Chapter Nineteen
.
.
Spencer, dragged out of slumber by the sensation of an invading cold spot along his right side, opened bleary eyes to see Dave edging the still sleeping Henry away from him. "I'm just going to carry Henry to J.J.'s car for her, and then I'll be back," Dave whispered to Reid after noticing that he was awake.
"Actually, Dave, could you wait with him just outside for a bit? I… I'd like to talk to Spence."
Dave glanced over at him. Reid reluctantly nodded. "Okay, then. We'll just be in the waiting room down the hall," Dave said.
J.J. bit her lip and nodded her thanks. After Dave had left with Henry, J.J. sat down. "So, how are you?" she asked, not quite able to look at him.
"As well as could be expected, I suppose."
"That's good." Reid noticed how she was worrying at the hem of her blouse, just as Henry had done with his shirt. In other circumstances it might have made him smile, but now, when neither could think of what to say next, it only increased his inward sense of agitation. Glancing around for a distraction, both of them seemed to notice at the same time that the television was still on. He had fallen asleep while watching a documentary on lemurs, but now it was showing some sort of program on making cakes. As the silence between them grew longer, both of them pretended to watch with avid interest as a very exuberant baker described the difficulties of working with fondant.
It wasn't until the baker started assembling another cake, decorated like a little girl's princess castle, that J.J. spoke again. "I was pregnant in Afghanistan," she abruptly announced, never taking her glazed eyes from the screen. "I lost the baby."
He gaped at her, horrified. "I'm so sorry, J. J. I don't know what to say."
"You don't have to say anything, Spence. I don't know why I'm telling you this now. I wasn't… I mean, I'm not trying to manipulate you into feeling sorry for me or anything. I just…" She broke off and swiped a quick hand at her eyes.
"J.J, it's okay. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to."
"No, I…" There was a soft sob. "I wanted you to know why I've been like I've been," she sniffled and it was a long time since Reid had seen her look so young. "This isn't going to make much sense," she went on, "but after I lost the baby, it's as though I had to be tough. Not just to get through it, but because I had to believe I was a real agent."
"I'm afraid I don't understand."
"If I was a real agent, then I had to be there and so it made losing the baby simply an unavoidable accident. But if I wasn't… If I was just some silly press liaison being used by people much smarter than me and in way over my head, then the baby died because of nothing more than my own stupid vanity."
"J.J, they forced you to go!"
"No, they didn't, Spence," she hoarsely explained. "I could have said no. I could have returned home the minute I found out I was pregnant. I could have told them that I wasn't a profiler and to get someone else. For God's sake, even if there wasn't one single female profiler in the entire military or CIA or NSA, there was already one staring them right in the face! Emily was the profiler, not me. She had experience working undercover and outside the U.S. and she has a facility for languages, but it was me they wanted! The goddamned press liaison! Why? Because they could use me. Because I'd do whatever they manoeuvred me into. And I was too damn smug for being chosen to see it."
"J.J…"
"No, Spence. It's true. I was so cocky at being chosen and so eager to please that I completely ignored the fact that I was barely an FBI agent and thought that I could handle being pregnant in the middle of damn war zone! Of course though, I didn't admit that to myself. Instead, I kept telling myself that it was my duty, that I wanted to help, that after what they pulled by forcing me off the team that my demanding to leave two seconds after arriving would look like some kind of childish and petulant power play, but in the end it was because I didn't want to look like the 'weak little woman' running home and leaving everyone in the lurch simply because I had a case of the vapours.
"So I stayed. And my child died because of it.
"But you know what's funny? In the end, running home was exactly what I did. Oh, I toughed it out for awhile for appearance's sake, but when Rossi came along and offered me the chance to throw myself back into the sheltering arms of the team, wasn't that the same thing? I even trained for a job I had never, ever wanted, just for the chance to have the 'family' protecting me again."
For the first time, she turned to look at Spencer. "That's why I've been so hard on you since I've been back. On everyone really, but you and Garcia most of all. I had to believe I was stronger than someone, more worthy to be on the team, and not just back because I was running away from the big, bad world. Running from my own stupid mistake and the fact that I was a failure - "
"You can't honestly believe that?" he asked.
