An Excellent Example of Being Human

Neal hadn't been cooped up this long since he was in prison. And he still had a week to go. He was very much aware he was being punished, and secretly he knew he deserved it, but it didn't make his 2-week restriction any easier to take. At least after the first week Peter started letting him go to work with him again. Elizabeth had volunteered to work from home and be the young man's warden during the day, but five days into it, she had very nearly decided to set him free if only to retain her own sanity. His boundless energy coupled with boredom was enough to drive them both a little mad. When Peter returned home that night, El informed him she would have to return to work the following week because she had just secured a catering contract for a benefit concert at the Frick Museum. What she didn't know – and what the younger man decided she never needed to know – was that Neal had found his confiscated cell phone hidden in Peter's office. He made a couple of quick phone calls, pulled a few strings, and effectively ended both El's and his own days of tedium.

Peter suspected Neal had a hand in El's good fortune, but he couldn't prove it – yet. He appreciated El's willingness to 'babysit' Neal, but if he were truly honest, Peter realized he missed having the young conman around at work. Besides, now he could keep a closer eye on him.

Neal's desire to return to work was two-fold. Besides wanting to curb the monotony of the past week, he had been in brief contact with his new friend Spencer Reid. They were endeavoring to decipher an engraved code they found on an old wooden coin Reid's great-grandfather had hidden away. Reid had scanned the coin and emailed a copy to Neal. The conman knew it seemed familiar, but was having difficulty placing it.

For his relatively good behavior, on Thursday of the first week, Peter allowed him 20 minutes of internet access, but Neal was positive his keeper would check his browser history afterward. Because of this, after finding the email from Reid, he limited himself to browsing art supply sites. Hidden amongst the art sites was one with a chat room and a common haunt of one of Neal's many shady connections. She was able to confirm that the code on the coin was indeed a complex form of the Vigenere Cipher. Neal emailed his discovery to Reid, and then deleted it from his Sent Items folder. Neal knew that though limited by his own two-week restriction, Reid had some access to the government computers that could crack this code. He suspected though that Reid could probably crack the code on his own faster than any computer.

By Monday, Neal was itching to check his email again and hoped Peter hadn't disabled his access at the office. Entering the bullpen, Neal stopped at his desk, casually removed his jacket, hung it up, said good morning to Jones, rearranged a few items on his desk just to annoy him, flirted a bit with Dianna, and then made a beeline for his computer when Peter entered his office and closed the door. He was in luck. So far at least, his internet access was up and running.

XOXOXOXOXO

Reid would never admit this to anyone, but he really didn't mind being on restriction. He always stayed with Hotch during these times, and he found he enjoyed the company. Unless Morgan was forcing him to go out for the evening, the young doctor generally spent his evenings alone in his apartment. He was good at finding ways to occupy his active mind, but he often underestimated how enjoyable it was to eat a meal with a friend, or to discuss world events with another human. He could have done without the early bedtimes or the constant admonishments to slow down on his coffee intake, but otherwise these days were only vaguely like punishment for him.

Hotch knew all this, but it was good for the kid to have a little companionship now and then. It was good for Hotch too.

Because Hotch couldn't keep him home from work without raising suspicion, Reid was on desk duty instead. If the team went out on assignment, Reid stayed behind. Generally, Hotch tried to stay home as well, but when he couldn't Garcia was always more than happy to have the young man stay on her couch for a few days. Reid dreaded these times. It was bad enough that it was obvious to the entire team he was indeed being punished, but Garcia mothered him to death every time. The problem was that she was the absolute antithesis of his real mother, and he really had no idea how to handle all the attention. Hotch tried to encourage her to back off the young man a bit, but secretly he thought Reid could probably use a little motherly coddling now and then.

The young agent had spent as much free time as Hotch allowed (which wasn't much) secretly trying to break the Vigenere Cypher this past weekend. Of course he was aware of how it worked, but this one was far more complex than any he had ever encountered before. He had gotten nowhere with it and was starting to get frustrated. What he needed was the key. Traditionally, a key was provided, but there had been nothing but this coin hidden in the box. He had studied the box itself hoping a clue had been carved into the ornate design, but he had never found anything.

Come the second Monday of his restriction, Reid was happy to be back at work where he would have more access to information and more time to work on the code. He was able now to send off an email to Neal detailing his frustration with his slow progress. He also wanted to call his mother to see if she might be able to provide him with a little more background on his great-grandfather.

It wasn't until Tuesday that his team rolled out on a case in nearby Maryland. Hotch planned to return that night, so he was safe from Garcia's couch. Reid had been tasked with tracking all common occurrences of their unsub's activities in the surrounding area and report back to the team. This he did in less than 10 minutes, and since it would be another 2 hours before his team reached their destination, he put off calling anyone with the data.

