Disclaimer: I own the television with Criminal Minds on it right now. I do not, however, own Criminal Minds. Not entirely sure of who does, but it's not me. I do, however, have the rights to Lorraine and any character NOT in the show. If you wish to use Lorraine or any of her buddies, ask me nicely. There is a reference in this story to my wonderful sister's Criminal Minds/House crossover. She's on here as kchan88. You should go read her fic "Variations on a Theme" to see what the teeny reference in here is all about. Don't worry, you'll still be able to understand this fic!
Ch. 4 – Something's Up With Jack
Spencer had no idea why he'd suddenly found himself shooed out of Lorraine's apartment with more vague something about Hawkeye and the vet. Being a profiler for even as long as he had, he could tell when someone was lying. The question was why would Lorraine lie to him? He had never detected that in her before, so what made her start now and why about something so flimsy? Even so, he went mildly along with it, making a note to figure it out later. From what Morgan had told him, putting up a fuss would just end badly for him. So, he continued on down the street, shielding himself with his coat collar. Snow had started to flurry again.
The genius barely noticed the walk/ride back to his apartment, still trying to think over what had just happened. He had gotten through his head very quickly that Lorraine was not like many women. She didn't hide terribly many things that he was reasonably aware of. Okay, there had been one time she yelled and chucked a pillow at his head when he found some old writings of hers. But, that actually proved his point. If he did something wrong, she let him know about it. Privately, he thought that things might go better for the world in general, particularly in his line of work, if more people handled things like she did. Shaking his head so that he didn't walk into the door again, he found his keys.
He couldn't say he'd had a bad time with Lorraine last night. All the movies had been pretty enjoyable, actually. Well, really he enjoyed watching Lorraine enjoy them, and boy did she… You didn't have to be a BAU genius profiler to tell that she had grown up with Christmas being the high point of her year. From everything he had been told, that was how it should be. Okay, no, it didn't make any sense to dwell on any of that. Grinding his teeth, he shook his head and clonked on into his living room, left less neat and tidy than usual.
Over on the stand, the television practically called to him, so he drifted over, flicking on the box. Chuck Jones's "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" was already a little bit in, Thurl Ravenscroft's deep voice blaring out the speakers. Spencer dropped onto the couch. Very sharply, his tailbone hit one of the wooden bits where the thing came together and he swore out loud, kicking his legs. Gripping his behind, he stood up to inspect the couch, resettling over a smidge. Feeling green and furry himself, he watched the Grinch take the decorations. All the Christmas specials – even this one – weren't his favorites. Ugh… The remote was all the way over there…
So he continued to watch Chuck Jones's signature animation style flick across the screen until he heard a knock at his door. Now who the dickens could it be at this time of the morning? Hmm, he thought, maybe Mrs. Rorstrom had crashed her computer again. She sometimes popped round to have him see about things like that. The knock came again. Mrs. Rorstrom normally didn't knock multiple times. Come to that, she probably wouldn't have been up at his apartment at this time of day. Spencer pulled his gun out of the end table, hid it behind his hip, and made for the door.
"Who is it?" he called, trying to keep his tone just tiny bit edgy. For good measure, he added, "Do you have any idea what time it is?"
He heard good-natured laughter on the other side of the door.
"Open up, Pretty Boy!" commanded Derek Morgan's voice from outside. "It's cold out here and you're going Christmas shopping!"
Spencer rolled his eyes at the slab of wood in front of him.
"You should never have taught me contextual use of the phrase 'up yours'," he called back. "I'm going back to sleep! You go Christmas shopping and let me know how it goes!"
Morgan, rolling his eyes at the other side of the door, raised a hand and banged on it again.
"Come on, kid!" he yelled, feeling his phone buzz in his pocket. "Having some fun that doesn't involve Iron Man isn't going to kill you!"
There was a moment of annoyed silence, Morgan blowing on his hands before reaching for his phone.
"I prefer Captain America and you know it!" Reid shouted back hotly. "And I do have fun that doesn't involve him – sometimes I read DC!"
On the phone, there was a message from Garcia asking how much time Morgan thought he could guarantee her and Lorraine. He didn't have the heart to tell his Baby Girl that he might have to actually pry the boy out like a nail. Scrunching up his brow, he messaged her back 'give me a minute.'
"Reid, do not make me go all FBI and kick this door in!" he bellowed at the door.
