Notes:

TW: offscreen mentions (extremely brief and not specific) of torture and near death.

Another season, another birthday, another winter and spring.

Kate left, Tara joined up, JJ had a baby, Morgan was in love and Reid remained.

Except that his mother was struggling. Her schizophrenia flaring up in a way he couldn't explain, second and third and fourth attempts to dial in a new medication failing to bring her relief. Every time the caller ID displayed the name of the institution, Reid anticipated more bad news. It was high time for a visit, but he didn't explain the real reason for his uncharacteristic request for three weeks off.

Hotch let him go, and he didn't learn about the target on Garcia's back until he had already been in Las Vegas for a day. The desire to return was quickly dampened by the distress of his mother's condition. Morgan, Rossi and Hotch would look after Garcia. He had his own mother to attend and soothe.

(S11 E:7 Nov 11th 2015)

Montolo was dead, poisoned for revealing the next target of his network: The dirty dozen.

The four remaining hitmen were in the wind, but they had still managed to kill him where he sat in prison, being

Derek found Garcia in his office, sitting in the dark and trembling.

"It's me."

"Who's you?"

"The dirty dozen- is me. I was going back through everything and I found something, someone has been counting me, I used twelve botnets, twelve, Derek, I'm next."

"This is for my own protection, that's what Hotch said, either I stay here or they ship me out of state and make me live in some musty old safe house and never let me call, and what good would I be there? None, that's what, at least I can do my job, and see everyone and know they're safe." Penelope muttered as she fluffed the pillow and tucked the sheets on the futon in JJ's old office. "As soon as I have my things, I can make this place a little more homey. I just hope Anderson doesn't see-"

A knock on the door interrupted her. "Special delivery for Penny?" Two figures stood outside her door, boxes in hand.

"Olivia!? You're here! How are you here?" Penelope shrieked, waving Olivia and Anderson over to the now empty desk. "You can put my stuff there, thanks. Oh my gosh!"

She hugged Olivia tightly the moment she set down the box she was carrying and Anderson left, closing the door behind him.

"What are you doing here? Is she…?"

"Hotch called, I went with Anderson to your place, Sergio will be safe with me. And she is in preschool for another two hours."

"Preschool? Gosh, I can't believe she's getting so big."

"I know, I can't believe it's been a year and a half already." Olivia looked around the office and then went to the box she'd brought in. "I packed the delicates for you, don't worry, I didn't let Anderson into your bedroom. And, I brought a few little friends along to make this place a little more… lively."

"You didn't…" Garcia gasped as Olivia passed her a potted plant. "You did! I was so worried my babies would die."

"I didn't get them all, just the ones that I could carry, the big ones I left with your neighbor Kathy."

"If I've never said it before now, I want you to know: I love you!"

"I know Penny," Olivia grinned and patting her arm and lifting a small cactus. "Now where do you want this guy?"

Garcia unpacked her boxes, chattering all the while with Olivia and trying to make this small fragment of normalcy last as long as she could.

"Sorry Penny, but I have to go, I have to be at the school before 2."

"Right, yes, of course, I've been keeping you too long, its just this whole situation is bonkers and I feel like I can't get enough air in here."

Olivia wrapped her in a hug and whispered "it's going to be okay; you've got the best protectors in the world right outside this door. Breathe in." She looked her in the eye and lifted her arms under Penelope's, "just like that, and then out." lowering her arms for a count of three. "again?"

"Yes, please." Penelope couldn't help the shaky voice or the tears, but she breathed with the movements of her friend and finally released her with a long sigh. "You have to come visit, ok?"

"I… Spencer… I don't want to make it difficult-" Olivia sighed at Penelope's pleading expression both hands clasped together. She rubbed her face and conceded, "get Derek to text me if the coast is clear."

"Little Melia, too? I just hate the thought of being stuck in here for weeks, and not seeing you. It's only been 24 hours and I already miss fresh air and sunshine."

"Yeah, ok, I'll do my best, stay safe Penny."

"You too. Give Meli and Sergio a kiss from me!"

Olivia was just waving her farewells from the elevator when another woman rushed up and she held the door for her.

"You're a friend of Garcia's?"

