look, Re - uh, Spencer - sit back down for a moment, would you?" When Reid did, he found Rossi staring down at him seriously. "Don't talk, just listen," the older man instructed him. "I want to be your father," he went on, and Spencer saw a look that suggested that Rossi was just realizing that now. "I want it more than anything. You may or may not believe that, but it's true. But we're going to play this how you want, okay? I'll promise you now that I won't bring it up at work, so don't worry I'm going to ambush you at the coffee pot for an emotional confrontation. As for the team, well, that's your decision too. What we tell them, when we tell them, whatever - you make the call. And - " Dave took a deep breath, "if you never want to tell them at all, then we won't. Do you understand?"
Reid could only stare open-mouthed at him. He had no idea what to say. Finally, he swallowed hard and shakily bobbed his head in agreement. Shock, gratitude, and sorrow assailed him all at once.
Hotch cleared his throat. "Actually, I'm glad you brought up the work issue, Dave. I really hate having to put this restriction on the two of you, but for now, I would prefer that this wasn't talked about in the office at all. And if we're on a case, it would be better if you didn't even talk about in the evenings. I know this sounds unreasonable, but I need to know that while you're on duty, your heads are in the game. I hope you can understand.
"In that vein, however, " Hotch continued, "since we're not on a case at the moment, why don't the two of you take the rest of today and tomorrow off?"
"No!" Reid exclaimed, then blushed at how loud he'd been. "No. I mean, that's all right. I want to come in. I don't want any time off." Beside him, Rossi shrugged and said, "I'm good," but Reid didn't miss the bleak look about the older man's eyes. I'm so, so sorry, he wanted say, but his mind was a jumble and he frankly couldn't form the words. "Is it all right if I go now?" he asked (almost begged) instead.
"Go ahead, Reid," Hotch said.
As Reid rushed out the door, he was too distracted to know someone outside had seen him fleeing his boss's office.
-x-
"Well, that went well, didn't it?" Rossi said.
"His whole world has been turned upside down, Dave."
"And mine hasn't?"
"Yes, but you're getting back something you'd lost. His entire sense of self has just been obliterated."
"He practically ran out of here! Someone who didn't know what was going on would've assumed his ass was on fire!"
"He wasn't that bad."
"Oh no?"
"Dave," Hotch said softly, "do what you said you were going to do and let him make the calls. It was an extremely good impulse on your part. If he feels he's got a certain amount of control, he'll calm down that much quicker."
"And what do I do if he says no, Aaron? 'No, I don't want you to be my father.' Should I just lie down and accept that my own son doesn't want me in his life?"
Hotch sighed. "Well, I suppose the good thing is that you at least know what you want now."
Rossi laughed bitterly. "I guess I do. But what the hell does HE want?"
"I don't think he knows himself yet. But I will say this: he may be able to get by without you, but that doesn't mean he doesn't need you. Just do your best to show him he can trust your word and be patient."
"I don't think I've got that much patience, Aaron."
Hotch smiled. "No father ever does when he first starts out."
It all hit Rossi then. His breath hitched and he saw Hotch looking at him with alarm, but he couldn't for the life of him stop what was about to happen. "Christ, Aaron! It's true! I really do have a son!" Suddenly tears were washing down his cheeks and suppressed sobs were tearing at his throat. "Jimmy! I have Jimmy back! My little boy's alive! He's alive!"
Hotch got up and came around the desk to place a hand on his friend's shoulder. He stood there the entire time David wept.
-x-
Weeks went by and, other than Reid avoiding Rossi like he was an IRS auditor who did dentistry on the side, everything went on as normal. Several of their teammates were a bit puzzled as they noticed Hotch refusing to pair Reid and Rossi up while they were on cases, but apart from that, no one seemed to find anything amiss between their oldest and youngest members.
Dave, meanwhile, was trying to remain patient, to give the kid his space, but it was getting harder and harder as time went on with no sign of Reid relenting. This particular day had been discouraging and so he had told Hotch he was sick and went home early.
