AN: This is AU because I changed Spencer's age, the timeline and some canon happenings a bit. Not too much though.

Abandonment

Jason,

where are you? How could you leave us like that? You don't even know in what kind of mess our team is right now, do you? In just a matter of days I was suspended (and in big part because of you, I might add…), Prentiss resigned, Strauss 'joined' Morgan, JJ and Spencer on a job, then she freaked on them, and Emily and I arbitrarily reinstated ourselves only to return home and find that Haley had left me. And she took Jack with her. All the while, you weren't there. You just weren't.

Spencer… he was so worried! On top of everything he has to deal with (I don't think I have to detail his still ongoing struggles after his kidnapping and torture to you, do I?), you left him without as much as a goodbye in person. And you were right: he did find your letter. You should have seen his face when he showed it to me. Even your non-existent heart might have broken.

I'm still not sure we'll be able to help him before he spirals too far down to reach. It's possible we'll only be there to pick up the pieces afterwards when it's already too late.

I'm angry with you Jason. I'm so angry I could punch you in the face; of course, it's not possible if I don't know where you are.

So: where are you?

Aaron

Spencer woke up to his alarm clock at 5:50 AM, and promptly threw it across the room in a sudden surge of rage. The crack following its collision with the wall was somewhat satisfying to hear. He hated his life. He hated getting up in the morning and going to work and dealing with UnSubs… What was the point of chasing them, anyway? There always would be new ones. It would never be over, and at the end of the day, it would always be him, the 'famous' – more like infamous, in his opinion – Doctor Spencer Reid, standing left behind, alone and scared. Nobody cared.

He. Hated. His. Life.

Jason,

your old friend and colleague, David Rossi, has joined the team. We gave him your office; I'm sure you don't mind. You're not coming back anyway, I have accepted that by now. Your resignation is official, and your past services greatly appreciated – according to Strauss. That's what you wanted, right? You got it.

Sadly, that's about all the good news I can tell you.

Spencer isn't getting better. As a matter of fact, he's getting worse. He lives day by day. He doesn't smile anymore, there are no random lectures about impossible topics, no statistics and useless facts. He's not eating either. You thought he was skinny before? Think again. By now it's a wonder he can even stand upright. And who knows for how long…

He's not the same innocent boy anymore. We're not sheltering him as much as before; he doesn't let us. Now, he takes part in every field mission just like Morgan and Prentiss. His shooting has improved to the point where he matches the other agents, and it's scaring me. You want to know, why? Because I know the only reason for not being able to shoot before was the fact he hated using guns against people; he was just too sensitive and loving. Now, he just doesn't care anymore. As his boss, I should be happy about this development. But I'm not. I think we're losing him, and you're not here to help keep him with us.

Haley and Jack still haven't come back. I think this might be final this time…

Where are you?

Aaron

Spencer did his best to reassure Garcia in the hospital that everything would be fine. She was his friend and he wanted to be there for her. He knew what it felt like to be completely alone, and he absolutely refused to let her feel like that.

So, he pretended to smile – even if it was a bit strained – and be optimistic during the visit.

If anyone noticed the false act of cheerfulness, they didn't comment. They had more important things to care about; like catching whoever had done this to her.

Lately though, Rossi had been watching him strangely. Spencer didn't understand what the man wanted; he didn't know him after all. And never would, Reid would make sure of that.He didn't need anyone's pity, especially not from an old friend of Gideon's who would most probably soon leave the same way.

Jason,

I think I messed up royally on the last case. I think I'm messed up, period. Haley sent me the divorce documents… She wouldn't even talk to me, she just sent them by post! Can you believe this!? My wonderful, beautiful, understanding and ever supportive wife – soon to be ex-wife… – doesn't even bear to talk to me face to face anymore. Right after I got the papers, Spencer and I went into a prison to interrogate a death-row inmate who had requested us. And I got reckless to the point where I nearly got both of us killed. If it hadn't been for Spencer's quick thinking, I think we'd at least be severely injured by now.

