Chapter Text
Spencer really wasn’t expecting to come colliding with a figment of his past on a chilly, Thursday afternoon, but alas, here he was.
Spencer had been making his way across the Penn State campus, head buried in a journal, the twisted laces of his converse catching as he walked, when he collided with a solid mass, sending him flying to the ground.
The fall was sudden and jarring, and Spencer couldn’t help but gasp as he went down. He caught himself on his hands, the sharp edges of the gravel beneath him biting into his palms, and when he looked up, he saw the concerned frown of an unfamiliar student looking down on him.
The boy apologised profusely as Spencer stood, and he waved the sentiments off as he dusted the dirt from his trousers.
“I’m so sorry, man,” The boy gushed, his dark eyes genuinely sorrowful. He was tall, as tall as Spencer, but nearly double as wide, with broad shoulders and a solid chest. He had a kind face, though creased with worry, and his huge hands were holding onto Spencer’s pile of journals that had fallen to the ground as he did.
“Don’t worry,” Spencer assured him, gently pulling his books from the other boy’s grasp, and shooting him a smile. “I can assure you; this isn’t the first time I’ve suffered the consequences of reading whilst walking.”
The boy stared at him, his hands adjusting the cap he wore over his sandy hair absentmindedly, his eyes searching and his lips opened into an o shape.
“Are you okay?” Spencer asked him, glancing at his watch nervously. He had a lecture in ten minutes, and while he probably wouldn’t be late, this whole encounter had slowed him down.
“Spencer?” The boy’s voice was laced with surprise, but his face broke out into a smile. “I thought it was you!”
Spencer looked at him; he didn’t recognise the boy at all, though he thought there was something vaguely familiar in his smile and the set of his eyes. He racked his mind, scouring all corners of it, but unfortunately, he came up blank. The boy clearly knew him; he called him Spencer, not Professor Reid like any of his students would, and he was clearly pleased to see him, eliminating the theory that they could’ve met on a case.
“I’m sorry,” Spencer said, frowning as the lack of familiarity nagged at him. “I don’t recognise you, which is unusual as I have a-”
“Eidetic memory,” the boy finished, dimples pressing into his cheeks as he grinned. “I remember, man. God, this is so weird. I’m Jack – Jack Hotchner.”
Spencer felt something hit his stomach then; something aching and yearning and so fucking familiar.
Jack.
Of course. Now he knew, he could see it all. Hotch’s dark, deep set eyes, Hayley’s sandy curls and easy grins. Even Hotch’s dimples, rare as it was to see them, were pressed into his cheeks.
He wasn’t Aaron’s twin; Jack had a lighter colouring, though eyes were as dark, and he held himself with an ease that Hotch had never had the luxury of adopting. Jack was broader than Spencer recalled Hotch being, and with the football jersey that was currently stretched across his chest, he could assume it came from training, not necessarily genetics.
But there was something; perhaps in the way he stood, tall and proud, or even in the intensity of his gaze, like he would look at nothing but you, that was so quintessentially Hotch that it made Spencer’s breath catch.
“Jack?” He said, and he knew his voice was unsteady. “Oh God, I didn’t even recognise you.”
And the suddenly, a huge pair of arms were wrapped around Spencer’s shoulder’s, hugging him so tightly he was nearly lifted from the ground. His arm that had been holding his books was trapped beneath them, and the sharp corners dug into his stomach. With a laugh, Spencer patted his wide back.
When Jack released him, he looked sheepish.
“Shit, sorry,” he said, running his hand through his sandy locks, replacing his red cap when he had finished. “I forgot – you’re not big on touching, right?”
Spencer just smiled and shrugged. “I’ve gotten better,” he admitted, adjusting the strap on his messenger bag. “How have you been?”
Jack shrugged. “All good,” he said easily. “We moved out here when dad quit the Bureau. I finished high school, started college two years ago. I love it – I’m majoring in science.”
“I’m so pleased,” Spencer said, though something twinged in him at the mention of Hotch. He was truly pleased to hear it; Jack looked happy and healthy, and he was clearly succeeding in all he put his mind to. It was all Hotch had ever wanted for him. He paused for a moment, then asked the inevitable. “How is your dad?”
Jack’s grin didn’t diminish, and Spencer felt a wave of relief.
“He’s good,” Jack said. “Started working for a company specialising in data processing when we moved to Pennsylvania. Lives in a nice, quiet neighbourhood, runs three times a day, like a madman. Hasn’t changed much.”
Spencer hummed and smiled. He could imagine it; an immaculate house, gruelling runs, piles of paperwork. Very Hotch.
