Hi! Sorry for the wait, I've been too busy with final exams. Only one more semester and I'll be a graduate! (with a BA, that is -_- ).
Oh, and for those reading 'The Little Prince', there will be an update sometime this week!
Warnings: Blood. Mentions of torture.
While JJ was concerned Spencer continued to wake up for only a few seconds, and fall into unconsciousness again and again, the doctor assured her it was completely normal. He was, however, curious to why Spencer had woken up so early; even at all. He gushed that Spencer was "unusual, but remarkable". JJ wasn't surprised at the doctors assessment, after all, Spencer had never been "the usual" in any regard. The doctor pushed that despite his progress, Spencer was still badly injured and JJ needed to prepare herself for what might happen over the next few days: Confusion. Amnesia. Anger. Terror. Seizures. Mental Retardation. The words flew past JJ, and she pushed away the tears and the worry. Spencer wasn't going to be okay immediately, but she needed to believe he would make a full recovery eventually. One-hundred percent. After four years she hadn't given up on him, and she wasn't going to now. She continued to sit in silent darkness, watching for a finger wiggling or an eye flickering, waiting for Spencer to wake up for good, and to prove to the doctors just how remarkable he was.
Morgan sat across from JJ, with Garcia laying against his shoulder. He lazily traced his finger up and down her back, and kept his eyes on Spencer's face. He wondered what was going on in the kid's head. Did he know where he was? Who he was? What he was? Would he ever know again?
The room was completely silent, save for the ticking of his wristwatch, but Morgan's mind was as loud as a speedway. He didn't want to pray. The last time he'd tried to, Garcia had been shot and right then he'd decided nothing good could come of it. He didn't want to hope. Unlike JJ, he was prepared for Spencer's death. He knew heroes could die, and that good people could suffer. He learned that at ten when he watched his father get shot, and he had been constantly reminded of the fact throughout his career. Morgan didn't want Spencer to die, but he knew in his heart Spencer would rather leave with everyone remembering him how he was, rather than as a drooling, spoon-fed, bedridden invalid.
As Morgan stared at Spencer, he silently promised him that whatever happened, he would catch this 'Z'. He would personally wrap his fingers around the son of a bitches neck and squeeze, watch his eyes bulge as every ounce of life left his body...
"I'll get coffee." Morgan offered. He needed a break, and he needed to check in with the others.
Morgan leant against the stone wall outside the hospital and called Prentiss. Hotch would be too busy and Rossi would try to sugar-coat any new information that they may have, but Prentiss would give it to him straight.
"Emily, tell me you've found something."
Morgan heard Emily give an exasperated sigh. "Nothing about Reid." She said, he was their main priority after all. He was the only victim still alive.
Victim.
It wasn't right.
"Blood and remains from the victims, but nothing of the UNSUB."
"So we have no way of tracking him, what about the neighbors?"
"Four years, possibly more, and they never saw a thing."
"We have nothing?"
"We have a barn." Emily said. "Metal cages, fencing, wires. CSI's say it looks like he kept the victims in there before he brought them into the farmhouse. We need to check it out, and I could sure use your help."
"I'll be there in 20." Morgan said instantly. JJ and Garcia would just have to go without the coffee.
When Morgan arrived at the farmhouse, Prentiss was on the phone to Rossi. Morgan got a one-sided conversation, but understood that 'Z's' journals had documented every method of torture he inflicted, right back to 23 February 2004. There was no indication it was his first journal, or his last. For all they knew this was merely one of many, and left to show the FBI just what he could do. There was a high probability, given the fact he had baited the FBI and disappeared into thin air, that he would continue his killings in another state. The fact was, tracking him during another killing spree seemed to be the only way they would ever get to him.
"He gave everyone a number." Emily said as they continued through the slew of policemen and made their way towards the barn. "There's no way of telling who's who."
"Any clues to who the bastard is?"
"None."
"And still nothing about Reid and the box?"
"Nothing."
As they neared the barn, they were hit with a foul smell. Decay. In actuality, the building wasn't a barn, but a horse stable. 'Z' had enclosed each section with wire, creating several large prisons. As Morgan continued through the stable, he saw bloodied blankets, animal troughs filled with rotting food and a skeleton, half-buried by the hay. In one prison, there were rusty chains hanging from the wall, and Morgan imagined Spencer laying cold and scared, restrained by his neck. He physically shook that image out of his head, and set to work, tearing through the hay, desperate to find something they could use to catch the guy.
It was a little while later when Morgan heard Emily scream from the other side of the barn. He instinctively reached for his gun and ran towards her, finding her standing on the edge of one of the wooden gates, and staring down at the hay.
