Starting to Rebuild Trust

It had been two days since Reid had stopped responding to any knocks, phone calls or e-mails, and during this time, all his team members (minus Hotch who at least seemed to have gotten the message) had tried to visit him at the minimum of three times – each – threatening to smash down the door if he didn't at worst knock back to show he was alive and conscious. He hadn't reassured them in any way, of course, but his door was still in one piece; thank God for small miracles. Even Morgan had enough sense to know that in his current mental state, he wouldn't hesitate to call the police on him, should he attempt anything like that for real.

He knew, without even having to look, that now countless food baskets full of his favorite candies, teas and coffees adorned his mat outside on the corridor, despite the best efforts of his neighbors to smuggle away everything before he would notice it.

They needn't have worry: they could take them all for all he cared. He didn't even have the energy to get up from the bed; even if his worst ever hangover had passed a day ago, he still felt like shit. And it had nothing to do with the fact that he hadn't eaten anything during this time or that he had only consumed an incredible amount of nauseatingly sweetened coffee. No. Rather, it had everything to do with the endless feeling of betrayal, sadness and hopelessness. His team, his friends – his family – had willingly lied to him for long weeks about something that could have destroyed him, and now they just expected him to be okay with learning the truth? To understand how difficult it had been for them!? And what about him? Again, like so many times before, his feelings were the last things anyone wanted to take into consideration.

His father hadn't cared upon leaving him alone with his sick mother as a small child – his own career and undisturbed life had been more important. He hadn't even said 'I'm sorry'; he hadn't been able to flee quick enough and had quite obviously never wanted to look back.

His mother couldn't take his feelings into account; he was well aware of that. Her sickness just didn't let her think as far as that, at least most of the time. On the rare days… more like hours… when she had been all right while he was growing up, it had been such a gift he had nearly chocked on his tears of happiness. Mostly, it had been him alone with all problems and he had gotten used to it to some extent. It still didn't mean it couldn't hurt.

Elle had simply left. Without even a goodbye. Why wouldn't she have? She certainly hadn't owned him anything. And yet… Hadn't he tried to help her? To be there for her? Where had she been when he was the one struggling after his kidnapping and torture in the hands of Tobias and his vicious alter egos? Where had she been during his time fighting Dilaudid? Because she sure as hell hadn't been anywhere near him, even though he knew Garcia had tried her best to contact her and get her to at least visit him in the hospital right after he had been rescued. As far as he knew, she had never responded to any of the technical analyst's attempts. Where was she when he had suffered from anthrax? Of course, since it had been useless the first time, nobody had even bothered trying to reach her anymore. They had tried with Gideon… They just hadn't been able to find him, and with everything that had been going on, it understandably hadn't been their top priority.

Gideon… He didn't even want to go there; it was just too painful. His only father-figure, to ever show some interest in anything about him aside from his intellect, leaving like that; with only a letter for him and a board of their last, half-finished chess game. At least he had said 'sorry' in his own, twisted way…

And now, Hotch wanting to take on the role of the understanding adult in his life? To be a mentor and to help him? To assure him he could trust his mighty and fearless leader who would make everything all right for him again? And more than that: swearing that Rossi would like to do that too if he just let him? Should he trust the men? No. Doctor Spencer Reid wouldn't make that mistake ever again. He would never, ever, trust anyone again. If he had learnt something from this whole mess, it was that: trust made you vulnerable; it gave other people munition against you. And they'd take it and use it mercilessly when you least expected it. It enabled them to stab you into your back and in the end, they'd still be able to explain how it had been, in reality, your own fault. In the end, you'd be the one to shame yourself and to be embarrassed about having been wronged.

No. Better not to trust anyone. With that thought Reid turned onto his other side, scooting farther towards the wall by his bed, distancing himself even more from the sobbing Garcia banging the door from outside, who had been trying to coax a response out of him for the last half an hour.

CM * CM * CM * CM * CM * CM * CM * CM * CM * CM

It was around four or five hours and a quick, involuntary nap later that Reid heard a tentative knock on his door again. He was just about to ignore it exactly like all the other times before when his visitor announced loudly (probably much to the dismay of his neighbors – they deserved the treats for putting up with the racket he was causing lately, he thought):

"Spencer, son. I know you're in there. Please, open the door!"

What the-? Reid jumped out of the bed with more force than he would have given himself credit having for, and particularly flew out of his room, right at the front door, tearing it open with just a tad bit too much anger; effectively startling the unsuspecting visitor half dead.