Instead, he called his mother. "Hi Mom. How are you?" . . . "I'm fine, Mom." . . . "Yes, Ma'am, I'm still grounded." Agent Reid blushed a bit and wondered why he felt the need to tell his mother absolutely everything. "I know, Mom. I completely deserve it. No, Ma'am, I promise I'll never do anything that stupid again." He was getting frustrated. This conversation was not going the way he'd intended. "Look, Mom, I need to ask you a few questions about that box you sent me." . . . "Where did it come from?" . . . "What can you tell me about my great-grandfather Nesbit?"

The first question had produced a convoluted answer that Reid deduced was a result of his mother's medications and her inability to produce linear thought. She seemed to remember looking through her few possessions and stumbling upon it at the bottom of a box. She couldn't put together why she had then sent it to her son. Reid decided it probably didn't matter that much.

He was grateful that her distant memories were more intact than the recent ones. She passionately reiterated the most important aspects of what she knew about her grandfather's life. "He was an F.B.I. agent, Spencer. Just like you." The young man's jaw dropped. How could his mother never have told him before? But he didn't say anything afraid of derailing her story. She continued, "He worked out of New York, but went deep undercover in Nevada when the casinos were being established. He infiltrated the mob and became a trusted organizer for them. He prevented many innocent people from becoming victims while he was with them, but when the bosses started suspecting him, he sent a message to a colleague in New York. Help never came, and he was murdered, but not before he was set up. The Federal Government got word that he had absconded with the prized jewel collection of a visiting prince. They were convinced that he was murdered for his theft, though the jewels were never recovered. The Feds assumed he'd hidden them before his death."

Familiar with his mother's rantings, the young man asked, "Mom, are you absolutely certain that you remember the story correctly? It seems kind of . . . "

He was unable to finish his sentence as his mother frantically exclaimed, "Spencer, I know this story very, very well. My grandmother would repeat it constantly."

His phone gave the familiar click of someone else trying to call him, but his mother's words had struck a frightening note in Dr. Reid, so he ignored it, "Mom?" He wasn't quite sure how to continue, "Was . . . uhh . . . Did great-grandmother Nesbit . . . ummm . . . was she . . . sick?"

There was a strained silence on the other end of the line before his mother answered, "Do you mean, was she like me, Spencer?"

Reid pursed his lips together and knitted his brow, not entirely sure of what to say. His mother saved him from the awkwardness, "I'm afraid so." Bitterly, she said, "She was institutionalized for her own safety." Reid gulped, knowing this was directed at him. He knew he would never stop feeling guilty for not being able to help his mother more than he had. Dianna Reid knew she had just struck a dirty blow to her son. She tried to make it up to him with, "I love you, Spencer. I hope you'll be able to come see me sometime soon."

The young doctor jumped at the escape his mother had just offered him, "I-I will, Mom. Very soon. I promise." They hung up both aware it was a lie. Reid didn't have time to dwell on this however. Hotch had been the other person trying to contact him, so he quickly returned the call.

"Reid. You didn't answer when I called."

The young man knew he wasn't supposed to use the phone while on restriction without having a very good reason, and he didn't believe Hotch would consider his reasons good at all especially since the older man didn't even know about his side investigation, so he responded, "I'm sorry, Hotch. I was talking with my Mother."

Hotch softened immediately, "Ah, how is she?"

"She's fine. Thanks." Not wanting to get into the details, he pushed forward, "It seems there is a distinct pattern of common behavior in the Maryland area. The unsub likes sparsely populated areas, but all of the attacks have been within a quarter mile of a major highway."

Hotch could hear the tension in the young doctor's voice. "Good work, Reid. That narrows our search criteria quite a bit. I've asked Garcia to investigate a few other parameters. She could probably use your help with that."

"I'll go find her right now."

Before he could hang up, Hotch stopped him, "You should think about going to visit your mom sometime soon."

"Yeah, I'll think about it." Reid responded before he hung up.

Hotch knew he was simply being humored, but the kid really did need to get some things worked out with his mother. He decided not to push it for now, but would continue to encourage him after a few days.

Before running off to find Garcia, Reid sent a quick email to Neal.

XOXOXOXO

Peter was on a stake out all day Tuesday, and therefore, so was Neal. The younger man was bored out of his mind within the first hour, and Peter had to warn him several times to stay put. He wasn't about to let this trouble magnet out of his sight today. By the early afternoon, however, Peter had had enough. He called in for backup, and when they arrived, he gave them their instructions then began their drive back to the office.

When they were within a mile of the FBI building, Peter's phone rang. It was Elizabeth, "Hi Hon."

"Hi Honey. Hey, listen. I just got some news I think you should hear."

"Is everything alright?" Peter asked anxiously.

"Yeah. Everything's fine, but you may want to have a little talk with Neal after I fill you in."

Shooting a suspicious look at the younger man, he responded, "Oh really?" Neal, who had been listening closely, flashed him a look of innocent confusion. Peter sharply pulled into a small drive way and turned the car around, "We're on our way home now. Meet us there?" Neal looked slightly alarmed. "What did you do, Neal?" His only answer was a pair of wide, innocent blue eyes and a small shrug.