He got no reaction, so he leaned heavily on the door, yelling in surprise when it gave under him. Standing mildly on the other side, Spencer simply looked at his friend and coworker in something like amusement. Grumbling, the other man righted himself from his shaky footing and checked his phone again. It was 9:30 in the morning and heaven only knew how much time the ladies would need. So he thumped Reid on the shoulder in greeting and told him to get his…
"Wait a second," said Morgan, looking the younger man up and down. "Why do you look like you slept in your clothes? Everything okay, kid?"
The immediate appearance of maroon in the pale man's face told Morgan that everything was indeed fine, but of course he couldn't leave it at that.
"Is this me walking in on your personal version of the walk of shame?" he teased, watching the maroon face turn violently purple. "You and Lorraine have a good night last night?"
Spencer yelped in consternation.
"We watched movies!" he protested, trying to straighten out his shirt and sweater. "Let's just go, before you cause every capillary in my face to explode."
Lorraine pulled up in her favorite parking area for the Espresso Hut, parking her silver Civic and patting the steering wheel as she got out. She circled round and told the back passenger side to 'sit.' Hawkeye's furry butt hit the seat, sitting as best he could – the car was almost too small for him to be upright. Telling him "GOOD BOY!" in a loud, high-pitched voice, his mama opened the door. Taking the handsome leather leash, she told him to get down. The two ambled up the snowy sidewalk to the Espresso Hut. A middle-aged gent held the door open for them and the young lady behind them.
"Welcome to the Espresso Hut!" called Bobby, waving at the newcomers over the milling crowd, noticing the regular and adding, "Oh, hey Lorraine!"
She waved back and scanned the crowd, looking for someone who might be easily identified as a Penelope Garcia. Hawkeye sat down beside his human mama, drooling and grinning at everybody in the place. A little girl walked up, tugged Lorraine's skirt, and asked to pet him. Given the go-ahead, the tiny brunette with the gap-teeth gave the giant dog a hug. Her mom came and took her hand, so she told the dog "Merry Christmas!" and they left. Lorraine stood on her toes and saw a blonde lady waving amiably at her.
"Come on, Hawkeye!" the redhead tugged the large black-and-white dog through the crush of people. The place had to be at capacity or close to it, she thought. She approached the blonde at the table, smiling at her brilliantly red pea coat and the hand-knit fun-fur scarf round her neck. "You must be Garcia! I've heard so much about you!"
The technical analyst wasn't really a hand-shaker – she stood up to give Reid's girlfriend a hug.
"In the flesh and at your service!" she all but sang, jumping a bit when she felt a large, wet nose on her hand. Bending down, she took a closer look at the dog over-top of her candy-cane-framed cat-eye glasses. "And who is this handsome gentleman? Are you cheating on my boy genius already?"
Lorraine laughed and rumpled Hawkeye's ears.
"No, this guy was already in my life – had him since he was ten weeks old," she assured the other woman. Hawkeye doggy-grinned obligingly, compelling Lorraine to make use of the towel under his chin again. "Well, come on, have a seat! Let's get started!"
Garcia beamed a red-lipstick-clad smile, which Lorraine returned – the blonde approved of the redhead's own taste in lipstick.
"I like the way you think," praised the analyst. She gestured at the table, announcing, "I got us both hot chocolate – hope that's okay!"
The redhead grinned appreciatively and shoved Hawkeye's nose off the table.
"I adore hot chocolate – thank you so much!" she told Garcia, picking up her drink and smelling cinnamon. "Now… Okay, right to it: I want to construct a Christmas wonderland in Spencer's apartment. But first I need to know something – why does he have as much Christmas spirit as Mr. Bogardus?"
The blonde took off her glasses, both brightening and looking crestfallen at the exact same time.
"One, I love that movie," she started, shrugging out of her red coat to reveal a chunky-knit green sweater with Mickey Mouse in a Santa hat on it. "Two, it's a long story. Do you want the novelization or the Reader's Digest version?"
Lorraine blinked, continuing to work on her hot chocolate as Hawkeye settled down on her boots, panting. She considered for a moment… In order to really understand, she would need the whole story. For today, however, the two ladies had to work under a time crunch. Heaven only knew how long this guy Morgan could guarantee them. This Garcia seemed trustworthy – matter of fact, she had this air of all-knowingness about her. They could probably get by with the quick version as a good step forward.
"Let's go with blog-entry to start off with." She already enjoyed that she and Garcia were on so much the same wavelength that they spoke the same code. Well… okay, the same literary code – if this lady started talking in binary or something, then Lorraine thought she might get lost. When Garcia asked how long a blog entry, the redhead said, "Maybe five-paragraph essay format?
The tech-analyst/hacking goddess/emotional Super Glue of the BAU took a deep breath and started into the story.