"What are you doing here?" – He demanded angrily. – "Has Hotch really sunk so low that he had to call you back?"

Jason Gideon opened and closed his mouth a few times, not able to get a word out. He had expected some resentment from the young man, of course he had. He knew very well he deserved it. But this? This? This wasn't even the Spencer he knew!

The young man looked awful: usually dark circles now even deeper and darker than ever around his eyes and his sunken in cheeks made him look as gaunt as a skeleton. Had the boy been eating at all in the last weeks!? And had he been crying? He certainly looked like he had…

His clothes were rumpled as if he had slept in them (as it had probably happened, he thought), and his too-longish light-brown hair as messy as it had been upon his rescue from Tobias.

"Ahm… Spencer… I-"

"My name is Reid. You don't get to call me Spencer anymore."

"Okay… Reid. Ahm… Can we maybe go inside? I would like to talk with you and I don't think your neighbors should be submitted to even more suffering…"

"Mrs. Wilkinson to the right is nearly completely deaf. She's not bothered by anything. Mrs. and Mr. Walter to the left have stolen nearly all the gifts I got…" – He explained, gesturing towards the three remaining baskets near his door. – "… I don't think they have much to complain about. And Mr. Sephard-"

"Still, can we go inside, please? I'd really like to talk to you, Spe… I mean: Reid."

"Well, why don't you just write a letter then and leave it somewhere for me to find? That's the way you like handling things after all, isn't it?"

Gideon was completely speechless. This young man… He didn't know him. He didn't know what to say or even what to call him to make things better. He now understood Hotch's worry completely.

His old colleague and friend had made contact with him (with Garcia's help of course) in total panic, telling him about how they had lost the boy's trust and how it seemed like it was for ever. He hadn't wanted to believe it back then of course: Spencer had always been such an open, lovely, nearly too naïve boy… even if he was angry, how could it be so bad? He had of course agreed to come talk to the young man, especially since he'd been thinking about doing so for a while now… He had missed the boy that was like a son to him so much it hurt. But he had never expected a 'welcome' like this!

"I'm so sorry about what happened. Please. Let's just go inside and talk. If you'll still want me out of your life after that, I promise you, I'll leave and I'll never bother you ever again."

"Well, I hope at least that's a promise you intend to keep, Gideon." – Said Reid bitingly, opening the door completely and stepping to the side a bit to let the older man (once a father-figure now more like the enemy in his eyes) walk in.

They took their respective places in the kitchen with Reid sitting as far away from his old mentor as the furniture would allow it with the limited space he had. This fact of course didn't escape Gideon's attention.

They boy didn't seem to want to speak but was at least listening. For now. He couldn't ask for more, so he began:

"Spencer-"

"Reid."

"Reid. I heard what happened and I'm very sorry. I fully understand how hurt you are and I'm not here to try to talk you into miraculously forgetting everything and forgiving them. Or me."

"Then why, pray tell, are you here? To see if I've started using again yet? Well, I haven't. You can go and tell them that."

"I know you're stronger than that, I didn't think you'd start. They're not worried about that either, I'd say. This isn't the reason for my visit at all."

Reid rolled his eyes in a decidedly very rude manner he would have never allowed himself with his mentor before. But Gideon let it slide – it was not worse than what he deserved.

"Then say it already. I don't have all day! I have… things to do." – It wasn't a complete lie either. He wanted to just be left alone and think about things in peace.

Gideon took a deep breath.

"I won't lie to you: Hotch called me. He was very worried. Uncharacteristically so. I've actually never heard him sound like this before."

"It figures. You haven't been around lately to see what has happened to him. You wouldn't be surprised otherwise. He's changed. We all have."

"I believe you. I have changed as well. I am so very sorry about leaving the way I did. Especially after your father's very similar departure… I should have talked to you, Sp—Reid, but I was a coward! Yes, I'll admit it now: I. Was. A. Coward. I knew that if I didn't leave, I'd kill myself or die of a heart-attack or something. After losing Sarah… Well, I also knew that if I talked to you, I would never be able to leave. At the very least I'd have tried to convince you to come with me. I had thought about it a lot before."

The young man looked – for the very first time during the conversation – surprised and mildly interested.

"You had?"

