Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.

Chapter 1

Dr. Spencer Reid was just finishing a 500,000-word treatise on the climatological effects of filling the world with bright white sheep when the doorbell rang. On the one hand, the bright whiteness of the sheep would reflect sunlight into space, much as snow or ice would reflect sunlight, thus slowing the progression of global warming caused by greenhouse gases such as carbon dioxide and methane. On the other hand, the sheep themselves, like all ruminants, would produce flatulence, thus pumping their own supply of methane, a greenhouse gas even greenhousier than carbon dioxide, into the fragile atmosphere. After deriving and employing many heretofore unknown mathematical equations, complete with fudge factors to avoid dividing by zero, Dr. Spencer Reid concluded that it was extremely inadvisable to fill the world with bright white sheep. It was a deathwish for Life on Earth, and Dr. Spencer Reid, whose duties included saving humans from humans and saving humans from humanity and saving humanity from humans and saving humanity from humanity, was damn well going to let the world in on this unnecessary and patently obvious information, no matter how many people got their eyeballs stuck upwards in their ocular orbits from rolling their eyes into their heads.

"What's up, Doc?" the doorbell sounded its default Bugs Bunny ringtone.

Reid saved his document and popped up from his armchair to answer the door. He caught his breath at the sight before him.

It was Hotch.

Reid froze his eyes, nose, mouth, and other facial features into an expression of idiotic blankness. His mind churned at a ridiculously fast pace, like Speedy Gonzalez and Taz the Tasmanian Devil put together. Why had Hotch shown up at his door on a Friday evening? Why had Hotch shown up unexpected and unannounced? For some unknowable reason, Reid felt like a little boy caught red-handed by his Mommy or Daddy. He feared that Hotch had come to reprimand him for some unknown transgression that he had unknowingly committed during the work week. Dr. Spencer Reid, like all founts of unnecessary-until-it-became-necessary knowledge, was afraid of the unknown.

"Hi Reid, sorry to barge in on you like this," Hotch said, stepping into the apartment as Reid stumbled backwards out of the way.

"Hi Hotch...Uh...Welcome," Reid said, maintaining an expression of idiotic blankness while defusing his face of guilty anxiety and infusing his face with innocent nonchalance.

"I have a huge favor to ask of you, Reid," Hotch said, bringing forward the reason for the favor.

It was Jack, holding a plushy triceratops toy and sucking a large green lollipop. Reid looked down at the Young Hotchner. He shuffled his feet back and forth against the kitchen floor, uncertain of his next step. The Young Hotchner stared at the nervously shifting man, his eyes boring, as the man imagined, into the man's pajama pants. Reid felt his leg, the one nearest the Young Hotchner, itching and burning beneath its Spiderman-covered flannel. Being stared at by Jack was like being stared at by a miniature version of Hotch. Dr. Spencer Reid, like all child luddites, was afraid of minimans, minimans being the term that child luddites used to refer to children.

"Do you remember my brother Sean?" Hotch asked, frowning in concern at Reid's spasmodically twitching facial features.

"Sure," Reid replied robotically, "Sean Hotchner, Chef, specialties chocolate-covered bacon, Thanksgiving turducken, and wedding cakes in the shape of the Taj Mahal, representing eternal love in life and death..." he stopped at a deepening of Hotch's frown.

"Sean had a little accident while delivering a wedding cake to the Hamptons," Hotch explained. "He tripped over a crack in the sidewalk and fell face-first onto the dome of the Taj Mahal, where the bride and groom figurines were standing. The figurines ended up in his mouth, and he accidentally swallowed them. He's in surgery to remove them, and I'd like to be there when he wakes up. I've got a flight to New York that leaves in an hour. Can you watch Jack for the weekend?"

"Of course!" Reid declared, so relieved that he was not in trouble that he found himself agreeing to associate with the frightening miniman.

"Thank you so much, Reid," Hotch said, bending down to bid his son farewell. "Jack, remember what I told you before we left the house?" he asked his son.