"Yeah." Olivia answered with an easy smile as the door slowly closed on the frenetically window-waving Penelope.

"Tara Lewis; I don't think I've seen you around here before."

"Olivia, and you wouldn't have, I don't make visiting the FBI Headquarters a habit."

"Olivia..." Tara raised her eyebrows. "I have heard that name before."

"Nothing bad I hope."

"Not at all." Tara said with a smile, "not at all. This is my stop."

"Have a good day." Olivia offered as the other woman stepped out.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Olivia."

Penelope's mood rose and fell at a feverish pitch.

First worried-mad, then absolutely oppressively-cheerful in her confidence that the team would get the hitmen before a week had passed, then when the Libertad angle didn't immediately pan out, falling back to a desperate low.

Late night omelets with Hotch helped, as did the little garden troll Rossi brought back for her. She planted it in the little tray of wheat grass Olivia had brought her. A few snips of the scissor prepared a little nest for the troll and created an aroma of fresh green grass cuttings that made her simultaneously happy and sad.

Reid returned from Las Vegas just as the case was beginning to break. Three weeks with his mother had been long enough to see her angry and manic and depressed and finally, something like comfortable. Long enough to realize that there was more than schizophrenia at play. Alzheimer's.

It brought a perspective to his life. So too did his mother's lack of a filter when it came to talking about his future.

"I'm sorry about the geneticist. I am, but you can't stay sad about it forever, what about the other one, the… oh, what was it again…? She makes things, what…"

"Books? You mean Olivia?"

"Olivia… No, I don't think that was her name. You've got me all mixed up again Spencer, the book lady though- why not settle down with her?"

"Uh, we're not, I'm not friends with her anymore."

"Why not? I want grandchildren before I die."

"I…" Reid considered lying to her, but he couldn't bring himself to do it, for as little cognition as she'd had these past few weeks, to add a blatant untruth to her confusion was unfair. "She said she loved me, but I couldn't love her back."

"Did you try?"

"Try? No- Olivia was my friend, and I loved Maeve, I couldn't."

"That excuse can only get you so far Spence. I know you get all wound up inside your head about things, but you can't stop trying because the first one doesn't pan out. I wouldn't have had you if I gave up the first time things got difficult. Love isn't just butterflies, my dear boy, it starts there sometimes, but it's so much more than that. Couldn't you try? I just know you'd be a great father."

"Olivia and I…" Spencer shook his head, not knowing how to make her see his reasons, decided finally on something that wasn't quite the truth, even if it wasn't an outright lie. "She can't have kids."

"Oh, you really liked her didn't you... I'm sorry Spence"

"Yeah, I'm sorry too Mom."

A change came over Diana's face and she backed away from him hastily. "Who are you calling mom? Who are you?"

Admitting to Cat Adams that his mother was forgetting him, that he was losing her and might someday have the same illness robbing his own memories one piece at a time was difficult enough to stomach. But her final taunt cut deeper than he expected.

"In 20 years, I'll still know who you are, but you won't even remember my name."

Ironic that he was now afraid to lose memories he'd once tried so hard to forget. The memory books he'd begun to create now took on added meaning and he resumed writing in them, though he no longer addressed his words to Helena.

Helena was just Olivia by another name. And he'd burned that bridge. But moving on wasn't nearly as easy as it had sounded when it fell so cold from her lips.

He really thought he had done it though.

There was routine and commonality in his life again, his hand didn't hover over his cell phone anymore, expecting a message. Instead, he drew from memory the things he treasured and people he didn't want to forget, in a Coptic-stitch bound sketch pad with a simple blue pressed-paper cover. If his thumb occasionally caressed the small makers mark on the back cover, he didn't over think it.

Even Garcia was finally warming to him again and he didn't feel like she was a second away from telling him off every time he was alone in a room with her, but she was a little cagey still when it came to certain things. The child's drawings she tacked up in her office for one thing, she never would say who had made them, and given that the stick people all had springs coming out of their heads, it wasn't Henry, he preferred spikes.

And the new 'World's #1 Auntie' mug had caught even JJ by surprise, Tara had joined in and the women had whispered furiously in the corner about it for a minute and a half, and Garcia and JJ had both looked at Spencer twice while they conferred.