Spencer… I don't even know what to say anymore, Jason. He's fading away in front of our very eyes and we're completely powerless to do anything but watch in horrified fascination.

Every member of the team has tried to talk to him multiple times; without success. He's so closed off, I think he can't even hear us anymore.

Even Dave has been doing his best, despite not knowing him well yet. And he won't with the way Spencer's keeping him at arm's length. I think he deliberately pushes Dave away and brushes off all his attempts at becoming friends. You know why, don't you? It's because he reminds him of you! He's your age and you used to work together. He wants to be a father-figure to Spencer. And the boy is terrified of being abandoned again. I think he figures if he doesn't have anyone to lose, he can't be disappointed again. You did this to him, and I hate you for that.

I want you to come back and make it better again, before we lose him to his grief! Where are you, you coward, why won't you help us before it's too late?

Aaron

Spencer felt his arm being suddenly and unexpectedly grabbed and soon after that, he was dragged up the stairs from the bullpen and shoved rather harshly into one of the offices.

"Rossi, what the hell?" – He demanded angrily, rubbing his arm.

"You tell me, Kiddo." – Answered the older man calmly as he locked the door and carefully pocketed the key, making sure the young man couldn't escape. – "And your explanation better be good."

"Hey, what are you doing!? You're my superior, this is illegal! You can't lock me in; this is harassment! I'll report you!" – The young man threatened, looking for all the world like a frightened puppy cowering before its master.

Rossi didn't seem too impressed with the promise of official retaliation.

"You do that. Right after you told me what's going on in your head."

"I don't have to tell you anything! Let me go! Hotch!" – He shouted, pleading for help, drumming on the wall that connected the unit chief's office with his current prison. – "Hooootch!"

"You can rage and cry out as long as you want, Kiddo, but nobody will come to your rescue. I'm not hurting you; I want to help."

"I don't need your help! I don't need anyone's help. I need to be let out. You can go and tell the others their plan didn't work out, 'cos I'm not going to talk to you! Leave me alone!"

"Tough, because as long as you're not talking, you'll remain here. I have time."

"Well, I don't! Some of us have work to do! Not everyone is a celebrity who can do anything and get away with it, you know."

"You can insult me as much as you want, it won't get you anywhere. Right now, my job is to make sure you don't kill yourself and your job is to let me help you."

"Bullshit! This whole thing is crazy!"

"Well, what can I say: this is a crazy world. So?"

"So what?"

Rossi sat down behind his desk and motioned for the boy to take place on the couch. The youngest agent, of course, refused, and continued walking in circles, much like a caged wild animal.

The older profiler sighed. He wasn't sure he was ready for this. But he had to try. Hotch and all the others had agreed that this was their last chance before… well, before they wouldn't have any hope anymore.

"So, I want you to tell me why you're doing this to yourself."

"I'm not doing anything to myself! I'm going to have you chucked out for this though! Yours will be the shortest career the BAU has ever seen!"

Rossi rubbed his temple to try and stop the headache before it would hit him with full force. He had expected some difficulties but nothing like that. Maybe the boy was too far gone already to be reached? Maybe they were too late? No, he couldn't think like that.

"Look, Kiddo…"

"I. Am. Not. Your. Kid."

"I'm sorry. Spencer then. I know I'm not the one you want. Okay? I get it. But right now, sadly, I'm the only one you got. I know it sucks but I can't offer anything else. I can't get you Gideon, but I can be here for you myself."

"And I can throw this picture to the floor and stomp on it. I will if you don't open the door right now." – Said Reid, face bright red and heaving heavily in anger. He held Rossi's beloved 15th century original painting precariously in his hand, ready to drop it any second. The one that had cost more than his first house.

The older man shrugged.

"It that's the price… Your life is worth more."

"You think I believe this shit?"

"Don't you?"

"No. I don't believe you really care about me. Why would you? You don't even know me, and I've been nothing but utterly rude to you ever since you've been here."

"That I noticed, Kiddo. Sorry: Spencer. But I also know it's deliberate, because you're trying to protect yourself from another disappointment. But you'll see: I will be here for you for a very long time to come. Even you, stubborn as you are, can't make me go away. I'm not leaving."