"Be good," Jack nodded cheerfully, "Be good to Uncle Spenny, and don't make Uncle Spenny cry."

"Yes, Jack, that's right," Hotch smoothed his son's messy brown hair. "Daddy's going to visit Uncle Sean for the weekend. Daddy's going to be back to pick you up on Sunday night or Monday morning, OK? Think you're going to be alright with Uncle Spenny for that long, Jack?"

"Be good," Jack nodded again, "Be good to Uncle Spenny, and don't make Uncle Spenny cry."

"Think you're going to be alright with Jack for that long, Reid?" Hotch asked.

"Of course!" Reid declared, painting a false wild-eyed smile upon his still twitching facial features. "We're going to have tons of fun this weekend! Aren't we, Jack?" he bent down to address the child.

The child nodded without speaking, his mouth occupied with the lollipop. Reid hoped that Jack intended to keep his promise about not making Uncle Spenny cry.

"Alright, that's settled then. What a relief!" Hotch backed out of the apartment, simultaneously wheeling in a suitcase to take his place. "These are some of Jack's clothes, toys, and books," he explained the suitcase. "You two look like you're getting along pretty well, so I'm going to leave you to it. Thanks again, Reid. I really appreciate you doing this on such short notice. I called everyone else first and got their answering machines, but I was running out of time, and I figured that you'd be home on Friday night. Call me if you need anything. I'll check back in as soon as I get to the hospital."

"No problem, Hotch," Reid waved at his boss as Hotch turned the corner to head down the stairs, "I hope Sean's alright," he wiggled his fingers at the departing figure.

"Bye Daddy!" Jack waved his lollipop.

"Hi Uncle Spenny!" Jack grinned through a mouthful of green-tinted teeth.

"Hi Jack," Reid greeted the small creature. "Here, let me close the door. We don't want to let the cold in and..." he didn't finish the thought before he spotted a blonde woman turning the corner from the stairs.

It was JJ, holding Henry in her arms and dragging a suitcase behind her.

"Reid, can you do me a favor this weekend?" JJ asked breathlessly. "It's Will. He flew back to Louisiana on Wednesday, for a few days off to hang out with his friends at home. They went fishing on a fanboat this afternoon, and Will fell into the bayou, got sucked into the fan, and lost a small piece of his scalp. He might have lost a small piece of his skull as well, leaving him with a hole in his head. The surgeons are patching him up right now. I'm flying down there to take care of him, so I need someone to watch Henry for the weekend. Can you, Spence? Can you please? I called everyone else first and got their answering machines, but I was running out of time, and I figured that you'd be home on Friday night. Please, Spence?" the worried flustered woman held out the chubby blonde toddler sucking his thumb.

"Of course!" Reid declared, unfurling the false wild-eyed smile that characterized his state of false but convincing confidence.

He gathered Henry into his arms and giggled shyly as the child wrapped a pair of saliva-covered arms around his neck.

"I brought over some of Henry's clothes and toys," JJ wheeled in a suitcase, "And a supply of diapers," JJ dumped a bag of Huggies onto the floor, "And a list of emergency phone numbers and food allergies," JJ handed over a color-coded laminated chart. "OK, I think that's all there is for now. My flight leaves in an hour, so I've got to skedaddle if I'm going to catch it. I'll check back in as soon as I get off the plane in New Orleans. Henry," she addressed her son, "Be good, Henry. Mommy's going to go take care of Daddy now. Daddy's going to be just fine, and Mommy and Daddy are going to come back for you in no time at all. You be good to Uncle Spenny, Henry, and no matter what you do, don't make Uncle Spenny cry," she kissed Henry on the forehead.

"Good!" Henry laughed, "Spenny cry!" Henry clapped.

Reid looked into the child's big blue eyes, searching for a sign of understanding, feeling a sneaking suspicion that Henry had misinterpreted JJ's orders about not making Uncle Spenny cry.

"Think you're going to be alright with Henry for the weekend, Spence?" JJ asked.