Last he'd heard, her brother wasn't speaking to her and he wondered if a baby had brought the family back together. That didn't explain the looking and the secrecy. But then, Garcia had been upset with him ever since he and Olivia parted ways, a fact Derek had explained after a series of very dirty looks on the days after that fateful Karaoke night and two entire cases where she didn't print anything for him, and he'd had to get his own paper copies and been late for all his trouble.

Perhaps the mug and the secrecy was just Garcia's idea of long term revenge.

Reid had bigger things to worry about than Garcia's mysteriousness though.

Another year passed and a sketchbook of green and yellow joined the blue one on the very top of his shelf.

Derek survived being kidnapped, had been tortured, nearly died. Something Spencer was uniquely positioned to understand. He was right to leave to make a safe home for his son, but Reid couldn't deny that it hurt to lose him. Everything interminably changing around him, Hotch in hiding from Scratch, Emily returning to take his place, Alvez and Walker joining the team.

Everything spinning on and on, a kaleidoscope that never would return to the initial picture.

His mother was now declining rapidly and the research programs he'd attempted to enroll her in were refusing to take her. Logically he understood why schizophrenia as an underlying disease would confuse their results, but this was his mother and those trials were seemingly her last chance.

Spencer Reid was still a certified genius, and he was determined to throw himself at this problem until it buckled under his weight. There had to be some way to control the outcome. There had to be something he could do.

Every spare moment spent reading studies, sifting through the research, reading papers on theoretical medicine and homeopathy and herbs that had not yet been approved by the FDA in hopes that somewhere in the mountain of possibilities and conjectures he could discover something. And he did, but he had to go to Mexico to get it.

(S12 E:11-12)

Diana was unhappy about the move, she loved her son of course, but this wasn't her home, she missed her friends and the strict schedule that meant she didn't have to make decisions when she was unsure of what to do. And whether or not she was always aware of it, she was watching her son losing her, Spencer wasn't her smiling and sweet little boy anymore. He was anxious and stressed out and bitterly angry just below the surface.

Why there was water on the floor Diana couldn't understand, but she helped as best she could to pick up books and dry off the woven wood basket that held the living room's throw blankets. Those would have to be washed, but the basket itself didn't seem effected. Spencer took it from her and inspected it thoroughly anyway, his brow furrowed, finally wiping away a few drips, he set it on a towel and returned to the other things.

Days later Reid was storming around the apartment, muttering under his breathe and running his hands through his hair until it stood on end in every direction.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what happened, but I'm sorry." Diana said in a brief moment of startling clarity.

"You didn't do anything Mom, you don't have anything to be sorry for." Spencer answered, softening his tone at once.

"You're mad, all the time, I can see it! I might not be straight in the head all the time, but I'm not blind yet."

"Not mad at you Mom, none of this is your fault."

"What's that on your cheek?" Diana said suddenly noticing the red handprint marking her baby's face. "Who did this to you?"

"Oh, I- that must have happened at work."

"I don't like this FBI business, you shouldn't be around people who'd do that to you, you're too special."

"It's something I have to do Mom." His voice cracked on the last word.

"I know. I just, I love you, so much Spencer. No mother wants to see their child hurt, no matter how old and cracked I get."

"I love you too Mom." Spencer said. There were tears in his eyes, but he blinked them away before his mother returned to her foggy state, having forgotten the thread of the conversation entirely.

Reid was angry. He was angry that life seemed bent on taking everything from him. His mother. Morgan and Hotch, Maeve and Alex and Olivia.

Emily's return to the team was a welcome reprieve, a sliver of the old comfortable dynamic, and Luke and Stephen were fitting in alright, but it could never be the same again.

And Diana was losing bits of herself and memories of him every day, in a way that no earlier grief could have adequately prepared him for. The secretive trips over the border to procure the untested medicine that could hold onto her memories for a little longer was wasted on the bottles she had poured away so cruelly.

Reid was angry, but he wasn't giving up, not yet. He just had to schedule a little time off and arrange for another shipment.

Simple.

If only it were ever so simple.

Notes:

Here we go...