Chapter Text
Adjusting to working with a twenty year old FBI agent took the other members of the team a few months to swallow, but after Spencer solved a cipher in days that led to the capture of a serial killer rampaging across the country he had earned their respect at least, and he was somewhat certain several members of the team were trying to befriend him. Trying being the keyword; Gideon had warned him before even applying to the academy that if he wanted to work for the FBI there were some personal details that should be just that, personal. As though Gideon had taken one look at him and known he was very likely autistic, genetically predisposed to schizophrenia, and had a serious boyfriend.
With profilers, Spencer couldn’t be certain how effective he was at masking, but he had been doing it his entire life, so he hoped anything that slipped through the cracks could be considered the eccentricities of a child prodigy. Despite the incident, Spencer hadn’t had any further hallucinations, delusions, or anything of the like so he had hesitantly chalked it up to sleep deprivation and/or smoke inhalation. That didn't change the fact that Sam was gone.
There hadn’t been anything to salvage from their apartment, not a single one of their books intermingling on their bookcase, no photos taken by their friends or of their friends from the mantle or pinned to the fridge, not one flannel that had slowly shifted into becoming Spencer’s because it was soft and familiar and smelled like Sam’s detergent. If not for the ring, Spencer wouldn’t have a scrap of evidence Sam wasn’t another delusion his brain had cooked up.
Fortunately, Spencer had added his name to the lease, so he had collected the payout for the faulty pipes and wiring, which paid for a rundown hotel room for the next two months as he healed from his injuries and crammed the rest of his psychology and sociology BA. Sam’s friends had offered him a place to stay after they heard Sam had ‘left on a trip with his brother to find their missing father’, but Spencer had politely declined, and easily evaded them. Considering his phone had melted into a piece of scrap metal, he didn’t even have to block their numbers. It didn’t afford him the privilege of forgetting theirs in return.
“Hey, pretty boy, we’re heading out for some drinks, you coming?” Derek asked.
“Not really my scene,” Spencer said apologetically, shouldering his bag.
“Oh no you don’t,” Elle said. “You can’t keep sidestepping us, Dr. Reid, we’ve got to get to know you somehow. Think of it as mandatory team bonding.”
“Are Hotch and Gideon going to be there?”
“Doubtful.”
“Then it’s not team bonding,” Spencer said primly, heading for the elevators.
“Hotch has a pregnant wife, and Gideon is… Gideon,” Derek said. “What’s your excuse, doc?”
“Social awkwardness?”
“Nice try, kid, c’mon.”
They waited for Elle to round up JJ and Penelope before they all stepped into the elevator together, the others debating what bar to go to, but it was quickly settled as they all decided that Mo’s was decent. Spencer fell to the back of the pack as they walked towards the bar, but Penelope joined him.
“I’m so excited you’re coming out with us! Aside from the papers you’ve published there’s barely anything on the web about you which means I need to get my info first hand, so spill!”
“Um.”
“Shy? Don’t worry, a little tequila will fix that for you. Onwards!”
She moved to loop her arm with his, and he couldn’t help shying away.
“Not big on touch, huh?”
“Sorry.” Spencer grimaced.
“It’s cool,” Penelope said. “Everyone’s got their things, I mean, I’m a total hugger, but that doesn’t mean you have to be! I did hear a little rumor that you’re a germaphobe, you know, because of your whole ‘no handshakes’ thing.”
“Some healthcare circles have actually discussed switching to fist bumps rather than handshakes to cut down on the transfer of bacteria. Even though hand washing has become a major initiative through healthcare systems, up to eighty percent of people still retain some kind of bacteria even after washing their hands.”
“So a germaphobe. See? I’m learning so much already!”
Spencer’s lips quirked up. Penelope reminded him of Becky a little, she was lively, outgoing, and confident, she was quirky where Becky had been more mainstream, but he could still see the similarities even if Becky would never wear some of the bright patterns Penelope appeared to be so fond of, or use a unicorn-pen.
The bar had a decent crowd, but not so much that they struggled to find a table, each ordering a drink from the bar, though Spencer ordered a soda even though the bartender didn’t ask for his ID (which he assumed was solely because of who he was with).
“You don’t drink?” Elle asked.
“I hear its frowned upon to break the law once you work in law enforcement.”
The others exchanged looks.
Spencer’s face warmed. “I, uh, I’m still a few weeks shy.”
“You’re joking,” Derek said.
“Oh my god, I can’t believe I forgot,” Penelope said. “Can you even be in here?”
JJ frowned. “Don’t you have to be twenty-three to apply?”
“They made an exception.”
“You’re twenty?” Elle asked.
“Currently.”