"Stay back!"
Morgan watched the hay fall in on itself, disappearing into a pit at the centre. Despite Emily's protests, he leaned in for a closer look. The cover of the pit had fallen in on itself, and the plastic was bubbling, fizzing, decaying in a vat of liquid, right before his eyes. It took him a moment to realize what it was, and another to understand what 'Z' might have done with it.
"Acid." Morgan said breathlessly.
At the hospital, JJ sat by herself. With the discovery of the journal, the stables, and then the vat of acid, Garcia was away. JJ couldn't remember what for exactly, it seemed everything she heard turned into "Spencer" when in reached her brain. She was exhausted, and she wanted nothing more than to go home, hug her son and take a hot shower, but she refused to leave. What if he wakes up for good when I'm gone? He's not going to be alone again.
She had read 'Canterbury Tales' to him six times, today her voice was too dry and voice too hoarse to continue.
She scraped the chair across the floor and leaned over his body, taking his hand.
"Spence, It's JJ." She said. "I'm right here, waiting for you to wake up."
ooo
JJ awoke, and immediately looked over to the bed. She froze when she saw nothing but white sheets, a blue duvet and no Spencer. She hadn't meant to fall asleep, and now he was gone. But gone where? She scrambled to sit up, blinking her eyes, and she calmed considerably when she realized Spencer was under the blankets, and that his body was moving with obvious signs of life. He had pulled out all the tubes and wires he could get his hands on, and they lay on the floor next to him.
She neared the bed and knelt next to Spencer. He was on his side, and the blankets were pulled up over his face. One withered hand was all that was visible, clinging to the blankets to keep them place.
"Spence?"
JJ gently eased the blanket down a little, and she found him. His eyes were tightly shut, but she could tell he had been crying. His teeth had latched on to his hand, and he was drawing blood. While he was sweating profusely, he was shivering.
"It's JJ, honey." She used the softest voice she had. The one she usually reserved only for her son. "You're in a hospital, you're back home."
Spencer gave a barely audible whimper in response, but JJ didn't hear it. She turned to find a doctor at the door, who promptly moved to guide her out of the way and flip through Spencer's charts.
"Good Afternoon, Dr. Reid." The doctor offered. He was older than the other man, and far softer in appearance. He carefully pulled down the sheets and held Spencer's eyes open, shining a flashlight into them. The first time the nurse had gripped Spencer and shaken him hard, he had frozen up and fallen silent. This time he sobbed and his body jerked around as he tried to get away from the doctor.
"This is a safe place, you'll be getting the best care while you're here."
The doctor tucked Spencer back under the covers, and turned to JJ.
"Now he's awake, he'll need another MRI scan." He explained, "I will be able to tell you more after that, but the fact he is alert and responsive is a very good sign."
"And he's out of his coma?"
The doctor nodded. He instructed JJ to call the nurse if Spencer started seizing, or became very distressed, because apparently there was a high chance of both. Then he was gone, and JJ was left alone with Spencer.
At the BAU, the rest of the team sat in silence at the Round Table, photographs of the victims sprawled out in front of them.
"Here it is." Rossi said, holding up the thick journal. "June 9th, 2012. Number 114. Acid. Thighs. Eight out of ten."
"So he wasn't using it to dispose of some of the bodies?" Emily asked.
"We don't know, it may have had two purposes." Said Hotch. "This UNSUB doesn't stick to a particular M.O. We have burning, strangulation,exsanguination. But then we have Reid."
"I'm still going with the idea he wants to send a message to the FBI." Morgan pushed.
"Could he have been rejected from the bureau, he might have gone for the same job as Reid did?" Emily tried.
"Dates don't fit." Rossi said. "Reid had been in the BAU for five years before the UNSUB abducted him. Why wait?"
"There could have been a stresser in his life. If he lost his job, or his wife walked out... he starts questioning how much better everything might have been if he had got Reid's job?" Emily pushed.
"There were abductions before and after Reid, why all the rest?"
"Media attention? He'd get that by abducting and FBI agent."
Hotch turned to the speaker-phone.
"Garcia, make a list of males aged 30 to 60 who were rejected from the FBI."
"But, Sir, that list would be -"
"Pay particular attention to those rejected around the same time as Reid joined the bureau, we think it might have been a stresser."
"That makes it so much simpler! P.G. out."
The speaker-phone went dead.
JJ was telling Spencer all about her son - his godson - when a nurse entered with a trolley full of food. She pulled Spencer's table around, and placed a plate of white glop and a bottle of thinner white glop on it. JJ raised her eyebrow, surely this wasn't enough after being starved! Then she realized that because Spencer had been fed through a tube for the past four years, his stomach wouldn't be ready for normal, adult food.