"Of course!" Reid declared, declarations of false confidence now an ingrained habit of his. "I've already got Jack for the weekend. Hotch's brother Sean swallowed the bride and groom figurines from the Taj Mahal, and Hotch had to fly to New York to take care of him. Actually, I'm glad that you brought Henry over. The more the merrier!" he twirled Henry around, "Isn't that right, Jack?" he asked as Jack latched onto his leg and twirled around with them.

JJ looked down at Jack, noticing the Young Hotchner for the first time. Her maternal fears vanished in a flash of insight. If Hotch was willing to leave his beloved offspring with Reid for the weekend, then there was no reason for JJ to experience a single qualm about leaving her beloved offspring in the same position. She ruffled Henry's hair, Jack's hair, and Reid's hair, before backing into the hallway and turning to head down the stairs.

"Thank you so much, Spence," JJ waved back, "Call me if you need anything," she made phone fingers next to her ear, "Bye Henry! Bye Jack!" she blew kisses at the children.

Reid watched JJ disappear around the corner. He shrank back into the apartment, closing and locking the door behind him. He peeled off the expression of false wild-eyed confidence and pasted on an expression of genuine sad-eyed forlornity. His sense of bravado had vanished, because he had glommed onto a single statement that had emerged, in identical words, from both Hotch and JJ. They had both said the exact same thing. They had both called everyone else first, and only when they had found that everyone else was busy had they been desperate enough to leave their beloved offspring with him for the weekend. Reid knew that he was a child luddite, but the words, spoken in the same breezy tone, as if nothing could have been more obvious, still hurt his feelings. The words goaded him into a state of resolve. He was going to be the best damn babysitter that had ever slithered, crawled, or lumbered the Earth. He was going to be SpiderMommyAndDaddy, the kind that one would not wish to encounter if one found oneself shrunk down to arthropod level and trapped in the silky embrace of an arachnid web. When he was through with them this weekend, Jack Hotchner and Henry LaMontagne were going to be SpiderMinimans, the kind that one would not wish to discover at one's window the night the electricity went out. Afterwards, he was going to publish a 1,000,000-word treatise on the subject of parenting, and all who worshipped at the altar of Dr. Spock would switch their allegiance to worship at the altar of Dr. Reid instead.

Reid stared at the minimans staring back at him, all bright eyes, soft cheeks, and thumb- or lollipop-sucking lips. He herded his small flock towards the couch in the adjoining living room. There, he sat them down to converse with each other, while he busied himself with his laptop, researching and studying the tenets of proper parenting on Wikipedia the Free Encyclopedia.

"Physical security, physical development, intellectual security, intellectual development, emotional security, emotional development," Reid recited a chart of parental duties from the "Parenting" article on Wikipedia.

"Physical security," he read, "...shelter, clothing, nourishment, safety, health..." he snapped the laptop shut before he could be further overwhelmed by the sheer number of parental duties.

Reid glanced up, deer-in-headlights style, at Jack and Henry sitting on the couch across the coffee table. He checked the coffee table. It was oval, so it bore no hard edges that the minimans could hit their heads on. He checked the couch. It was deep, so it supported the minimans with no danger of the minimans rolling off and hitting their heads on the floor. He checked the minimans. They looked exceedingly bored, their wandering eyes and twiddling thumbs warning of dark angry storm systems ahead.

Reid had an idea. He would feed the minimans the Fruit of the Stupid Box to occupy their attention while he prepared the evening meal. Later, when the minimans had been fed, bathed, put to bed, and awakened again, he would attempt to undo the intellectual damage.

"Who like cartoons?" Reid asked brightly.

"Me, me, me!" Jack raised his hand.

"Tooooooons!" Henry bounced his large blonde head.

"OK," Reid grabbed a shoebox of DVDs from the bottom shelf of the coffee table. "Cartoons it is! How do you like Looney Tunes?" he held up a colorful Warner Brothers DVD for Jack's approval.

"Looney Tunes?" Jack frowned, "What's that?"