The young man rolled his eyes and sarcastically said:

"Oh, where did I hear that before? Wait, I think it might have been in that very office… Yes, it was something along the lines 'I'm always here for you, son'."

"I know, and I'm very sorry. I won't make promises. At least not with words. You'll see my actions with time. But you have to be alive and well for that to work…"

"Let me out!"

"Sorry, I can't do that. We're going to talk and then we're going to eat. Together. And after that – only after that, mind you – you'll be let out."

Reid was so angry, he looked close to breathing fire.

"You're sick." – He spat.

"Maybe. But so are you."

"I'm not going to talk. I'm not going to say anything anymore." – With that, Reid crossed his arms like a petulant child, turned to look out the window and refused to react to Rossi's attempts in any way.

This went on for another half an hour. By that time, the older agent had to admit defeat and – completely heartbroken – unlocked the door. Reid was gone within the second, throwing one last glare full of hate at him.

Rossi could see Aaron sitting at his desk in his own office, door wild open, watching his old friend expectantly and hopefully. David hated to disappoint him, so he just silently shook his head before retreating into his own sanctuary, shutting himself in. But not before he saw Hotch crumble. He knew he had failed.

Jason,

I just signed the divorce papers. I haven't seen Jack in ages and I figured Haley wouldn't let me near him unless I do this for her. So, it's done, all hope's gone.

Oh, and if we're already by 'hope': we just tried one last, drastic move to reach Spencer. And it failed. I don't know what else to do and the others are just as clueless and now Dave is blaming himself on top of everything. It's my fault too. Soon, I'll have to declare the boy unfit for duty and send him home. I probably should have done it already when he collapsed yesterday from sheer exhaustion and starvation, but I know he won't survive it, so I'm stalling. I think that's it though, now he's lashing out at everyone. Morgan is shouting back but it's more in desperation than in anger. JJ and Garcia are crying hysterically, and Emily is… well, she's Emily. I can't hear her but I can imagine her broken expression. And Spencer is screaming over everyone's voices in the bullpen at his friends for ganging up on him. He doesn't understand we're doing it out of love; he can only see enemies now. I would send him to counseling but we all know how that would turn out… His biggest fear would come true: he'd be locked up just like his mother. I won't do that to him. I'll probably have a lot of explaining to do to Stauss because of the commotion they're causing.

Will you come to his funeral at least? Oh, but I won't be able to invite you, will I? For that I'd need to know where you are, and I don't.

Do you even care?

Aaron

Reid was deep in thoughts – had been for hours. He could afford it, since he didn't have better things to do. Lying helplessly in a hospital bed, being hooked up to various IVs and heart monitors didn't leave much freedom for a patient. It was, of course, all his fault. Really, it was one thing to pass out – for the third time this week – but had it been absolutely necessary to do it on top of the stairs and then tumble down and only come to a halt at the bottom in a pathetic heap of misery? Every time he tried to move his right wrist, he was reminded of his own stupidity and uselessness. But there was no helping with the pain now – not without risking a setback in his already fragile drugfree period, so he just suffered instead in silence. There was nobody to listen to him anyway.

The others were away, if his memory served him correctly, then in Miami. Nowadays, his normally unerring mind had been betraying him more and more. Frankly, it was quite frightening for someone who had depended on is brains his whole life. No wonder Hotch had declared him unfit a few days ago and forced him to stay behind while they had to travel.

It didn't matter. Nothing mattered.

Jason,

we just got the dreaded call: Spencer is in the hospital. It doesn't look good. Apparently, he fainted – again – and fell down the stairs. He broke his right wrist, two ribs and fractured his left ankle. According to the doctor, he's also covered in cuts and bruises and only most of them can be explained by the fall. Not all. Not those parallel lines on the inside of his left wrist, for example, made by a sharp object; probably a razor blade. Or the halfmoon shaped bloody indentions on his palms. On a positive note: he didn't have any drugs in his system and they couldn't find any punctures on his body anywhere. It seems he's clean, for all it's worth now. I'm incredibly proud of him for that but it's not sure I'll get the opportunity to tell him so.

