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Author's note: To those worried the romance between Spencer and Linda is going to take over the whole story, don't be. I'm not a romance writer. I did focus on them for the last chapter because I wanted to establish the relationship, but other than a few short ones, Dave will either be mentioned or actually in any scenes with the two. Linda will stick around because I want Reid to be happy, but the father/son aspect between Spencer and Dave will continue to be the focus of the story.
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Chapter Twenty-Eight
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May 4, 2015
Dave threw down his copy of the Washington Post onto the seat beside him. Then picked it up again. Then put it down again. He tapped his foot and thought about calling Fran. Deciding against it, he cursed the oblivious father of the six brats running and screaming around him as he squirmed on the hard seat in the waiting area outside the Air China arrival gate at Dulles.
What the hell are you so nervous for? It's Reid.
He cursed at himself this time. It's Spencer, he corrected. Your son.
The thought came unbidden: That's the crux of the matter, isn't it?
Suddenly in no mood to look at the world, Dave grabbed the paper up yet again and snapped it open fiercely, not quite ready to be honest with himself.
They had emailed back and forth nearly every day (Dave finally convincing Spencer to actually use the damn laptop the Foundation had given him because waiting for snail mail to come from Asia would drive him crazy), and to his great surprise, Dave had found Spencer to be a surprisingly enjoyable correspondent. Expecting to have to endure voluminous letters full of dry statistics and rambling monologues on obscure historical events, Dave learned that Spencer's writing was open, honest, and even occasionally humorous (though Dave wasn't always sure if those instances were intentional). Perhaps freed from the self-conscious aspect of physically being present - worrying over tone, expression, phrasing etc. - or being able to edit himself at his own pace, (or merely being a natural writer, just like the old man, Dave considered proudly), Spencer seemed more relaxed, and instead of having to fake an interest for the sake of Spencer's feelings, Dave eagerly read everything, from Spencern's self-deprecating efforts at learning to speak Pak Tai to his colourful accounts of visiting the Angkor Temples in Cambodia or seeing Mount Everest.
Or maybe Dave was just excited to hear from his son.
Over the weeks, Dave shared some things with the team - Spencer's description of a Chinese "Keep Off The Grass" sign ("Tiny grasses are shyly smiling and would not like to be interrupted"), how the people around him called him a 'Farang' which he had later learned was simply a term for a non-Thai, his favourite street vendor dishes (currently Rojak, a dessert served in Penang) - but, increasingly, they were small, innocuous things.
Dave shifted uncomfortably, lowering the paper to his lap.
You know why that is, don't you? It's the same reason you're jumpy and anxious now, his conscience told him.
He was spared from thinking about it any further when a voice called out from behind him, "Dave! Uh…Dad!" Shooting to his feet gladly, he rushed off to meet his son.
-x-
May 5, 2015
"Sleeping Beauty awakes! And just in time for dinner!" Dave exclaimed as he loaded a plate with grilled chicken and risotto and passed it to the grumpy looking figure shambling into the kitchen.
Spencer glared at him blearily before nearly breaking his jaw around a massive yawn. "Sorry," he mumbled.
"Jet lag?"
Spencer nodded, eyes drooping. "The condition is linked to the trans-meridian and travelling along an east-west or west-east flight line," he droned mechanically. "People travelling along a north-south axis who feel jet-lagged are usually just suffering from travel fatigue. And travelling east is more problematic than travelling west due to the body clock needing to be advanced and the necessary exposure to light to do so not matching the circadian cycle of the destination."
Dave smiled. "You know, I've really missed you."
"If that was sarcasm, I'll forgive you if you've got coffee."
"It wasn't. I genuinely missed your rambling."
Spencer raised a suspicious eyebrow.
"Yeah, I know, it surprised me too," Dave said as he poured Spencer a cup of espresso.
"Must have something to do with being a father. You know, like parents being able to sit through their child's starring role as a potato in their third-grade play."
"You were a potato in your third-grade play?" Dave asked.
"I wasn't even in third-grade; I skipped right from first to fourth. No, I just meant in general. You know, parental bias, that kind of thing."
"Ah." Dave sat down and they started to eat. "So," he asked, gesturing with his fork at his son's face, "you gonna keep the chin fuzz?" meaning the trim beard that Spencer was sporting.
"I haven't decided yet. I only grew it because I misplaced my razor in Nepal, but Linda liked it, so I don't know, I might keep it. Why, what do you think?"
"Makes you look like a Rossi."