Derek just shook his head, disbelief painted across his face. “Gideon really just went and plucked you out of a lecture hall, huh?”
“More or less.”
“He couldn’t wait a year or two?” JJ asked.
“I suppose he could have, but I’m pretty sure this years reports will show our solved-cases statistic has increased by seven point five percent, if not more considering the fact that the quicker a case is solved, the more cases that can be solved per year offering a higher volume of cases to be solved.”
“He’s got a point,” Elle said. “If Reid didn’t figure out our last unsub had emetophobia and all of the victims had recently thrown up, we never would have found the connection.”
“Not never,” Derek muttered.
“Not in four days,” Elle corrected.
“Yeah, I’ll give you that,” Derek said.
“Still, you’re only twenty, what made you decide to join the FBI?” JJ asked. “You could have done just about anything with your brain and you already had, like, what, two doctorates?”
“All the avenues I was considering were a competition for where I could be the most useful, how I could help the most people, but here? I get to see the results. It’s not years in a lab looking for a cure that may not be found until after I’m dead, but at least here I know I’m helping someone with every case.”
“Now that, that is a good reason, I’ll drink to that,” Derek said.
“Here, here,” Penelope cheered.
They clinked their drinks together.
“Why did you all join?” Spencer asked.
“Someone came to lecture at my college my senior year,” JJ said. “I applied the next fall.”
“My dad was a cop,” Elle said simply.
“So was my pops,” Derek said. “I worked Chicago PD for awhile, and there was just this one case… our chief sent in a request, a couple of profilers came down, and we caught the guy three weeks later using their profile. I sent in my application the next week.”
“I was recruited,” Penelope said.
“Pen’s kind of a genius herself,” Derek said.
“Flattery will get you everywhere, Derek Morgan.” Penelope batted her eyes at him.
Derek laughed.
The conversation moved into discussing other cases; a few from the BAU pre-Spencer, some from Derek’s bomb squad days, some from Elle’s work in sex crimes.
“Alright, enough with the murder,” Penelope protested. “We’re having a night out!”
Derek held his hands up in surrender.
“So, Reid, where are you from?” Elle asked.
“Vegas, Nevada.”
“A Vegas boy,” Derek said.
“How do you like Virginia?” JJ asked.
“To be perfectly honest, we don’t actually spend a lot of time in Virginia, so I suppose when I am here, it’s been fine.”
“I hear that,” JJ said.
“We’ll point you to the best haunts, there’s Mo’s of course, there’s this Mexican restaurant over on third, a judo gym if you’re looking to actually get some hand to hand experience,” Derek said.
“If you’re looking for Derek to snap you like a twig,” Elle said.
“I bet pretty boy’s got some moves, right?” Derek mimed a few punches.
Spencer rubbed at his forearm through the sleeve of his button down. “I may have also gotten a few exceptions on the physical qualifications.”
“Which only means you need more training,” Derek said. “I run hand to hand refreshers here and there, you should come.”
Spencer took a long sip of soda rather then try to find some way to decline.
Penelope smacked Derek’s arm. “Stop trying to beat up the newbie. Look at him, he looks like he hasn’t been fed in two years!”
Spencer grimaced. “Thanks.”
JJ gave him a little apologetic smile.
“He’s a kid, he’s probably just had his growth spurt,” Derek teased. “He’ll fill out.”
“Yeah, maybe he’ll start growing into those button downs.” Elle tugged on his sleeve. “What’s this? A men’s extra large?”
“I’m tall,” Spencer protested.
“You need to go shopping,” Penelope said, then gasped. “We should go shopping!”
Spencer shrank down in his chair.
JJ took pity on him. “Are you all settled into your apartment? I know it took me a couple of months for me to get some of the smaller things, I bought a bed frame, a couch, a kitchen table, and then very quickly realized that a coffee maker is also a necessity.”
“I think a coffee maker was what I bought first,” Spencer joked.
“Are you far? Traffic can be a bitch,” Elle said.
“I take the metro.”
“Nothing to start your morning off right like being wedged between other sweaty commuters,” Elle said.
Spencer shrugged. “I use the time to read, so it doesn’t particularly bother me.”
“Very in character,” JJ said.
“Alright, so, twenty year old, fresh out of the academy, just moved to Virginia, do you have family in the area? Friends? More than friends?” Derek asked.
“No,” Spencer said, though the chain tucked under his collar felt heavier. “Which is actually rather advantageous with our work hours.”
“Keeping it casual is the way to go,” Derek said, and Elle nodded her agreement.
“What about Hotch?” JJ said. “I mean, he makes it work, and he’s got a kid on the way.”