"Aren't I? I failed as a mother. I failed at the State Department. What does it matter that it was forced on me? I still couldn't make a go of it. And…"
"And?"
"And I've spent the last three years trying to be strong, trying to convince myself that I was tough enough to handle all of this, but I'm not. All I really am now is more brittle and afraid. Like a porcelain vase, living in terror every moment that one more knock and I'll shatter. Before, I was strong enough to be able to show gentleness, even to let myself be vulnerable, but now… I felt - feel - that if I broke now, there wouldn't be any putting me back together.
"So, like a coward, I pushed everyone away, especially you and Pen. It would be nice to say it wasn't because I saw you as weaker, but because you are - were - the two closest to me and most likely to see the truth, but I think I really was that foolish. That shallow. I picked the most superficial criteria imaginable to judge by, and then purposely blinded myself to everything else. And then all of a sudden you were saying you were going to leave. I could see it: you were going to go out there and be a big success and right away I couldn't handle it. It would have destroyed all my illusions about myself that I had built up so carefully. So I tried to undermine your confidence and make you stay. I diminished your importance and your worth because I couldn't stand to see you succeed where I had failed."
She rose to her feet and came over to the bed, her face crumbling as she finally broke down. Bending over, she sobbed onto his shoulder. "And then you risk your life to give me the greatest gift you possibly could have!" Embracing him tightly, she hung on for all she was worth as desperate sobs wracked her small frame. "You saved my son!"
-x-
"Are you all right, Spencer?" Dave asked him that evening.
"Fine."
"You've been very quiet ever since J.J. left."
"Sorry."
"You've also been a bit more monosyllabic than usual."
"Technically, that's not true. 'Sorry' has two syllables."
"My mistake."
Spencer found himself fidgeting, twisting the cord to his call button for no reason. He was too tired to read, but the television seemed to be filled with the same ubiquitous program about cakes that had been on most of the afternoon. Despite the light outside, he knew that it would only be another hour or so before the night nurse came on duty and Dave either left or got kicked out, but he was restless. Or maybe anxious was a better word. "Dave," he said quickly, before he could back out, "Does it make you a bad person if you learn of a friend's tragedy, and yet still feel like you're not entirely ready to forgive them?"
Four months ago, Spencer reflected, before the two of them had found out they were father and son, a question like that would have undoubtedly (and somewhat ironically) caused Rossi to do the gruff 'Dad' thing: dispensing advice after worming the answer out of him as to why he was asking (excusing his interference with the unspoken-but-always-there 'it's for your own good' defence), and he - just as undoubtedly - would probably have taken it. But at this moment Spencer found himself dreading it. Knowing that he was probably only oversensitive at the idea being steered or cajoled now that the father idea was an inescapable and all-the-time proposition, rather than just an occasional burst of overbearing paternalism from a colleague, didn't help alleviate the tension as he waited for an answer.
Perhaps Dave was working through the same thing. "I don't think so," the older man finally said after some long moments of thought. "Emotions don't really come and go when we snap our fingers, do they? They can take awhile to dissipate, even when up here," he said, tapping a finger against his temple, "we understand they might be wrong."
"What if even 'up here' we're not sure?" Spencer asked with the same gesture.
"Then maybe there are other things going on that haven't been settled."
Spencer relaxed somewhat, curiously pleased that Dave's good opinion of him didn't seem to have suffered any dents, but was still upset by the day's emotional revelations. Guilt, sadness, worry, and half a dozen other emotions roiled within. "I suppose so," he agreed, a little flatly.
"Is there something you'd like to talk about?" Dave asked.
"No."
"All right."
"Dave?"
"Yeah?"
"Can you stay a for awhile longer?"
"Sure."
-x-
As the days progressed, Spencer was often distracted from thinking about him and Dave, yet never quite able to escape it completely.
The day after J.J and Henry's visit, he finally agreed to let the rest of the team come see him. "But one at a time," he told Dave, "and please not everyone on the same day!" The visits were awkward and stressful for the most part, and though Reid was glad to get them over with, they reminded him of several painful matters that certainly didn't help in any way in regards to his situation.
