Lockdown

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty

28/11/2019. 07:22 hours. FBI Offices, Quantico, Virginia.

Spencer had been ecstatic to finally return to work. The previous six weeks had passed by at a mind-numbing crawl. David had truly been a rock to him, and he found himself opening up more to the older man and to Dr. Dove. His self injury urges remained, though less intense than before.  His seizures had reduced in frequency thanks to a new anticonvulsant regime. He smiled to himself at the sight of his desk, which appeared exactly as he left it, a stack of manila folders in his tray. Spencer eased himself down into his swivel chair and set his satchel down under his desk. The heating was already blaring in the bullpen, making the room feel toasty and warm. Spencer shrugged his black, woollen coat off and draped it over the back of his chair. He slid the uppermost folder from the stack and dropped it on the desk in front of him. He gave a sigh and opened the folder. Just as he retrieved a pen from the pot on his desk, a voice interrupted his thoughts.
“Reid? Can we talk?” asked Emily, her head peering around her door. Spencer swallowed hard and responded with a stiff nod of his head. He came to his feet and made his way up the few steps to Emily’s office. He offered her a small smile as she held the door open and stepped back to let him in, closing the door behind them.

Emily indicated to the sofa. Spencer lowered himself onto the sofa and clasped his hands on his bouncing knees. Emily perched next to him and flicked her hair over her shoulder.
“How are you?” asked Emily, her dark eyes considering the young man. He had an aura of peace about him at last. The scars on his face, hands, and wrists remained evident. His jaw remained unshaven but much tidier than it had been. His hair hung in fluffy curls past the collar of his black button-down shirt.
“I’m good. I haven’t had a seizure in three weeks. Dr. Dove said it would be beneficial to find an outlet for my anger and suggested something creative like writing. I’m three chapters into a crime novel, believe it or not. It seems to be helping. David has been amazing, too. I’ve officially moved in with him. It’s for the best. My PTSD symptoms still remain, and the epilepsy is life-long. My neurologist and Dr. Dove said that I needed to live with someone, and David insisted.” Emily rested a palm on top of Spencer’s hands. Spencer blinked at the hand on his, then averted his gaze up to meet Emily’s eyes.
“I’m proud of you, you know?” Spencer tilted his head in confusion and gently traced the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip.
“For what?”
“You’ve overcome so much in the past five months. The fact that you managed to walk in here and get to work is a testament to your strength.”
“I’m really not-” Spencer was interrupted by Emily slapping a hand over his mouth to silence him.
“Don’t even go there, Spencer. You’re one of the strongest people I know. You fought past your suicidal thoughts and multiple kidnappings. You have a long-term condition that you have learned to live with. Hell, you overcame a drug addiction on your own. If that doesn't scream strength, I don't know what does.” Emily moved her hand away from his mouth.
“What happens if I have a seizure in the field?”
“You get Auras, right?” Spencer furrowed his brow.
“Yeah.”
“As soon as you get auras, you tell one of us. We will make sure you're safe. You're required to rest each night. Your coffee intake is being closely monitored, and you're never to be left alone.” Spencer’s eyebrows shot up into his hair. “We've also all been trained in giving buccal Midazolam if you seize five minutes.” Spencer’s mouth gaped in horror.
“Emily! You know my relationship with coffee! It's a requirement!”
“It’s not up for negotiation. You need sleep to reduce your risk of seizures. Your neurologist says you need to cut back on caffeine.” Noticing the questioning glint in Spencer’s eye, Emily quietly cleared her throat.
“I had to get a report from the neurologist as part of your return to work.” Spencer nodded in response. He narrowed his eyes, a smile quirking at the corners of his mouth.
“I'm not being sent to a prison, am I?” Emily’s features tightened in confusion.
“What? No…” It took a minute for it to click in her brain. Spencer was chuckling to himself. Emily gasped in mock horror and slapped the genius across the top of the arm.
“Get back to work, Dr Reid. And I know you've already had at least one cup of coffee, so I'm ordering you to have herbal tea.” Spencer groaned and rolled his eyes as he came to his feet, swinging the office door open to head to the break room. Emily watched in amusement through the open door as he dropped a tea bag into a mug.

28/11/2019. 09:33 hours. FBI Offices,  Quantico, Virginia.

Spencer had made it through a sizeable chunk of his folders, though he decided to slow down his progress. He could feel a dull ache forming behind his eyes. He set his pen down on the papers and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes in an effort to relieve the pain. JJ glanced up from her own reports and peered over the frosted glass separating their desks to see Spencer rubbing his eyes furiously with his fists.
“Spence? You okay?” Spencer visibly tensed at the nickname but managed to quickly shrug it off. After all, this was JJ. She had always called him ‘Spence’. His hands thudded softly against the desk as he dropped them from his face. His eyes were reddened.
“Yeah. I have a headache.” Spencer slid open the top drawer of his desk and rummaged through his stationery. He retrieved a foil strip of Tylenol and popped two white tablets out onto the desk. He grimaced at the sound of the drawer closing. JJ turned back to her paperwork as Spencer threw the tablets into his mouth and swallowed them with a gulp of green tea.

A pinging sound attracted Spencer’s attention. He leaned slightly to his left and slipped his cell phone from his trouser pocket. He frowned at the screen. Unknown Sender.  He opened the message and frowned. 
You can't hide forever.
Stop ignoring me.
Spencer quickly closed the message and pocketed his phone. He lifted his head to see JJ staring at him.
“You okay?” asked JJ. Spencer brushed his curls back out of his face and grabbed his pen.
“Yeah. Wrong number.” JJ returned to her file. Spencer scrunched his face in concentration and turned his attention back to his paperwork. He could not help the anxiety swirling in the pit of his stomach, but he pushed it down as far as it would go and got to work, his hand moving across the page quickly in his usual scrawl.