"Yes. Oh, God, I'd thought about it so much! I had brought you to the BAU after all; it had all been my idea! And then when I saw what it does to people… First in Boston when we lost half of the team… then with Frank and all the other horrible cases. Those deaths. The working hours and lack of private life. I just thought: what if I had done you wrong bringing you into all of that? What if you'd have been better off at the university, continuing your studies, then doing research or whatever you had wanted to do before I approached you with my 'brilliant' idea of joining the FBI?"

Reid thought back at his life before BAU for a moment before carefully answering.

"I had never wanted to join the FBI. It had never even crossed my mind before you came to me after that lecture. I've always been interested in so many things… Studied so much. I like studying, you know?"

Gideon had tears in his eyes but refused to let them fall.

"Yes, son. I know." - For once, the boy didn't correct him about not using his surname. He was too deep in his thoughts to notice the slip.

"I don't even think it's really fitting for me. I mean, just look at my marksmanship: shameful! And my general condition? Garcia can do better in the gym than me! I don't even meet the weight requirements, let alone the minimum age for agents at the time I began by the BAU. I don't know how I managed to get through the training but I have an inkling it had more to do with your and Hotch's intervention than anything I'd done." – The fact that Gideon didn't try to deny it, how he just hung his head instead, betrayed more than words ever could. Spencer felt his cheeks redden in embarrassment. – "I've always felt because of that that I needed to prove myself more than the others. To always get better and better. It's been such a stress… Failing my qualification nearly drove me over the edge. I know that Morgan didn't mean anything by the teasing but it really hurt. It mattered to me more than it should have because of the special circumstances. I never liked being singled out."

"It's my fault you got into this situation in the first place. I knew…well, I thought I knew you'd like it by the BAU. You have an exceptional talent, it became evident the first time you asked a question during my lecture. And then you just solved that cold case in thirty minutes with only the information I gave you all during that class, pointing out the fatal error in the profile our whole group had missed… It came so natural to you, you didn't even understand my astonishment, but I couldn't believe it; it was surreal. But please, don't think I just wanted your brain and not you, because I can assure you, it's not true. You, Spencer Reid, are amazing, and I knew you'd have a place in our group. And you've done great, you've never disappointed anyone. And your marksmanship? Well, yes, you failed your qualification and yet you still managed to take out an L.D.S.K. with a single shot from the floor under incredible pressure. You still managed to shoot Tobias while half-dead on your feet and digging your own grave. I was so incredibly proud of you then! Still am, actually. And for everything else as well. I'll never forget how you walked into that train to help the hostages because you were the only one who could convincingly magic a microchip out of his arm. You didn't have to do that and yet, you volunteered, because you wanted to help. And you did. Many people are alive because of you."

"I liked it by the BAU, as a matter of fact: I've never liked it so much anywhere else. You don't have to blame yourself for bringing me in. I don't regret it. It used to be good."

"It's not anymore?"

"No. Hasn't been for a while. What happened now is just the top of the iceberg. It hasn't been the same since Elle left… and then you left… JJ… Emily… and it's just so different now. You know I'm not good with changes."

"I know that. I'm sorry again. Maybe I should have asked you to come with me…"

"Yeah. Maybe you should have. I'd have gone." – Replied the boy with such certainty that Gideon felt his heart shatter to a thousand miniature pieces.

"That was what I feared the most. That you'd come but not because you really want to, but because you can't bear to lose another parental figure. I feared you'd come then hate me for it forever. Because I really thought you liked working there and I didn't want to take it away from you. I could have offered you to go teach at a university. I could have gotten you a place anywhere to do research. I could have had you go to the NASA if you'd have wanted that. But I thought… I thought that losing the BAU would be worse for you than losing me and that hating me for leaving was still better than hating me for taking you away from the rest of the 'family'. But I was too selfish and I knew if I talked to you, or even if I as much as looked you into the eyes I wouldn't be able to say goodbye and walk away. Hence the letter. I was a selfish bastard and a coward."

Reid sighed sadly.

"No, Gideon. It's so much worse: you didn't think I would be able to make my own decision, so you took that chance away from me instead. You didn't trust me to know what's best for me. Just like the others didn't trust me now. And that is what makes me so despaired. That people don't seem to trust me. Trust is important in this line of work. Hell, trust is important, period. And I don't have the trust of people around me. I must be doing something wrong. Never mind that now I don't trust them either so now at least it's mutual, I guess." – He shrugged with faked nonchalance.