"Bunny! Piggy!" Henry pointed at the pictures on the cover.

"You don't know Looney Tunes?" Reid asked in amazement. "You don't watch Looney Tunes at home? What a travesty! Oh, Hotch, how could you not introduce your beloved offspring to the glory of Looney Tunes?"

With a huff of total disbelief, partial disappointment, and annular anger, Reid started the DVD.

"Here, Jack, Henry, you two sit here and watch these cartoons while I make dinner, OK?" Reid suggested nervously.

The minimans stared, without responding, at the Stupid Box. Their attention was occupied by the bunnies, piggies, duckies, kitties, birdies, coyoties, roadrunnies, mousies, and Tasmanian devilies filling the colorful screen.

"What's up, Doc?" said Bugs Bunny from the Stupid Box.

"What's up, Doc?" Jack and Henry clapped and bounced in unison.

Reid tiptoed away from the mesmerized minimans, hoping that the Spell of the Stupid Box would hold their attention long enough for him to provide nourishment. He scurried into the kitchen, where he could still see the minimans over the back of the couch. He was glad that he had not needed to take more drastic action. If he had not been able to see the minimans from the kitchen, he would have resorted to handcuffing the minimans to the coffee table and each other to ensure their health and safety. That would have caused significant psychological damage, possibly severe enough to turn the minimans into a pair of psychotic UnSubs somewhere down the line. Thirty years from now, when the minimans had grown into sadistic serial killers, the wizened decrepit BAU would have to chase them down in walkers and wheelchairs. Reid would be the only one not too old and shaky to fire his gun at them, thus ensuring that the murderers would get away to continue their heinous crime spree.

In the kitchen, Reid extinguished the cluster of neurons in his brain that had converted adorable children into sadistic serial killers. He studied the list of Henry's food allergies. Henry was allergic to gluten, ruling out any and all grain products for dinner. Henry was allergic to beef and pork, ruling out the hot dogs that Reid had considered serving. Henry was allergic to all vegetables except peas and carrots, and JJ had noted that Henry hated both peas and carrots. Reid looked over at Henry, studied the list, and looked over at Henry again. He wondered how the child had managed to survive this long on Earth.

Reid had an idea. For dinner, he would substitute potatoes for grains, eggs for meat, and peas and carrots for peas and carrots. Where JJ had failed to instill in Henry an appreciation for peas and carrots, Reid would succeed. Under the guidance of SpiderMommyAndDaddy, Henry would eat his peas and carrots, and he would like them too.

Reid started four pots of water boiling on the stove, one on each burner. While the water boiled, he averted his eyes to prevent the water from spiting him with non-boilance. It was a trick that he had learned as a chemist, the first time that he had stepped foot into a laboratory. "Never make eye contact with the water," he reminded himself. He tied an apron around his waist and retrieved several large brown potatoes and several large brown eggs from the refrigerator. He peeled the potatoes, poked away the dark spots, cut them up into small wedges, and dropped them into a pot of boiling water. He dropped the eggs into another pot. From the freezer, he retrieved a bag of peas and a bag of carrots. He poured the contents separately into the other two pots.

Reid waited at the stove, whistling softly to himself and grinning with satisfaction at his genius-inspired fully-boiled dinner menu. He wondered if Sean Hotchner, Chef, would approve. Perhaps Sean, when he had been voided of bride and groom figurines from the Taj Mahal wedding cake, would incorporate Reid's fully-boiled dishes into the menu at his restaurant. They could compose the Christmas Dinner Special. Reid grinned wider, congratulating himself while utterly deluding himself about his culinary creations. They could only compose the Christmas Dinner Special at a prison colony on Pluto, where all the sadistic UnSubs caught by the BAU had to spend the rest of their miserable lives, digging for minerals on the frigid demoted planetoid.

"Uncle Spenny, I'm hungry!" Jack wandered over from the Stupid Box, Henry crawling along at his feet.

