2 months later...
24/10/2017. Reid's Apartment, Virginia. 06:42 hours.
Steam filled the darkly tiled bathroom of Spencer Reid's apartment. Spencer wiped away a patch of condensation from the mirror of his medicine cabinet, revealing a distorted image of himself. He had undergone such a vast amount of therapy during the previous two months, that he was desperate to return to work- psychotherapy, physical therapy and speech therapy. Spencer stared into his reflection as he ran the tips of his fingers over the ridges of the scars over the left side of his forehead and face. He had started to adjust to the new image of himself. Spencer gripped the cold ceramic of the wash basin and sighed. His stomach twisted with apprehension. He was due to return to work and it felt akin to the first day of school. He turned on the cold water faucet and cupped his hands beneath the crystalline stream, water surging over the edges of his palms and crashing back into the basin. Spencer splashed the water against his face, gasping at the icicles against his skin. Water dripped from the tip of his nose. He glanced back up at the mirror, his lips slightly parted.
Realising the inevitable, Spencer reached for the towel on the handrail and patted the beads of water from his face. He cast the towel haphazardly over the edge of the basin and made his way back into his bedroom, straightening the collar of his black button down shirt and flattening out the creases. He paused near the foot of his bed and pressed the knuckles of his hand to his left eye in an effort to stem the dull throb in his skull. The succession of brain haemorrhages had left with chronic headaches, often so intense that he would need to hide away from all civilisation for however long the migraine lasted. His neurologist had assured him that he could return to full duties with the BAU provided he took his prescribed medications to control his migraines and prevent seizures. Spencer hated medication, but then he would remind himself that his mother was pumped full of antipsychotic medicine day in and day out.
Spencer turned to his closet and turned the dial on the small steel safe. The door sprung open to reveal his credentials and a pair of revolvers. He gathered his firearms and credentials and returned to his bed. He dropped heavily onto the edge of the mattress and lifted the left leg of his dress trousers to reveal his mismatched socks and a large ghastly scar on his calf. He tucked a revolver into his ankle holster and tugged his sock up to hide it before lowering his trouser leg again. Pushing to his feet, Spencer holstered his second revolver on his belt and pocketed his credentials. He shouldered his black blazer and flicked his curls out from under the collar. He let out a long breath through his nose and pursed his lips. Spencer slung his tan leather satchel over his head so that it crossed his chest and came to rest on his hip. His keys rattled against the ceramic of the bowl on the unit beside his front door as he drew them out and made his way out of his apartment.
24/10/2017. BAU Offices, Quantico, Virginia. 07:30 hours.
Spencer gazed around in a daze. The room blurred and spun before his eyes. The bullpen still appeared exactly as it had before his accident, and yet he did not feel like he belonged there. The bullpen was silent, the desks shadowed in an eerie darkness which was hardly a surprise given that he often turned up to work an hour or more before the others. With a sigh, Spencer strode over to his desk. He tugged his satchel over his head and tucked it underneath his desk. His desk looked exactly as he had left it. His in and out trays were devoid of files. The LED lights along the frosted glass separating his and JJ's desks cast a gentle white glow over his neatly set out books. Spencer glanced over at the kitchenette. He swallowed hard and made his way to the kitchenette, weaving around several desks as he did so.
The coffee machine was bathed in a dim blue light as though it were a holy object. Spencer smiled softly and retrieved the bag of filter espresso coffee from beside the machine and filling the empty coffee tray and topping up the jug with water. The machine bubbled and hissed as Spencer tugged open the cupboard door before him. He pondered the rows of mugs. Selecting a navy FBI mug, Spencer took in the bitter yet delicious scent of the brewing coffee beside him. He set the mug down on the counter with a soft tap and gently closed the cupboard door as if trying not to disturb the otherwise located staff, or perhaps even the dead. Spencer reached for the sugar jar and spooned several heaped amounts into the mug.