We're in Miami. I finally had to do what I'd feared the most: I had to leave him behind. So, we're states away, working on a case and he's there in Quantico, all alone. Even Garcia is with us and I don't have anyone I trust enough to ask to visit him. Normally, I'd ask Haley of course, but now… well, you know about the situation.

The divorce is final; official. We talked and I got to spend two days with Jack. I made sure he understands it's not his fault and that we both love him just the same as before. He needs to know he's not alone and can count on his parents because you see what happens when someone feels lost.

Jason, I don't know what to do! I have a severely malnourished, totally drained, injured, not quite 21-year-old boy I can't seem to be able to help. If he'll live to see his birthday next week, he'll definitely spend it in hospital.

I've sent Dave to him, his on his way with the jet. I can't give a damn if I'll have to pay for the 'misuse' of FBI property myself; this is the fastest way. And God knows, Dave needs this chance more than Reid himself right now… He has been nearly as depressed as Spencer ever since his last attempt at helping him failed.

Our team is falling to pieces. What do I do?

Where are you, why aren't you here to help? How could you do this to us? To me? To Spencer? I hate you!

Aaron

Waking up hurt. Opening his eyes even more so. But none of that pain could begin to compare to the one he felt upon spotting a broken-looking David Rossi with tears in his eyes sitting at his bedside, cradling his less injured hand in his much bigger ones.

"Rossi… I'm so very-very sorry…" – He began but soon trailed off, not sure how to continue. Would the older man even want to talk to him after the way he had treated him ever since he had joined the team?

He didn't understand himself: normally he knew he was friendly and easy-going (if a bit weird…) with others and always welcoming of new members. When Elle left, it had hurt too. He still missed her. But that didn't mean he lashed out at Prentiss. Well, not until later, that is, he had to realize… He had taken out his anger on her more than on anyone else after Hankel… Oh, what a mess! What had happened to him!? If he were questioned now by some UnSub about his sins, he'd have a lot to confess. But at least they had talked about it later with Emily and made up. The same couldn't be said for the newest member though.

It hadn't been so long ago when he was the new one. Oh, how frightened he had been of the others' reactions! And then Gideon had reassured him and he had, of course, been right. Everyone had been nice. What would he have felt like, had they done to him what he had been doing to Rossi?

"Kiddo. How are you feeling?" – Asked the older man gently, rousing him from his thoughts.

"Ashamed…" – Admitted Reid. – "I don't really know what to say to make it better, Rossi. I'm normally not like that. But I'm sure you don't believe me… I understand. I think… I think I'm not coping very well with the… stuff that has been going on recently in my life."

Rossi sighed and brushed his hair back a bit. This gesture reminded him so much of Gideon that it should have torn at his heart… And yet, somehow, it didn't. As a matter of fact, it felt just as comforting as with Gideon had.

"You don't have to be ashamed. I know very well, you're not like that. I know you've been through a lot. I just wish you'd have let us help you."

"I wish that too now." – He whispered.

"Do you think we could start over?"

"You mean you really would give me another chance?"

"Of course, Kiddo. My name's David Rossi. I'm glad to finally meet you."

Jason,

I realize it's been a long time. Things have been better lately, though we all still have a long way to go. But we're going there.

I have a schedule for my meetings with Jack and – unless I'm away on a case – I'm keeping to it. He seems to be all right with it, as long as he can call me anytime he wants to talk. Sometimes, I read to him a story in the evening over the phone to help him fall asleep. Haley has been very generous, letting us meet and call without restrictions. I must admit, we spend more quality time together now than we did before…

Spencer's 21st birthday wasn't nearly as relaxed and full of laughter as the 20th had been (Remember that silly hat and the trick candles? Poor boy was perplexed!), since we had to celebrate it in the hospital. JJ and Garcia did their best of course, bringing balloons and cakes. Not that he could eat it… According to the doctor, he had starved himself for so long that now he has to be introduced back to eating normal food gradually, otherwise, it would just all come back up again. Morgan was very happy to help him out and eat his slice instead. Dave has been cooking light soups for him, especially chicken soup. Spencer is very fond of that, even though, for some reason, he was very reluctant to try it first.