"I know, Jack, I know," Reid replied, "I'm hungry too. Don't worry, Jack, dinner's coming right up! Do you like potatoes, Jack? Taters, Henry? What about eggs? And yummy peas and carrots?"

"Ewwwwwww! Peas and carrots! I hate peas and carrots!" Jack scrunched up his face.

"Yuck! Yuck! Yuck! Yuck! Yuck! Yuck! Yuck!" Henry shook his head back and forth until Reid, concerned about the effects of whiplash upon the developing brain, reached out to halt the behavior.

"You know, Jack," Reid whispered secretively, "I used to hate peas and carrots too, back when I was your age. But one day, I discovered the right way to eat them. Peas and carrots are totally yummy if you eat them in just the right way. I bet you only think they're icky, because you've never eaten them the right way."

"Eat them the right way?" Jack asked, "How do I eat them the right way?"

"Let me demonstrate," Reid said, filling a small bowl with a helping of peas and a small plate with a helping of carrots. "Listen up, you two, and watch carefully," he filled his voice with awe and wonder, "Let Uncle Spenny show you the right way to eat peas and carrots."

With a large spoon, Reid mashed up the peas until they were nothing but a green mush in the bowl. He plucked two warm carrot sticks out of the plate and stuck them, officiously and one at a time, into his two nostrils. He plucked another warm carrot stick out of the plate and dipped it into the pea mush before biting it in half and chewing and swallowing in tasty satisfaction. Jack and Henry stared, eyes widening and bottoms bouncing from their positions on the kitchen floor.

"I want to try it! I want to try it!" Jack screamed.

"Me try!" Henry concurred.

Reid grinned evilly. He motioned for the minimans to return to their positions on the couch as he brought over a tray of peas and carrots. He picked the four thinnest carrot sticks, thin enough to stick into miniature nostrils but not thin enough to be sucked into miniature lungs, and held them out for Jack and Henry to stick into their nostrils. He held up a mirror for the minimans to inspect their appearance. They squealed in delight and happily dipped carrot sticks into pea mush, giving Reid a minute to mash up the potatoes and eggs, combining them into a mixture that also included generous helpings of ketchup and mustard. He poured three glasses of milk, grabbed a tin of cookies that Garcia had brought him earlier that day, and plopped himself down on the floor next to the couch.

The minimans and their keeper relished their evening meal amidst the cross-dressing antics of Bugs Bunny as he-she-it tried to escape the dim-witted rifle-toting Elmer Fudd. After dinner, when all the peas and carrots had disappeared down regular and miniature gullets alike, when even the nostril carrots had been dipped into pea mush and consumed, when the keeper had wailed for a full minute upon the floor for allowing the minimans to consume their nostril carrots, it was bathtime.

On its own, bathtime was uneventful, if blaring high-pitched squealing, wild uninhibited splashing, and total bathroom destruction could be considered uneventful. Even less eventful was the eventual but inevitable event that caused the keeper to end up in the bathtub with the minimans. The keeper flipped himself out of the bathtub, dripping and bubbling from every surface, as the minimans flailed their miniature limbs against the water, sending additional units of dihyrogen monoxide splashing all over the bathroom walls.

One by one, the keeper lifted the minimans out of the bathtub. He wrapped them in bath towels to keep them warm as he hunted for pajamas in their suitcases. When the minimans had been dried and dressed in matching Spiderman pajamas, ones that matched the keeper's own Spiderman pajamas, it was time for the keeper to cajole them into bed.

"But I'm not sleepy!" Jack protested, "I wanna watch some more Looney Tunes!"

Henry yawned a miniature yawn.

"How are you going to turn into Spiderman if you don't go to bed?" Reid asked Jack in a serious tone, as if negotiating with an UnSub in the interrogation room. "Don't you remember the story of how Peter Parker turned into Spiderman? Peter Parker was a bespectacled young dork who got bitten by a radioactive spider at the museum. He didn't turn into Spiderman right away. He only turned into Spiderman after he woke up the following morning, after the spider venom had done its work overnight. The following morning, Peter Parker woke up with the agility and proportionate strength of an arachnid. In my opinion, Peter Parker would never had turned into Spiderman if he had not gone to bed early the night before."