It must have been that damn song, he thought as he sat mindlessly in front of his tv that night. Simon and Garfunkel's "Scarborough Fair" had come on the radio while he'd been out with J. J. and Morgan, and it had taken him right back the hospital ward the day after he and Carolyn had been told about James.
Neither of them were speaking and, while he was holding her hand, it seemed they couldn't bear to look at one another. As the radio played softly in the background from the nurse's station down the hall, he stared out the window, watching the rain. Carolyn seemed to be staring at absolutely nothing at all.
"I don't want to go yet," she'd said listlessly.
"All right," he told her. Inside though, he was screaming. He couldn't stand being in that damn hospital any longer. He couldn't understand how she could.
"This is where James is," she'd finally said.
Had she said 'is' or 'was'? Rossi wondered now. Had she only meant that that was where James's body still was, or had some mother's instinct told her he was still in the world? Rossi racked his brains to try and remember the other women on the ward. Had Janine, or Amanda or Elizabeth or whoever the goddamned hell she had been, still been there? Maybe with terrified eyes locked on them as she lay there holding their Jimmy only a few feet away?
I should have felt his presence, Rossi berated himself. I should have recognized him somehow! For the love of God, I should have at least fucking demanded to see him, to make sure it wasn't all some stupid, terrible mistake!
Mudgie came and snuffled around his knee with a whimper. Dave stroked the smooth fur on the dog's head. "Fine. I hear you, boy. No sense to wallowing about what I should have done now, eh?" If only it really was that easy.
Dave turned off the tv and was about to head upstairs to bed when the phone rang. Caller I.D. didn't offer the number, but Dave picked it up anyway. "Hello?"
Just as he was about to repeat himself, the voice on the other end blurted out, "Do I have grandparents?"
Dave wanted to cry and cheer at the same time. "Hello, Spencer." It must be his home phone, Dave thought irrelevantly.
"Do I... do I have grandparents?" Spencer shyly asked again.
"Carolyn's parents are gone, but mine are both still alive."
"Really? Sorry! I didn't mean it to sound - "
"It's all right, Spencer, I know what you meant. I remember you saying before that you didn't have any grandparents of your own. I hope this is a nice surprise for you."
Reid didn't reply to that, but instead asked, "Could you tell me something about them?"
"Anything in particular?"
"No, anything's good."
"Hunh, it's hard to know where to start... Okay, Pop was born here in the States, but Ma came over from the old country with her family when she was eight. They met while skating at Rockefeller Center; Pop was seventeen, Ma sixteen. They got married right out of high school. He went on to be a carpenter and shop teacher and she clerked for awhile at a grocery store before she had kids. They live at one of those retirement places that's almost a nursing home, but not quite. It's nice though."
"Do they know about me?"
"No, not yet. I didn't think it was a good idea to get their hopes up. Not until I knew... not until we figured things out first."
"I'm sorry."
"It's all right, Spencer. Besides, the minute I tell them, they're going to be on the first plane here and they'll push themselves into your life whether you want it or not."
There was a soft snort on the other end.
"Is there anything else you'd like to know? Maybe about your mother?"
"No. I'm... I'm not ready for that now."
"Sure."
"Rossi?"
"Yes, Spencer?"
"This isn't a rejection of you. I feel like my whole world's been blasted apart, but whatever happens, I'm not... This isn't because I think you would be a bad father. I think you would have been an excellent father."
"Kid, I don't know what to say. Thank - " Dave began, but Reid, undoubtedly overwhelmed, had hung up.
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Author's note: I hope the long chapter makes for huge wait. (I think it's been exactly a month!) Thank you to everyone who reviewed and also thanks for all your best wishes. The leg is healing - it's more of an inconvenience now than anything - so I'm hoping to be back to normal soon. And to the reviewer who broke her/his leg: I hope you're getting better too! My leg was never as bad as that. Is the cast off yet?