"Okay, introduction: I'm sure you've gotten by now that our wunderkind is nowhere near normal," she started, to which Lorraine nodded. "Not sure how much of this is my place to tell, so I'll give you the basics. His mother is a lovely, wonderful woman, but she happens to be in an institution. Now, that is such extremely sensitive information… Breathe a word of this to him and you will be answering to me and I am not a good person to answer to. Underneath the candy-coated happy bubbly exterior, I am a tiger. Got it? Good. So anyway, holidays were not exactly a terrific thing for the boy wonder growing up."
Lorraine continued playing with Hawkeye's ears, processing this. So far, nothing terribly unusual – she saw all kinds in her work as a speech therapist. And yes, she totally understood not telling Spencer that Garcia told her any of this. Both women understood that the genius would let on when he was ready. The line 'If you tell me, I'll still act surprised' went through her head. She nodded to let Garcia know to continue. The blonde in the Mickey Mouse sweater did so.
"First paragraph: this is also information that is not to be breathed," Garcia went on, replacing her glasses. "If you talk in your sleep, tell me now and I won't say another word."
The speech therapist shook her head, flapping her red braid about.
"Nothing but a codeine-induced stream of babble when I had my wisdom teeth out eight years ago," she informed the analyst.
Garcia took another deep breath, not really sure how to proceed with this next bit except to just forge ahead.
"Spencer is a recovering Dilaudid addict," she told Lorraine bluntly. When the redhead opened her mouth, a Christmas-tree-manicured hand went up. "And before you say anything, it wasn't his fault. We deal with the absolute sickest, most awful people you could ever possibly imagine. Hannibal Lecter, the Jigsaw killer, Mike Myers, Jason – they've got nothing on these guys. This guy Tobias Hankel abducted my precious boy and I don't know exactly what happened… If I did know, I'd have probably had his ass resurrected just so I could enact my terrible vengeance, but anyway…"
She sort of trailed off after that, trying not to spill hot chocolate all over everywhere – her voice had gone up on that last part and some people stared.
"O… kay… not doing that again," the blonde lowered her volume sheepishly, ducking down to pet the giant dog and earning a tail-wag. "But yes, paragraph two: obviously, we have a difficult, dangerous, soul-sucking job. We all have our ways of dealing with it. Me, I act in local plays, generally rock, and collect fuzzy cute things. Our boy genius reads books, watches cartoons, and plays chess with Asian kids in the park. If you ever want to make his day entirely, call someone a mewling quim within earshot of him. Anyhow, this job is not exactly forgiving of personal schedules. We know less about holidays than people in show business. FYI, skinny's favorite is Halloween if that tells you anything."
Lorraine just smiled at all of this, once again reaching into her purse for that ratty towel as Hawkeye for some reason licked her tights. True, her schedule, being in business for herself, came out a lot more flexible. However, she understood, on some level, the mental and emotional strain. People didn't think of speech therapy as being all that trying, but she had seen some touching things. Autistic kids, stroke victims, soldiers with PTSD – there were many who needed her help.
"And we have point three," Garcia piped up when she got the go-ahead from Lorraine. "Last year, we had another major incident. It's recent enough that he may actually tell you about this himself – he's getting better like that. It was almost a repeat of the Hankel incident. Lady's name was Kelly, there was a dual kidnapping, a stabbing, and now ding dong! The bitch is dead! I was a bit damaged myself over that one, so forgive me glossing over a bit? Kinda already feel a little guilty for spilling this much, but it's for a good cause…"
Fiddling with her braid, the speech therapist smiled in a different way and raised her hot chocolate to the lady in front of her. Garcia understood the gesture, returned it, and pushed Hawkeye's head out of her lap. The large dog left a wet, snout-shaped drool spot on her Minnie-Mouse-polka-dot skirt. Oh well… It'd dry in a minute or two with how much heat they had going in this place. She took one more deep breath and set to finish her story.
"In conclusion, even though they tell you never to conclude your conclusion by saying that," she exhaled all on one breath, gulping in more air after. "Doctor Spencer Reid has been through a lot in his young life. It sounds like an after-school drama to say that, but he really has. I think it was a great day when your dog nearly flung him into a fountain, actually. Okay, I know I've been talking to you for less than fifteen minutes, but I think you two are going places. He's a good guy and I can tell you're pretty darn wonderful yourself. I called Morgan just after getting off the phone with you and our time starts now!"
Garcia and Lorraine both tossed back a healthy amount of hot chocolate like Vikings in Valhalla. In the ensuing laughter, Lorraine choked magnificently and spit it all over Hawkeye.