"Really?" Jack considered the information. "Did Peter Parker really have to go to bed to turn into Spiderman?"

"Yes, he did," Reid explained, "He had to go to bed early...And he wanted to go to bed early, because he was all dizzy and discombobulated from the spider bite."

"Dis...com...bobul...ated?" Jack healed some of the intellectual damage caused by the Stupid Box.

"Discombobulated," Reid repeated.

"Discombobulated!" Jack repeated back, "Discombobulated!" he raced down the hallway towards the bedroom.

Reid scooped up an already sleeping Henry and followed Jack into the bedroom. He hoped that Jack did not have an eidetic memory. He hoped that by the time Jack woke up the following morning, he would have forgotten the bullshit that his keeper had fed him about Peter Parker turning into Spiderman after a good night's sleep. The keeper was deathly afraid that the miniman would wake up on Saturday morning, demanding to know why he had not acquired the agility and proportionate strength of an arachnid. The emotional damage from such an event would take years and years to undo. Jack would turn into a sadistic UnSub even earlier than Reid had anticipated.

In the bedroom, Jack climbed into a high metal-framed bed. Reid was duly impressed with Jack's athletic ability. He raised the covers and laid Henry gently beneath the warm down quilt. Jack wiggled into the sheets on the other side of the bed and waited for Reid to tuck him in. Reid performed his parental duties.

When the minimans had been tucked in and warmed up for a good night's sleep, their keeper stepped back to admire the scene. Henry slept quietly with his plushy stegosaur while Jack waited expectantly with his plushy triceratops. Reid wondered what the hell Jack was waiting for.

"Once upon a time..." Reid decided that Jack was waiting for a bedtime story.

"No, Uncle Spenny, I don't wanna hear a story," Jack said, "I wanna go to sleep so I can turn into Spiderman. We want night-night kissies," he pointed, shyly and in turn, at his cheek, the cheek of his triceratops, Henry's cheek, and the cheek of Henry's stegosaur.

Uncle Spenny, relieved that he did not have to make up a bullshit bedtime story to exacerabate the emotional damage that he had already inflicted, obliged, shyly and in turn, planting kisses upon Jack's cheek, the cheek of Jack's triceratops, Henry's cheek, and the cheek of Henry's stegosaur. Something felt incomplete after the round of kissies, until Uncle Spenny remembered to kiss the cheek of his own allosaur on the nightstand.

When all the minimans and their reptilian cohorts had fallen asleep, the keeper returned to the bathroom to clean up the mess. In the hallway, he paused, concerned about letting the minimans out of his sight. What if a sadistic UnSub were to climb up the exterior of the building like Spiderman, cut a hole in the window, wiggle his way through it, and snatch the precious minimans as they slept?

No sooner had the question been raised than Reid squashed it underfoot. All this bullshitting was affecting his intelligence. No sadistic UnSub would come after the precious minimans as long as he was around. The sadistic UnSub was far more likely to come after him instead.

Reid shook his head to clear it and turned towards more immediate concerns.

In disgust, he fished a used diaper out of the bathroom trash can. He held the offensive object gingerly between his thumb and index finger, uncertain of his next step. What was he to do with such an object?

To Reid, who was able to recite the chemical composition of human excrement, the object was a Level 3 Biohazard, not suitable for disposal with the rest of the garbage. He required some method of neutralizing its bacterial properties before he tossed it out of the living room window into the open dumpster on the other side of the parking lot. He considered his options.

Heat was an excellent killer of bacteria. Should he microwave the diaper? Perhaps he could stick it into the 400-degree oven. He could also incinerate it in the natural gas fire of the stove burner.

None of the options appealed to him. He did not relish the thought of the biohazard contacting any area reserved for preparing culinary delights.

He considered sticking the diaper into the 0-degree freezer, but rejected the idea for the same reasons.