One of the things holding him back was the feeling he would be unconsciously diminished somehow in the eyes of the team, and just at a time when he was contemplating admitting a relationship that would tie him to one member permanently. Before, they had been a group of seven individuals - equals, at least for the most part. But now he was essentially being dropped down to 'one of the kids', on par with Jack and Henry. While that was fine for them, being eight and five, it wasn't for him, seeing as he was old enough to be father to both himself. He possessed more understanding of social nuances than anyone believed (certainly more so than two boys whose ages were still measured in single digits), but most of the time he didn't care - he'd been a misfit his whole life, after all, so why make a fuss? However, this was his team, the one place he'd almost fit, and he was damned if he wanted to be reduced in their eyes if he was going to be stuck dealing with them every time he came home to see his father.
Another matter was the idea of giving up the habit of depending only on himself. Beyond the fact that if he ever did, the very minute he stopped everyone would immediately forget that he'd ever done it at all, was getting past the panic in his belly at the very thought. Years of not being able to ask for help as a child, of drawing further and further into the little world of just him and his mother - not only because of the threat of being taken away by CPS or staying off the radar of adults who would take advantage, but also because of both the need not to break (break once, easier to break again) and the reality of bullies who are merely egged on by weakness - had made wariness a conditioned response. A response, additionally, that had occasionally been reinforced by the team's letting him down. He knew that wasn't entirely fair to them, but for a man with an eidetic memory, those times didn't fade like they might have for others.
The largest obstacle though, was something he expressed to Garcia when she asked why he and Rossi hadn't told the team sooner.
"Because I didn't want the whole team nagging me and pushing me into position where I'd have to hurt Dave!"
"We wouldn't do a thing like…" Garcia started to say, and then she grimaced. "Well, okay, uh maybe that was a good call. But how would you have hurt our Italian Stallion?"
Reid winced. "Could you stop using that nickname, Garcia?"
"Why? What is it about that name that's setting off the robot's danger alarm, Will Robinson?"
"It carries new connotations now that I know it was my mother he was playing the stallion with."
Garcia snorted. "Ooops, sorry, 187! I didn't know you were so squeamish."
"It's not a matter of being squeamish, Garcia. I am well aware they had sex; my existence alone points to that. But 'stallion' suggests a certain…exuberance, even violence in the action - "
"Got it!" Garcia exclaimed. "No need to go further."
"You're the one who called him that. Unless you're angling to be my step-mother, perhaps we could dispense with the sexual innuendos entirely when it comes to Dave? And, also, if you could never again refer to me as the little boy from Lost In Space, that would be appreciated too."
"Oh, my fluffy cream cake, you do know how to spoil a girl's fun! But, on the other hand, I am a little weirded out by the idea of becoming your step-mother - no offence - and so I am willing to tone down my awesome goddess-like powers of description when it comes to the team's best dresser. However, we're getting away from the topic of discussion, namely: how would you end up hurting Rossi?"
"Because I still don't think of him as a father," Reid confessed quietly. "He's still just a friend. A very good one, but not a father. And if I'm never able to think of him as more than that…"
Garcia placed her hand on top of his. "Oh, Sweet Pea, he doesn't want any more from you than you can give. He just wants you to try."
"I know, Garcia, but that wouldn't change how badly I would feel about it if things didn't work out. And then what would we do? Would I have to spend a lifetime pretending I feel more than I do, knowing all the while Dave was probably picking up on it, but not saying anything because he'd always be hoping things would change?"
"I hadn't thought of that," Garcia admitted.
"But now the whole team knows, and I have to deal with everyone's expectations. Not to mention everything's been so confusing since the accident. I'm having a difficult time differentiating between which feelings are genuine and which are simply caused by discomfort and being downcast at the idea of going through months of therapy again."
Garcia hugged him. He could hear the tears in her voice as she said, "Oh, my poor, sweet Boo."
Her actions weren't particularly helpful in making a decision, but Spencer was comforted by the idea that at least one member of the team wouldn't think of him as the bad guy if he couldn't be the son Rossi needed.
-x-
"I'm afraid we were actually hoping to move the date for the Africa project ahead," Professor Ito said.