Guess what? Dave and him are nearly inseparable now. They play cards (Spencer refuses to as much as look at a chess board… wonder why?), they talk Star Trek and they tease the others together. Sometimes it's hard to decide which one of them is up to more mischief but since they've ganged up, Morgan doesn't stand a chance, not even having Garcia, Prentiss and JJ on his side. I, as unit chief, can't take part in a prank war, naturally… but if Spencer has a bit more leeway than others then… well, it's certainly not my fault.

He's back with us already, even traveling. His ribs and ankle are healed and the cast will come off his wrist soon. He cut his hair a bit after Garcia had put a pink ribbon in it once while he was asleep on the jet, but the others still find it long enough to ruffle whenever they're close enough to do so.

Dave has been trying to teach him to use chopsticks for when he'll be able to eat Chinese again, but it seems to be a wasted effort. I never thought we'd ever find something that boy is incapable of learning but, it would seem, we finally encountered his limit. He much sooner pokes out his own eyes with them than actually finds his mouth. It's hilarious to watch.

The team is getting stronger and working better together; I'm very proud of them all. Even Strauss seems to be placated – for now. We faced challenges and have overcome them. You weren't here to support us and you're not here now. But it's all right. Maybe you're battling your own demons, or maybe you even think you're doing us good by not burdening us with your problems? You needn't worry about it, we have always wanted to help each other. Anyway, I want you to know that we'll be fine. Spencer will be fine. It was touch and go for a while but he's looking much better now. And is happy.

And Jason? I don't really hate you. Well, not anymore. I hope you're all right, wherever you are.

I know you'll never read these letters. I know you don't have any idea what's been going on. But it helped writing these and I think I'll keep them as a reminder for myself that we can get over anything together. As a team. The best team I've ever had.

Aaron

Spencer carefully gave a push to the wooden door. It moved freely; it hadn't been locked then. Of course: who would have done it? He had been, most probably, the last one to set foot into the cabin, and he'd had other things to worry about back then than looking for a spare key. It had been emptied of any valuable, personal possessions, anyway.

The last time he'd been here, the place had looked very sinister, bordering on frightening. He had been already in the middle of a very hard stage of his life and it had just become so much worse in a matter of minutes after entering this little cottage. For a while after that, he had lost himself to self-pity and grief like it had never happened to him before, not even years before when his father had left him in a very similar manner.

Now thought, it was different. He stood in the middle of the small room and as he looked around, he could finally understand why his old mentor had liked coming here so much. It was all so peaceful and friendly. There were still some books left on the shelves, most of them about birds. There was also an old, battered chess board on the table, all set up and ready for the game that would never happen. He wouldn't touch it.

The kitchen was bare and the desk in the tiny study had been mostly cleared out as well. Stephen wouldn't have much to pack up when he'd claim the place. If he'd do so. If not then… who knew.

He slowly sat down onto the swivel chair, pulled up his legs and turned around a few times. He used to do that in the office when his thoughts had been running too quickly for him to keep up with them. Moving always helped. Nowadays it was a bit different, he was so much calmer now. He suspected, it was inevitable he should grow up some day. Morgan had teased him about finally being allowed to drink when he'd had his 21st birthday not so long ago… Not that he had the desire to do so but still, it was nice to finally be a full-fledged legal adult in everyone's eyes.

He then pulled a few items out of his satchel and positioned them on the desk the exact same way he had found the letter addressed to him a couple of months ago. This time, instead of a gun and a badge, it was a chessman (to be exact: a white knight) and two photos: one of the old team (with Elle and Gideon in it) and one with the current one beside an envelope addressed with elegant handwriting to 'Gideon'.

Having completed his task, Spencer stood up and walked to the door. Taking one last look around the small cabin, he stepped outside, and, squinting in the sunshine, made his way towards the car and its patiently waiting occupant.