"NO!" – Gideon nearly shouted. – "Listen to me! Wanting to protect someone from pain isn't the same as not trusting them! I knew very well you'd be able to make a decision. I also knew that you'd regret it, either way. I just didn't want to put that pressure onto your shoulders. And son: you are younger than any of us; younger than anyone ever doing this job, there's no changing that. It's natural for us to want to protect you a little bit more. It's because we love you; it has nothing to do with lack of trust."

Spencer just shook his head.

"I wish I could believe that. But I can't. I'm sorry."

Now Gideon couldn't hold back the tears anymore, so they silently ran down his cheeks. He never even bothered to wipe them away.

"So now what? Are you going to ignore your friends forever? Let them worry about whether you live or not? Son, you must see how hard they're trying! They wouldn't do that if they didn't care!"

"I'm not trying to hurt them. It's not revenge or something as childish as that. I simply can't talk to them right now, what they don't seem to accept and I'm too tired to repeat it all over again. I appreciate their efforts, I honestly do, but I just need some space to sort out my feelings. Now it really is time for me to make my own decisions and this time, nobody is going to be able to take that away from me, Gideon. No self-appointed guardian angel is needed. I need to figure out for myself what I want to do with my life and which way I want to take. I have many options; I just have to choose. And I can't base my choice on other people's wishes; not now. You're right: I might have done so back then but I'm not that naïve little boy anymore."

"No, Spencer. Sorry, I mean: Reid. You're not."

The young man sighed tiredly.

"You can call me Spencer, you know. It's fine. And I'm glad you came. A bit late but… it's better than never. I always wondered why you didn't talk to me back then before leaving and I'm glad I finally know. I also kind of thought you might have left because of me. Because I wasn't good enough…"

Gideon was scandalized.

"NO! Never think that for a moment!"

"It's stupid, I know."

"I swear to you that what I told you now was the only reason. I was stupid and I'm sorry. I'll never be able to make it up to you but, if you'd be willing, I'd like to keep in touch from now on. Whatever you decide. Whether you leave the BAU and begin a career somewhere else or stay with the FBI… doesn't matter. I want you for yourself."

Reid thought about it for a moment.

"Can you promise me not to treat me like a little boy? To let me be more like an equal than an abandoned child crying for his lost daddy? I can and will respect our age difference, Gideon, and I will never forget how much you've done for me but… I don't think I'm able to go back to that father/son relationship anymore. I've matured a lot since then and everything has changed a lot, even if I didn't want it."

"I understand. We are equals and I promise to treat you as such. I won't make any more decisions for you and I won't be as swell-headed as to believe I know better than you what's best for you. I will not even ask about your options and thoughts on the matter now; you will tell me in your own time, if you want to."

"And will you tell Hotch about our conversation?"

Gideon shook his head, instantly understanding the question being a test.

"He knows I'm here and if you agree, I'll tell him that you didn't kick me out right away. That we talked. I'd also like to tell him that you're all right and that they should let you breathe a bit. Other than that: no. You're a responsible adult and I trust you to handle this like one. I know you won't let your boss have to take the bullet for you because you're missing work and he has to cover for you with Strauss and the director. I know you won't leave him in suspense whether he needs to look for a new member or not. I know you don't want to hurt your friends and deliberately keep them worrying about you. I am certain you can appreciate their efforts for what they are and also accept that they're hurting as well. I know you and you are a good person who has been hurt badly. I know you'll soon be able to get a grip on your – rightfully – upset feelings and think with a clear, cool head. I know that, whatever you may decide in the end, you won't burn all the bridges with your friends and the FBI."

Touché. Trust Gideon to deliver a lecture even while promising not to do so. But Spencer couldn't get angry about it because he also knew the older man was right: for all his insistence of being an adult, he surely wasn't behaving like one right now. Locking himself into his apartment, not reacting to the others… Getting drunk, hitting his head and being hungover… Lashing out at Hotch and Gideon… That wasn't like him.

Yes, he had thinking to do and he honestly wasn't sure about staying at this point. But that didn't mean he got to kick everyone around him. Yes, they had hurt him, badly, there was no denying it. As it seemed, they didn't even want to deny it; quite the contrary: wanted to apologize. And he wasn't letting them. Was he any better than them like that? He doubted it.

And he knew there was no excuse for missing work and causing problems for others with it. He had responsibilities and as long as he didn't quit, he'd have to comply with them. The team deserved at least that from him. Having made a decision, he squared his shoulders and sat up straighter on the chair, instantly presenting the air of a serious adult instead that of a pouting teenager.

"Don't worry about it, Gideon. I'll call Hotch myself and sort things out."