"How far? Because I'm due to be discharged tomorrow. And I'm sure my physical therapy doesn't have to take as long as they say. Doctors need to err on the side of caution - "
Professor Ito looked regretful. "Six weeks."
"Six weeks ahead from the previous date, or six weeks from now?"
"Six weeks from now."
Reid slumped back against the bed. "Oh, I see. Well, I suppose that's it, then?" It was extremely difficult to hide the disappointment in his voice.
"Not necessarily. I've been talking to Mr. Lewis and there has been some discussion about setting up an Asia team. A recent benefactor has donated a house in Thailand which could be used as a base, allowing whoever is in charge there to cover a great deal of South East Asia at a much lower cost."
Hope flooded back through Reid and at that moment he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he desperately wanted that position. "Really?"
"Yes. There are still a few things to sort out - mainly gaining entrance visas and work permits for our people from the various countries - but we're hoping to have it going by sometime early next year. Now, as to hiring you for the job, I'm afraid I can't promise anything, but I personally would hate to miss out on having someone with your qualifications work for us.
"However, there are also your own legal matters - such as the problem of your passport being currently invalid - to deal with before we start looking into visas and what not. I consulted with the foundation's lawyers after you explained the situation when you accepted my offer, and they feel the matter can be settled relatively quickly if your biological father would consent to signing an affidavit that he accepts the validity of the Reids' adoption of you."
"That's all?"
Ito chuckled, "Billionaires tend to have very good lawyers," before growing serious again. "Of course, all of this is contingent on your physical condition and whether the foundation will be able to insure you. If not, well, they'd be willing to pass on any advice they can come up with after having studied the problem, but you would have to deal with the legal issues yourself, because - "
"Because the foundation wouldn't be hiring me."
"No," Ito confirmed. "At least, not for any job overseas. And most of our Stateside openings are for administration, and there aren't many of them."
"I understand."
"Try not to be too disheartened, Spencer," Ito said kindly. "I'm going to do everything I can on my end and, like I said, we won't know anything until early next year. That's at least six months from now. There's plenty of time for you to recover and be able to pass the insurance physical."
"I know you will, sir." Reid had always considered Ito a decent and caring man, remembering him as one of the few sympathetic friends from his time at Cal Tech.
"Andrew, please."
"Thank you, Andrew. I know you'll do everything possible." He reached out and shook the older man's hand when it was offered.
"I'll keep in touch, Spencer. I hope you get better very soon."
-x-
Reid instinctively knew the affidavit would be a touchy subject, and so he put it off by dealing with the dozen other chores sitting on his plate. While Dave sat nearby reading, Spencer arranged for his things to stay in storage for several more months instead of being shipped to California, called his financial manager to have the payment of his mother's medical bills temporarily revert to being withdrawn from the trust fund he'd set up for her, and made an appointment to speak with his insurance rep about attaining additional coverage for those things he'd lost by leaving the Bureau, as well as making a claim on his personal medical insurance to pay for the hospital bills.
"You could also talk about the fact that your odds of developing schizophrenia have dropped to those of an average person's," Dave put in.
Spencer bit his lip; the reminder was painful and awkward for him, but that didn't stop it from being true. "I'm sure that will come up as well," was all he said.
The next call on his list he hesitated about. Right now, Hotch not only had his power of attorney, but was also the secondary contact for Bennington and able to give permission for any emergency treatment his mother might need in the case that he, Spencer, couldn't be reached. Hotch had also agreed to take on guardianship for his mother, overseeing the trust fund and making decisions as to her treatment and long-term care in the event something happened to him. This had been fine while Reid had still been a member of Hotch's team, but now it seemed unfair to keep this burden on his former Unit Chief when the two of them might not see each other much more. But who to ask instead? He was hesitant to put that obligation on Rossi - not when they'd only been father and son for about three months and there was still every chance he'd end up seeing Dave as rarely as he might see Hotch - but Reid also had to admit he still felt closer to him than he did to William Reid, and the agent was certainly more trustworthy. On the other hand, William Reid was his mother's husband, and, as badly as he had acted, still obviously cared for his wife.