"You done here, Kiddo?" – Asked the older man as soon as Reid sat in next to him and fastened his seatbelt.

"Yes, we may go."

"All right. What do you say we check out that Italian restaurant we saw on our way here? It might not be as authentic as my cooking but it will do for now."

"That's a great idea. I haven't had a good spaghetti Bolognese for ages."

"If you think you're up to it then let's go." – With that, he started the car and turned around, quickly leaving the little house behind.

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

Gideon,

I know that you'll probably never read this letter. It's all right, it feels good to write it anyway.

Since you've been gone things have been… difficult, to say the least. I guess you could say it's been a roller coaster ride but certainly not the good kind.

Hotch is divorced now and Haley has custody but at least he gets to see Jack often.

Morgan and Garcia are the same as ever: flirting and going on everyone's nerves with their constant bickering. You should have seen Strauss' face when she called Garcia and she picked it up in her usual manner. It was hilarious.

Emily is part of the team as if she had always been there. I also think they have sorted things out with her mother a bit, or at least, they have come to a fragile understanding. She's not so stressed anymore when she has to meet her for dinner or when she visits her – sometimes in the Bureau.

Guess what! JJ had a boyfriend: William LaMontagne Jr. Remember him? Also, she's revealed that she's pregnant! Incredible, huh? She won't resign though, she'll just take a maternity leave and then she'll come back. I don't know if we'll get someone to temporarily fill her place but I have sworn to be very nice to them if we do.

And Rossi… I don't even know where to begin. I was so rude to him, you wouldn't even imagine. I mean, you saw I could be cruel when I lashed out at Emily but this was even worse than that. I don't understand myself, it's like things got all wrong in my head. I had to nearly die to finally come to my senses. It wouldn't matter so much, if I hadn't made anyone worry and suffer with my antics. I'm really sorry for all that and I have promised never to do it again. He's kinda like you were for me now: we play cards (I don't think I'll even want to play chess again), and he has started teaching me to cook. But I think he'll give up after that fiasco yesterday when I set his favorite pot on fire… It's not my fault! It's his, because he didn't tell me that potatoes are flammable! He said he'd never seen it happen before. But you know: I like proving that impossible things are, indeed, possible.

I miss you, Gideon. Plain as that. I miss us playing chess, our talks, your advices… I miss everything about you. But I'm not angry anymore. I think I've finally come to terms with what happened and I'm able to move on. I have accepted your decision to leave, though I still don't understand why it had to happen like that. Couldn't you have talked to me? Couldn't we keep in touch? Anyway, I'll probably never understand that part and nobody else can help me with that.

But they've helped with everything else, and I'm fine now. Really, I am.

I'm using your gun; I hope you don't mind. I don't think you'll miss it but if you decide to come back, you can have it again. You have to know that it has saved me a few times already. I can shoot much better now; I don't think I'll have to worry about my next qualification. Hotch said he's proud.

Also, I don't need Morgan's help anymore to fasten my bulletproof vest. They don't leave me behind anymore, I get to go with the team when we arrest someone or when we have to check out a location. They don't treat me like a child anymore, and I'm glad.

Mom is better again. They tried some new meds on her until they found one that finally worked. She recognizes me again and her doctors allow me to call her from time to time. I still can't visit her though… They advised to give her more time to sort out her memories because she's still a bit confused. Rossi promised to come with me when I'll be finally allowed to her. She was happy to meet you, so I'm sure she won't mind the company now either.

I think that's all for now. I'll leave this letter for you to find in your cabin. I don't think you'll ever come back. But if you do, maybe you'll read it and know that I'm not angry. That I'll still want to talk to you when you're ready to get in touch.

Oh, and sorry for the foreign handwriting. My right wrist is finally free from the cast but it's still sore, so I write this with my left hand. Did you know that I'm ambidextrous? It's not something I advertise a lot. I can write with both hands, it's just a bit different from what you're used to. I thought it funny to learn two different fonts with two hands when I was a kid and discovered this 'talent'. Now I'm stuck with them forever, I'm afraid.

Good bye, Gideon. Hope to see you again one day.

Spencer