He considered zapping the diaper with ultraviolet radiation from a UV lamp that he stored in a closet, along with other chemical supplies that as a Ph.D.-certified chemist, Reid still used every once in awhile to satisfy his deep-seated desire to "Blow Shit Up".

Finally, in a stroke of brilliance, Reid stumbled upon a solution to the problem. He would freeze the diaper alright, but not in the refrigerator. He would do a far more thorough job of it. He would freeze the diaper in liquid nitrogen, from the tank of liquid nitrogen that he stored in his chemical supplies closet. The liquid nitrogen was normally used to make instant ice cream, but this time, it would be used to flash freeze human excrement at -196 degrees Celsius.

Reid wheeled a giant LN2 tank out of the closet. He turned the blue knob at the top, sighing in satisfaction as the tank dispensed colorless cryogenic liquid into a large Dewar flask. It squeaked as it did so, and Reid tapped his foot in time with the syncopated rhythms of the lab. When enough of the liquid had accumulated in the flask, he turned the knob to shut off the stream and wiped away the layer of bright white snow that had condensed upon the hose. He wheeled the tank back into its closet and patted its cold surface lovingly. He let go of all his inhibitions and kissed the cold surface. His lips were stuck for a panic-inducing stomach-dropping moment before he managed to wrench them away.

Back in the kitchen, Reid dipped the diaper into the flask. He let the diaper fizz away within the liquid for several minutes before he used a pair of insulated tongs to retrieve a solidly frozen chunk. He grabbed a small cardboard box from a cabinet, dropped the chunk into the box, and spent the next fifteen minutes wrapping the box in several layers of duct tape, each layer thicker than the one beneath it and each layer completely obscuring the cardboard sides. Finally, he placed the hermetically sealed box into a large black garbage bag, stepped to the living room window, took aim, and tossed the now-harmless object towards the open dumpster. He breathed a sigh of relief as the bag hit the near lip of the dumpster and maintained enough momentum to fall over the side. It disappeared out of sight and out of mind.

Contrary to the delusions of Dr. Spencer Reid, the LN2-frozen diaper inside the box under the duct tape inside the garbage bag did not compose a thermodynamically closed system. It still received infrared radiation from the rest of the universe, and in time, it would still thaw and putrefy. However, by the time that happened, the garbage company would have hauled the diaper to a landfill, and Dr. Spencer Reid would no longer be around to see it, hear of it, or speak of it. Dr. Spencer Reid was free to indulge, with a clear conscience, in his obsessive bleaching of the counters and mopping of the floors, without expending another thought upon the offending object. Dr. Spencer Reid did not even feel like a sadistic UnSub, dumping away a set of eviscerated entrails from one of the victims that he had exsanguinated and dismembered in the bathtub.

After the round of cleaning, Reid collapsed onto the couch. He was tired, light-headed from exhaustion and the fumes of cleaning products. Despite his weariness, he popped up, recalling that he had planned to check on Jack and Henry after he finished cleaning the bathroom and kitchen. He padded softly down the hallway, peeked into the bedroom doorway, and assured himself that the minimans were sound asleep, with no danger of hitting their heads on the floor after he had surrounded the bed, on all sides, with reinforced cardboard walls like the concentric rings of the Pentagon.

The keeper patted himself on the back, proud of his accomplishments for the evening. He had successfully performed his foremost parental duty. He had provided physical security.

It was only 10:00 PM. The night was still young. The keeper would wait up for calls from his superiors while he brainstormed and diagrammed some weekend plans for his minimans. When JJ called, he would cryptically inform her that Henry had loved his peas and carrots, and she would be so very jealous that he, SpiderMommyAndDaddy, had accomplished in one single evening what she had failed to accomplish in two whole years. Indeed, she would be green with envy, but also bursting with joy, and the next time she needed a babysitter, he would be the first one she called.

Additional physical/intellectual/emotional/psychological damage to be incurred over 5 remaining chapters. Methinks a trip to the Museum of Natural History is in store. Hopefully there will not be any sadistic UnSubs there.