"You'll rot your teeth." Startled by the sudden voice in his ear, and the fear that he had finally succumbed to his mother's schizophrenia, Spencer jumped, sugar tipping over his front. The sugar jar thudded against the counter as it slipped from his sweaty hands. Eyes wide, Spencer gasped and pressed a palm to his chest in an effort to slow his heart that was thumping a hole in his ribs. He grasped the counter with his left hand to hold himself upright. A feminine giggle sounded behind him. Spencer turned to scowl at the offending voice. Emily stood behind him, her black leather handbag dangling from her shoulder. She gripped the strap with one hand. Spencer closed his eyes and sighed, brushing his hair out of his face with his palm.
"J-Jesus, Emily."
"Sorry, Spence. I couldn't resist." Spencer glared daggers at the raven-haired woman before him. He was unable to hold his sour expression and burst into laughter. The coffee machine hissed to signal its completion, "I'll have one if you're making. No sugar." Spencer looked at the mound of sugar at his feet and what dusted his shirt.
"I don't think there's any left anyway..." Emily winked at Spencer and stalked away towards her office. Spencer's eyes followed her, then turned back to the coffee machine. Grabbing the coffee jug with a still trembling hand, Spencer poured the thick black liquid into his own mug, then retrieved another for Emily.
24/10/2017. BAU Offices, Quantico, Virginia. 08:30 hours.
Spencer reached over the frosted glass separating his and JJ's desks and helped himself to two manila folders in her in-tray. He had already had his return to work interview with Emily and had become incredibly bored. Deciding that he would lighten JJ's load, he opened the first file. His eyes rapidly scanned the police report. Sliding a pencil from the pen pot on his desk, Spencer jotted some notes down on his notepad. He flipped the page over and spread the photographs out. Spencer studied the photographs intently and made some more notes in his usual scrawl. He completed the report in the file and dropped it into his out-tray. He barely noticed JJ approach her desk and drop her handbag underneath. His nose almost touched the papers and his curls had gathered over his face.
"Spence!" Spencer jumped, his pencil leaving a grey line across the page. He slammed the pencil down in frustration and brushed his hair back out of his face., "Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you," responded JJ as she tried to stifle a laugh with her hand.
"It's okay. I was in the z-zone."
"How has your therapy been going?"
"G-good. I'll still have a bit of a stutter for a little while, but I'm g-getting there."
"That's great, Spence. Really. So glad to have you back." JJ glanced at her smaller pile of files, "You done some of my files?" Spencer looked up at the blonde woman and smiled.
"I'm glad t-to be b-back. And yes. I was b-bored." JJ flicked her head towards the conference room and noticed a light on and shadows moving around. Spencer frowned, "W-what is it, Jayje?"
"There's something going on in the conference room." Ears pricked up in alarm, Spencer quickly came to his feet and drew his revolver from his holster. With both hands clasping his firearm, he edged his way up the stairs and across the short landing towards the conference room. Spencer raised his gun up and slowly pushed the door open with his fingertips. What he was met with was not what Spencer had anticipated. The round table was stacked with wrapped gifts. A large chocolate cake sat in the centre. Spencer's mouth dropped open in a silent 'o' as his right hand carrying his gun fell to his side. A banner was stretched across the TV monitor reading 'Welcome Back!" in rainbow coloured lettering. Penelope pounced on him, wrapping her arms tightly around him.
"Welcome back, my boy genius!" Fighting for breath, Spencer patted her shoulder.
"Penelope?.. Garcia?... Can't... Breathe..." Penelope gasped and released him. Spencer holstered his firearm and looked around the room. Everyone had gathered around the table and were holding drinks. David thrust a glass into Spencer's hand and planted a large kiss on each cheek.
"Guys... W-what is this? I mean, y-you didn't have to."
"We're glad to have you back, Reid," answered Matt.
"T-Thanks guys. I'm glad to be back." Spencer smiled broadly, tears twinkling in his eyes as he looked at each member of the team.
"To Spencer!" announced David. Everyone raised their glasses.
"Spencer!" answered everyone in unison.