"Is that an approval?"
"Are you kidding? All these sad, sad men, just walking around without the advantage of the possessing sheer masculine charisma of the Rossi male, I tell ya, it gets to me right here," Dave joked, tapping his fist lightly against the left side of his chest. "That you can share in it fills me to the brim with fatherly pride and joy."
"I truly have no idea how to respond to that."
"Your tan helps too. I didn't even know you could do that; you come from Vegas for Pete's sake, and in the seven years I've known you, you've never been anything but practically translucent."
"May I point out that nearly the whole time you've known me, I've been living in D.C.? Besides, a lot of people in Vegas aren't tanned."
"Yeah, tourists who never step foot outside the casino for a week. But what I'm trying to say is that you look good."
Spencer cocked his head at him, puzzled. "Really?"
"Well, Linda likes you, doesn't she? How are things going with her anyway?"
Spencer's tan couldn't hide his slight blush. "Good," he said.
"Just good?"
Dave watched with amusement as Spencer looked down shyly, while still smirking. "Very good," the younger man said.
"Ah, you see? The Rossi charm is working its magic! So, have you said anything to the team yet?"
Spencer shrugged. "No, not really. I'm surprised that none of them have asked, though. Haven't you told them?"
"Uh… no. I guess I never got around to it. Too, I thought that you know, maybe you wanted to keep things private for awhile."
The smile that Spencer gave him lit up the room to such a degree that Dave couldn't help but wonder how he didn't have fifteen grandchildren yet. But as he listened to Spencer thanking him sincerely for respecting him and his privacy like that, Dave felt a pang of guilt.
"No problem, Kid," he said. But he was quiet for the rest of the meal.
-x-
May 8, 2015
"I take it that wasn't the reason then?" Hotch asked.
Dave lifted his drink and let a large sip slide down his throat and warm his belly before his answered. "It's hard to explain it without me coming off like a petty shit-heel," he finally said. "But… Christ, I don't know…We'd just gotten to a good place as father and son, a place where we could start building a strong relationship, and then BOOM! he's gone half way around the world, and somehow things started slipping back to how they were and it scared the crap out of me. And now, just as I was digging myself out of that stupid pit, BOOM! he's in love and she's more important and she's the one he talks to about what's bothering him and…"
"And you're jealous."
"Yeah. I know it's stupid, and it's something fathers are supposed to go through with teenage daughters and not their fully grown sons, but we never had any real time together. I don't think I'd feel so insecure now if what we had wasn't so fragile or hadn't been so short. But what do I do? Wish another unhappy ending on the Kid? Ask him to delay moving on with his life just so we could do the father/son thing for a little bit longer? I mean seriously, how much of a small-minded, selfish jerk am I to even want that?"
"You're only a jerk if you actually ask him that. Wishing it, however, is fairly normal. Not good, but normal. Jack's not even ten yet and there are times when I come home and want to spend time with him after being gone for a week, but he wants to go play at a friend's and I let him go because that's what you do. You get a few golden years when you're their whole world, but then they start spreading their wings and you're standing there watching them slowly fly away in fits and spurts, knowing that some day it'll be for good."
"Jesus, Aaron, drink something - you're depressing the hell out of me!"
"Can't. I have to pick up Jack later."
"And now you're depressing me for an entirely different reason."
"Sorry. But isn't Reid at home now? Why aren't you there, enjoying what time you do have?"
"He went to the movies with Morgan and Garcia. I didn't want to horn in."
"Oh. So back to Linda - did you really keep it quiet because you're hoping the two of them would fail?"
"No, not really."
"I didn't think so."
"I don't know what it is. I think I kept quiet because I just wanted to keep that little bit of him for myself. I wanted to know something about him that the whole rest of the world didn't. I want to be able to say I know him better than other people do."
"So that he's your son, versus our former team-mate."
"Yeah, I guess. He looked so different at the airport. I nearly didn't recognize him and the shock it gave me threw the whole 'not knowing' him thing into sharp relief. It's irrational, but the beard, the short-hair, the tan, his being thinner but somehow stronger and healthier looking…it all makes me feel like he slipped away from me and I didn't even notice. Hell, even his posture is different. He stands taller, yet more relaxed."
"More confident," Hotch suggested.
"That and, just…"
"He moves more easily now, like someone who's well-rested and more at ease."
"You've noticed it too? I mean, he's been run off his feet for fourth months straight, on the road even more than we've been, jet-lagged as all get out, and yet for the first time in his life, he looks like he's not going to jump right out of his skin if you say 'hi' to him without warning."