"Spencer, there's food here for you." She tried, knowing it was futile.
She unscrewed the bottle top and held it to Spencer's lips. For a moment, she thought he might try some, but then his hand went up, knocking the bottle out of JJ's hands and spilling the liquid all over her blouse.
Spencer reacted immediately. She didn't know where his energy had come from, but instantly he was sitting up, slamming his head into the headboard and biting his hand.
JJ went for the call button, and two nurses came to restrain Spencer. He clawed at them, growled and bit one of the lady's hands. He was like an animal caught in a trap, scared, helpless - and in his own mind - faced with imminent death. JJ moved closer to him, hoping a friendly face would ease some of his fears, but in one swift action, he raised his hand and scratched deep into her cheek.
"It's okay!" She called, regardless. "Spence it's -"
"You need to get out!" One of the nurses yelled. "You're agitating him."
Spencer lunged at JJ again, he spit in her direction and kicked his feet.
You're upset the food's spilt. You're not upset at me, are you?
His head wound was bleeding, his lips were bleeding, his hand was bleeding...
JJ ran.
Spencer turned to drugs when Hankel had him for 48 hours. He couldn't sleep. Fish makes him sick.
Spencer was trapped in a box for four years. How many hours in four years? Spencer would know.
Was it foolish to believe Spencer could come back from this? Yes. He was remarkable, in the sense he was able to remember everything he had ever read, and solve complicated equations before everyone else finished reading them. But he was still a man, and his gigantic brain didn't make him immune to pain. From what she knew, Spencer's genius only made it harder for him to deal with things emotionally. When he can't wrap his head around the things he's feeling, he acts out.
JJ found herself driving without destination. She didn't want to go home and pretend everything was okay when it was all still falling apart. She considered going back to the BAU, but she didn't want to face the team either. She viewed her scratch in her rear-view mirror, it was red and angry, but it wasn't bleeding. She didn't think she had the right to complain, not when she thought off all the blood Spencer was covered in when they found him.
That box.
She found herself at Spencer's apartment. She let herself in and lay down on his bed. She had lost count of how many times she had buried her face in his pillow and cried for him, how many nights she and Garcia had sat on his sofa and watched Doctor Who or Star Trek just because they were his favourite shows. JJ kicked off her shoes and climbed into Spencer's bed. She had never got in his bed before, even though she had gone through his drawers. The sheets smelled too much like him, and when they had all started to consider the possibility that he was dead, it was too much. Her arm touched something soft, and JJ reached in to recover a stuffed dog. It's head was squished, it's ear had been chewed and it's tail was non-existent. It looked well-loved to say the least, something Spencer had saved from his childhood. Despite her misery, JJ smiled.
When JJ found the strength to leave, she took the dog and a few other bits and pieces from Spencer's room with her.
When JJ returned to the hospital, Spencer was being wheeled back into his room after his MRI scan. She set her bag down at his door and watched him crawl back under the blankets and block the world out.
"He's doing okay."
JJ turned to find Hotch staring back at her.
"Once the swelling in his brain goes down, the seizure activity should lessen, but there's a possibility he will need to be on medication for the rest of his life."
JJ nodded. She felt awkward. Hotch had come to see Spencer, and found him alone.
"And his mental ability?" JJ didn't exactly know how to word it.
"No lasting damage." Hotch confirmed. "Doctors like to prepare you for the worst case scenario. His emotional wounds will be harder to heal that the physical ones."
There was a bench outside Spencer's room and they sat down, watching him through the door.
"He panicked before." JJ said. "He attacked the nurses, I don't think he knew what was happening. The restrained him and he got scared."
"It could have been a flashback." Hotch said. "When he's able to talk, we'll all be there to help him through it. That's all we can do."
We owe him that.
JJ pulled the chair up to Spencer and sat down. She opened her bag and took out a framed picture of Diana Reid, placing it carefully on Spencer's bedside table next to the flowers from Garcia. She unfolded his green comforter and laid it over his body. Lastly, she took out the stuffed dog and lifted the blankets up, putting it against Spencer's chest. He needed to know he was home.
After a moment, she watched his eyes open and find the dog, the photograph and finally her face. She smiled at him, he didn't return it. Instead, he reached up and touched the cut on her face, looking at her nervously.
"It's okay, Spencer." JJ said. "It doesn't hurt at all."
After a moment, he let his arm drop. His fingers inched across the mattress, and he found her outstretched hand.
So Spencer's starting to trust JJ. But what happened to him, and what's going on in his head? Find out next chapter!
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