Reid froze, struck by a sudden realization. How sure was he that he still a legal right to be making these decisions? If the adoption was declared invalid, could his mother contest her committal? It was unlikely she would do that, at least not while lucid, but it could cause problems. And what about his mother's sister Ethel? She'd been angry at his sale of two properties left to Diana by their father, but he'd needed the money to pay off debts accrued for the last few years after his father's checks had stopped coming. What was left over had mostly gone to create his mother's trust fund, but he had used some to pay her bills from Bennington until he'd been hired at the Bureau. And he'd even used some - just a little - to cover whatever of his own needs at Cal Tech hadn't come under his scholarship. But if his Aunt Ethel made a case of it, arguing against his filial relationship to her sister and therefore his right to her power of attorney, she could contest the sale of the properties and possibly even have him prosecuted for fraud.
He turned to Rossi, who had gone back to reading his book. "Dave, I need to ask you something very important."
"Sure, Kid, anything."
"Don't say that until you know what it is."
-x-
It did not go well.
Reid could see the rage rising in Rossi's face like the mercury going up a thermometer. "You want me to do what?" the older man shouted. "Are you honest to God going to sit there and tell me that you want me to say that it's fine? That your disappearance and fake death didn't just about kill your mother and me? That it didn't destroy our marriage? That even now I'm not eating my heart out every day at what we were all robbed of? NO! It's too goddamned much!"
That's when it happened. Reid would always insist later that Dave never threw it, that the book simply flew out of his hand as he was waving his arms around, but truthfully he never knew for certain. One moment, Dave was yelling, the next he was flinching as something hard struck the left side of his forehead. Shaken for only a second, he looked up to see Dave go pale.
"Are you okay, Rossi?"
"I…uh…what? What did you say?"
"Are you okay?" Reid repeated.
"Uh…yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Jesus, Spencer, I didn't mean to - "
"It's all right, Dave," he interrupted quickly, reassuring the other man, who looked ready to go into shock.
"No, it's not. It's not all right," Dave continued, sounding almost in a daze.
"You'll have to pick up the book, Dave," Reid said, hoping to distract the other man from whatever was bothering him. "It's on the floor over here and I can't reach it."
"You're my son, and I…" Dave went on faintly, not hearing what Spencer had said.
"Dave, it's okay," Reid said. "You reacted badly - "
Rossi's voice cracked and his hands were shaking. "Christ, I didn't just react badly, Spencer. I threw something at you. I threw something at you, in anger, while you were laying there hurt and couldn't defend yourself. Even if you could have, that's no excuse. God, I've been married and divorced three times and never, not once, have I resorted to physical violence in the middle of an argument!"
Reid didn't know what to say.
"Is this the kind of father I would have been?" Dave went on.
"Dave, you shouldn't have done it, but I'm an adult. It's not like you threw the book at Henry. I don't even think you meant to throw it at me. It just slipped out your hand. That's all."
"I… I have to get out of here for a bit. I need to think." Rossi was out the door before he'd even finished talking.
"Dave! Please don't go!" Spencer called after him.
One of the nurses - thankfully, not nurse Foley who would have fussed too much - came in to see what the disturbance was. To Reid's embarrassment, he was almost on the verge of tears. He shook his head rather than explain, and after swallowing hard around a sudden lump in his throat, he asked her if she could pick up the book. She did and placed in gently on his lap. He stared at it blankly for a few moments while getting himself under control, then pulled it towards him to examine it more closely. It was a paperback edition of James Michener's Hawaii, very well-worn and from the cover art looked to be forty or fifty years old. Book-lover though he was, running a finger along a well-done repair on the spine he wondered why someone would bother taking the trouble for a copy that, by the price in the lower left corner, had only been 25 cents even when new. Curious, Reid used his good hand to open it and turn the first few pages, and there he found an inscription:
To Davy,
No matter what happens, always remember that you have a home to come back to.
Love,
Pop
Tracing the sparse script of his grandfather's hand-writing, he thought about the man he had yet to meet and the family he might have grown up in. What the words meant and what he could still have ran through his head for the rest of the day and into the night.
.
Apparently, angst is more of an addiction with me than I realized. But trust me, the fluffy parts are coming soon!
Anyway, my great thanks again to everyone who's reviewed, or even just taken the time to read and enjoy!