"The benefits of being happy."
"So tell me, Aaron: does that mean he was never happy here?"
-x-
"So we were on the Badaling section of the Great Wall, and I was talking about how this portion had been a strategic position since the Spring and Autumn period in the eighth to fifth centuries B.C. and how historically it was used to protect the Juyongguan Pass and that it was the highest section of the Jundu mountain, when everyone around started looking at me, even this tour guide leading a group up on my left, and for some reason, all the Chinese tourists wanted to have their pictures taken with me - "
"Who's 'we', Tall, Dark and Furry?" Garcia asked with a smile, walking home from the movies arm and arm with Reid while Morgan walked closely on her other side.
"What?"
"You said 'we' were on the Great Wall."
"Oh, just Mr. Huang, the project co-ordinator. He graciously spent a few days showing me around the city."
"Oh."
Reid was surprised how easily and naturally the lie come out. Even if Garcia had been suspicious or prying instead of merely curious, he thought he probably would have fooled her.
What he didn't understand was why he lied in the first place.
-x-
May 17, 2015
They were out for a walk in the woods with Mudgie, not far from Dave's cabin (Spencer was diligent about exercising his leg), when Dave stopped.
"Kid, were you happy here?" he asked out of the blue.
"What, you mean at the cabin? Yes, I was surprised, but I actually found being out here far more pleasant than I expected."
"No, I mean here, in Virginia, at the Bureau. On the team."
"I'm afraid I don't understand."
"You go away for four months, and now you come back and for the first time in all the years I've known you, you look like you've had more than three hours sleep and aren't running on vapours. You smile more. You're more… here. Not standing in the background watching everyone warily. Is it really just being in love?"
Spencer thought about it seriously for a few moments. "That's a large part of it," he said as the two men resumed walking. "Being happy, the ego boost of someone liking me, feeling so deeply understood, but there's more too.
"Part of it is the confidence from knowing that I have the ability to rebuild my life. That being able to do a job and be successful and find friends wasn't just a fluke the first time, or a result of the team's taking pity on me," Spencer went on, then he sighed. "And then there's also being freed from the idea of becoming schizophrenic that was always hanging over my head. I told Linda how I didn't even know how much it had oppressed me until the threat was gone, but now, as the months have gone by and it's starting to sink in more, I realize I didn't even understand it then when I was talking to her. It wasn't just about not inflicting that kind of burden on someone who loved me, it was about always monitoring myself. There was always a mantra in my head. Don't get mad or be oversensitive, or you'll look paranoid. Don't over-react because you'll seem volatile. Don't get mad or be combative - "
"Or they'll call you crazy," Dave guessed.
"Sometimes," Spencer confided, his voice growing softer, "the worry wasn't that someone would call me crazy, but that I would truly be crazy. That I really would be over-reacting, or discover I was screaming over something because I genuinely was paranoid."
Dave was horrified. "I can't imagine being so watchful all the time."
"To be honest, it was just one more thing running around in my mind. Keep quiet or you'll upset Mom. Don't let them see you or they'll hurt you. Stay off the radar or they'll take you away from your home." Spencer halted suddenly and stared at the ground. "That was one of the hardest things, you know. About becoming your son. It was knowing that maybe if I'd grown up in another family, I wouldn't be like I am. I'd be better or stronger. That I wouldn't be riddled with all the insecurities that came from the worries thrust on me." Dave saw him look up and smile thinly. "Who knows, maybe I would have become a world-renowned scientist and cured cancer or schizophrenia or male pattern baldness by now."
"Kid, you might have been happier, but there's no way you could ever be a better or stronger man than you are right now."
Spencer didn't say anything, but only looked at him as if too scared to believe what he was being told.
"Besides," Dave added, "Who the Hell cares about male pattern baldness? What you should really work on is curing whatever dumbass impulse causes them to do a comb over."
Spencer gaped at him, and then began to laugh. They walked back to the cabin and that night, after drying Mudgie off from his swim in the creek and having a good dinner of beef stew, Dave heard Spencer call to him from the other bed.
"I forgot to tell you the biggest reason."
"Yeah?"
"Having a real Dad instead of just the coward who ran off."
Dave was almost too choked up to speak. "Didn't know you were so mushy, Kid," he said hoarsely after a few seconds.
"Didn't know you were either, Kusojijii."
Dave threw a pillow at him. "Get your ass to sleep, Saputello!"
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