“How’s everyone at the BAU?” Jack asked him, seeming eager. “I haven’t seen anyone in years.”
Spencer’s smile turned wistful then, and he knew there was a melancholy in his eyes.
“I don’t know,” he confessed, sounding almost guilty even to his own ears. He still had his own shit to work through when it came to the FBI. “I don’t work there anymore.”
Jack’s mouth dropped open again, and he had shock painted across his features.
“Really?” he was surprised. “Dad always said that, out of everybody, you’d be there for life.”
Spencer felt a spasm of discomfort in his chest, and something in him yearned.
Outwardly, he just shrugged.
“Times change,” he said easily, though he wasn’t sure how much Jack believed him. “People do, too.”
There was a moment of quiet between them, and Spence glanced down at his watch. Seeing the traitorous hands ticking away, Spencer cursed under his breath.
“I’m sorry,” he said, looking back up at Jack. “I’ve got a class, and I’m running late.”
Jack smiled.
“Another PHD?” He guessed, and Spencer laughed.
“No,” he confessed, though didn’t mention he was actually studying for another PHD while he taught. “This is a class I’m lecturing.”
Jack nodded, but seemed stuck in thought.
He reached out and grasped Spencer’s arm, his huge palm nearly covering the entirety of Spencer’s bicep.
“Hey, Spence,” he said, dark eyes catching Spencer’s own. Spencer tensed at the nickname; he hadn’t heard it in years. “Can we see each other again? I would love to hear more about what happened after we left.”
Spencer felt conflicted; the meeting, a glimpse into the past he so treasured, was wonderful. It filled him with that sense of calm that he had been clawing at for years, even before he left the BAU. It made him remember what it was like to have a family, a full one, not fragments scattered all over the country.
But. But Hotch had left for a reason. This boy, this ray of light, had been Hotch’s focus. He wanted to protect Jack, keep him safe. Get him away from all of the shit that came with the BAU. All of the shit that came with Spencer.
“Jack,” his voice was reluctant, full of warning. “Your dad worked really hard to get you away from all that, I don’t think I should just…”
“Please,” Jack interrupted. He looked worried, like he had thought Spencer would say no. “I had a family, Spence. You were all family. And then it just – disappeared.”
Spencer heard the pain in his voice, and it made him wince. He knew what that felt like, and his heart ached with it.
“Okay,” he said, sure he would regret it. “Okay.”
Jack smiled, and he looked so much like Hotch that Spencer’s lungs froze.
“I’ll email you,” Jack said, light-hearted and grinning. “I’ll find you on the system.”
*****
Aaron was cutting into his salmon when Jack looked at him from across the table, eyes bright and mouth full. The image made Aaron grin; Jack looked like an eager hamster with his overstuffed cheeks and sunny disposition, and Aaron so looked forward to Thursday night dinners when Jack would come to visit. It was his favourite day of the week, every week, since his son had gone to college.
Aaron knew he was luckier than most. Most children went to college in different states from their parents, some even different countries; the thought was intensely painful to him. He hoped that he had hidden this from Jack, using his many of years of training to obscure his expressions and preferences, and that Jack had truly chosen to stay closer out of his own volition. But still, despite being one of a few lucky parents, Aaron still missed Jack with a burning sting throughout the rest of the week. He knew that some of that was normal, but he couldn’t deny that he had built his whole life here, in Pennsylvania, on Jack.
When they moved, Aaron gave up his career. A part of him that had held so much of his identity, controlled so much of who he was. He didn’t regret it; he would do it all again to keep Jack safe and happy. Virigina couldn’t do that for him, in the end. But he had never regained that part of himself since he had left. His current job was what the corporate world called ‘high stakes’; lots of people to manage and clients to impress. The deadlines are short and the hours can be long. And yet none of it was as fulfilling as the BAU had been for him; the pressure and stress that others seemed to feel didn’t touch Aaron. It wasn’t life or death – he had been there, felt that, and this wasn’t it.
So, his life had revolved around Jack. He lived, breathed, existed for his son. And so that crippling loneliness that echoed through him was absent on Thursday nights, when Jack would cram his ridiculously huge body around their tiny dinner table and eat four portions of whatever Aaron had created in a desperate attempt to sneak in a week’s worth of vegetables in one meal. He was happy and enthusiastic, often talking with his mouth full and resting his elbows on the table. Aaron loved it.
Aaron smiled across the table at his son, and mimicked blowing out his cheeks. Jack snorted and chewed frantically, swallowing his food down in chunks.
“I saw someone today,” Jack said through his chewing, and Aaron took an amused sip of his red wine.
“Oh,” he commented lightly. “Who?”