“Exactly. Besides, I need you all to satiate my endless need for drama with your own personal lives!” Penelope added, earning a couple of laughs.
“No drama here,” Elle said.
“Same,” Derek said.
“Oh? So you’re saying how things ended with Susanna was drama free?” Penelope challenged.
“I—“ Derek opened and closed his mouth. “How was I supposed to know it was her birthday?”
“Oh, dude…” JJ said.
“Not cool, man,” Elle said.
Derek tried to defend himself while Penelope dragged his ‘dating’ history, but eventually gave in, and just started laughing along. Spencer found himself relaxing as the night went on as he realized the teasing was doled out in even measure to everyone at the table and always by gentle hands. It was a meandering walk back towards the office for the others to get to their cars, and Spencer to get to the nearest metro stop.
“I grew up in a small town in Pennsylvania, like, tiny, and I remember when I left for college I could wait to get out, but once I got there…”
“You do realize I’ve been to college several times, right?”
“I just mean, a new city, new job, it can feel a little bit like starting a new life, and if you don’t have any friends or family around here then it can be a little overwhelming.”
Spencer made a noncommittal sound.
“So don’t be afraid to make some ties.” JJ bumped their shoulders. “You’re working with a team full of profilers, you’re going to be all up in each other’s business, so you might as well make some friends while you’re at it.”
“You’re saying I should stop avoiding mandatory team bonding rituals?”
“I’m saying, I know where the good coffee is.”
Spencer managed a little smile. “You should have led with that.”
JJ laughed. “Goodnight, Reid.”
“Night.”
Spencer waved goodbye to the others as he headed for the metro. It was only an eighteen minute ride to the nearest stop to the apartment, and only a seven minute walk. Apartment 606 had a green door, that led into the living room, the bedroom and bathroom off to his left, the kitchen straight ahead behind the living room. His books were stacked along the walls considering he hadn’t bought a bookshelf yet, but at least he had taken everything out of the boxes, though his collection was a fraction of the size it used to be, he was steadily building it back up. Considering that he didn’t plan on having any guests, he had put off furnishing the living room, his kitchen was a step up outfitted with a couple of mismatched barstools, a coffee machine, and a toaster. Putting together a bed frame had been more frustrating than it had any right to be considering he had a doctorate in engineering, but sleeping on a mattress on the floor while it didn’t bother him, also didn’t strike him a something a serious FBI profiler would do.
Which was the same reason he replaced his oversized sweaters; buying button downs, slacks, ties, sweater vests, and cardigans. If he tried to wear the kinds of suits Hotch wore, he would look like a kid playing dress up, this way he may have looked like a TA, but at least he didn’t look like a student. The long sleeves also covered the scarring; the burns supposedly would fade with time, but they were still pink, and the raised line where the stitches were would never leave. It was true that he had been given exceptions to his physical requirements, but some of the leniency definitely came from showing up to the academy wearing a boot. Hand-to-hand requirements they could wave, but he did have to pass his gun qualifications, which he did… barely. The button down collars also kept the chain around his neck securely under the collar of his shirt.
Spencer caught a little sleep before the ring of his phone woke him, and he answered if before his eyes opened, a well practiced ‘Dr. Spencer Reid’ leaving his mouth as though he had been awake for hours.
“Reid, we have case.”
“Yes, sir, I can be there in thirty-seven minutes.”
“I’ll see you in thirty.”
The dial tone saved both of them the energy of saying goodbye. Rolling out of bed, Spencer showered quick and cold to keep himself from lingering, shivering as he pulled on slacks, tucking his chain under the collar of his undershirt, and doing up the buttons of his shirt while he walked to the kitchen. He tied his tie while the instant coffee brewed, and pulled on a sweater vest. Travel mug in hand, bag over his shoulder, he exited his apartment, locking the door, and jogging down the stairs. Knocking on Hotch’s door thirty-one minutes after the call had came in, considering both the bullpen, and conference room were empty.
“Reid. Come in.”
Spencer stepped inside the office, closing the door behind him.
“I thought we had a case, sir?”
“We do, the others will arrive shortly, but it’s come to my attention you haven’t filled out paperwork for an emergency contact.”
Spencer faltered as Hotch held out the papers.
“Oh.”
Accepting them, he sat down slowly as he read the empty slots where he was supposed to put the information of someone he trusted to make decisions for him if he was physically incapable.
“I don’t really have any family in the area,” Spencer said. “Is it necessary?”
“It is,” Hotch said. “If you’re injured in the field we’ll need someone to contact.”
Spencer heard the ‘or killed’ that Hotch tactfully didn’t say. Sitting down opposite Hotch, Spencer picked up a pen, but didn’t click it.
“It doesn’t have to be family. It can be a friend or partner.”
Spencer clicked the pen, but the chain around his neck felt like it was holding a cinderblock, and not a pretty gold ring as he scratched Sam’s name and information down. It was unlikely that even if he did get critically injured that the bureau would be able to track him down while he was driving cross country with his brother, and Spencer wasn’t even sure if the number he wrote was current. If he was critically injured, he was already registered as an organ donor should he be brain dead. If he got killed the state would bury him, and his will noted that all of his possessions should be donated, and all his finances allocated to his mother’s treatment.
“I know it’s sobering to fill out this kind of paperwork, but it is the reality we face.”
“I’ve had a will since I turned eighteen.” Spencer handed the papers back. “It’s just paperwork and preparation for the eventuality we all face.”
“The others should arrive soon, we’ll brief in five.”
Spencer rose, shouldering his bag, and exiting the office. Rather than return to the bullpen, he settled into his usual seat at the round table, the others beginning to file in.
“Early as always,” JJ said.
“Trying to make us look bad?” Derek teased.
“I don’t have to try.” Spencer sipped his coffee.
“Ouch.” Derek put his hand over his heart, while JJ and Elle snickered.
Gideon followed Hotch in, and the briefing began.
Sam didn’t ask until after they subdued the shapeshifter, and Dean was waiting in the car.
“How’s Spence?”
Becky blinked. “You don’t know?”
“Don’t know what?”
“Spencer… left. After he checked out of the hospital, he finished the rest of his degree in less than two months, and left.”
“Left? Left where?”
“I don’t know,” Becky said. “No one’s heard from him, we barely heard from him after he left the hospital. We tried to get him to stay with one of us, but he wouldn’t, we couldn’t even text him considering his phone went up, and he didn’t bother saying goodbye or giving us a new number.”
Sam’s chest tightened. “So none of you know where he is? None of you have heard from him?”
“No, sorry,” Becky said. “I know… I know you’re going through a lot right now, and you’re looking for your dad, and I’m not trying to guilt you, but… but I think he needed you.”
Sam swallowed. “Yeah, I know.”
“Then why? I mean, I thought you were going to…” Becky held up her hand, wiggling her ring finger.
Sam felt more like she punched him in the gut. “It’s complicated, but, uh, do me a favor? Let me know if you hear from him?”
“Yeah, I will,” Becky said. “Take care, Sam, we all miss you.”
“You too.”
Sam gave her a hug before climbing in the passenger side of Dean’s car.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Dean said.
“Becky doesn’t know where Spencer is.”
“Alright, well, don’t pull anything, it would’ve made the news if a twenty-year old genius kicked the bucket, especially in some freaky way. I’m sure he’s fine, probably just transferred somewhere else, you said he was practically addicted to get degrees, right?”
Sam nodded.
“Call your other nerd friends if you’re bugging about it, but I’m sure he’s fine.”
Sam texted the others, but they all gave him the same story, an array of well wishes, advice, and a little judgment for how he left things with Spencer. A couple of searches told him Spencer was just as allergic to social media as before; no Facebook, myspace, or LinkedIn. There were also no obits or articles, but he did find a few papers he had published previous years, including his thesis. A lot of it was technical jargon that eluded him, but he could hear Spencer’s voice in the wording of it.
“Anything?” Dean asked.
“No.”
“That’s good news,” Dean said. “Means he’s living normal.”
Sam nodded, closing his laptop.
It was another few months before Dean turned on the TV in their hotel, and he saw Spencer a few feet behind a serious looking man in a black suit who was making a press statement about a sniper they had caught in Des Plaines Illinois. It was too far back for Sam to make out anything about him other than the fact that his hair was shorter and he was wearing a god-awful sweater vest over an ill-fitting button down. It could have been the lighting, but it looked like his face was bruised.
“Your boy’s a fed?”
“A profiler. An agent recruited him from Stanford, even said they would make exceptions for his age, but he hadn’t decided if he wanted to apply or not.”
“Looks like he decided.”
“He’s in Virginia,” Sam said.
“Except for when he’s hunting monsters,” Dean said. “Guess I can see what you had in common aside from the sheer dork-levels.”
Sam was torn between pride and gut-deep fear that every day Spencer was chasing people just as dangerous as the monsters he and Dean were tackling. It was easier to keep tabs on Spencer after that, even if he didn’t appear in the news often agents Hotchner or Gideon’s name popped up here and there in relation to different cases. Sam kept clipping sometimes, like a gruesome scrap book, though he was careful not to let Dean see it and tell him he was going all Fatal Attraction.