“Spencer Reid,” Jack’s words were still muffled by his salmon, but his eyes were keen and watching Aaron. He looked pleased, but uncertain, like he wasn’t sure how Aaron would react to the news.
The name ricocheted through his mind. God, he hadn’t heard that name in years. He remembered that man; his wide, enthusiastic smiles, his mad mess of curls, the way he rambled on about any number of topics. The thought made Aaron smile; he missed that mind of his, the way it could make connections and patterns that no-one else’s seemed to. He missed the gentle teasing, the way Spencer’s brow would furrow when he was affronted, the way he would look at Aaron to check when he made a good connection in a case.
He felt his lips twist up into a smile, and he stopped them immediately.
Not the time, Aaron.
“Really?” he kept his voice pleasantly neutral, and went back to cutting his broccoli. He looked at his plate, not the inquisitive eyes of his son. “How was he?”
Jack hummed happily. “Good,” he sounded cheerful, happy that Aaron hadn’t shut it down. “He’s lecturing at Penn State. Looks good – hair is still an absolute disaster, and he looks like he could use a decent night’s sleep, but good, mostly.”
“Reid always lectured between cases,” Aaron said. Stay neutral. “He was sought after by nearly every university in the US.”
He could picture Reid now; dark eyes above high cheekbones, bitten red lips. He could see the way Reid ran his hands through his hair when he was focused, the way his long finger scanned the page as he was reading. He remembered how students were always unsure of Reid at first; looking at him in disbelief in the first lecture, but utterly hooked by the third. He had that way, a kind of endearing intelligence, that meant people just wanted to learn more of his mind with every passing interaction.
“He was lecturing,” Jack said, putting down his cutlery despite his plate being only half eaten. Aaron raised an eyebrow in surprise, but Jack seemed set on what he was saying. “But he wasn’t guest lecturing. He’s full time.”
Full time. Reid was lecturing full time. He felt his mouth drop open instinctively, and he didn’t have the focus to stop it.
“He’s not with the BAU anymore,” Jack said simply. “He hasn’t been for years, apparently.”
Aaron’s silence continued, and his hands remained frozen, clutching his cutlery like it would give some answers.
“I looked him up,” Jack continued, and he watched his father’s face carefully. “He’s been lecturing in criminal psychopathology for five years. Two at Florida, the last three here at Penn State. He has written a ridiculous number of published papers, though according to critics he never refers to cases that he worked within them, and he’s studying for a PHD in forensic psychology.”
Aaron nodded, dragging his sanity forward enough to click his mouth shut. He looked down at the table, seeing the grain of the wood swirl there. He kept his eyes focused on it when he spoke.
“I’m glad to hear he’s doing well,” Aaron said carefully. “Reid was always a good man.”
Jack nodded.
“Yeah,” Jack picked up his fork again. “We’re meeting for coffee on Sunday morning. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you joined us.”
This time, Aaron dropped his cutlery. They hit his plate with a clang, and it made Jack wince. Hotch looked up, and he knew his eyes were hard.
“Dad-” Jack started, and he looked exasperated.
“Jack,” Aaron’s voice was calm. “We moved here for a reason. This could bring all that danger back.”
“Spencer is not dangerous,” Jack protested, and Aaron held his hand up in pause.
“I know that,” Aaron assured Jack, deliberately softening his eyes. “Reid means well. But with him, comes all of the danger that we moved away from. It was so hard, starting again here, but it was necessary. We weren’t safe.”
Jack’s cheeks were flushed now, and his eyes were filled with indignation.
“I remember him as Uncle Spencer, did you know that?” Jack sounded sad, wounded, and Aaron felt the regret rising in his throat. “I remember parties with all of them, and Spencer doing magic for me and Henry. I remember him coming to your triathlons, I remember movie nights and Doctor Who board games. I remember Christmas presents tied with bows made of stripey socks, and chemistry sets that he ‘improved’. I remember feeling safe, Dad. I remember feeling loved.”
Jack looked down for a moment, and Aaron reached across the table for his hand. His son slotted their fingers together, and Aaron jolted when he realised his son’s hands were the same size as his own.
“I know why we left,” Jack said, more measured but still sad. He looked at Aaron, dark eyes pleading. “And I don’t resent it. I don’t resent you. But I went from having a family, a group of people to protect me and love me, to only having you. It was enough, and I’m happy, but it still stung. Seeing Spencer was like I had that family again, even just for a moment. I loved him, Dad. I want to love him again, if he’ll have me.”
Aaron felt Jack’s words ricocheting through his chest. He remembered it all; the group dinners, the way Spencer would treat Jack as another godson, the Christmas presents with the cartoon patterned paper. He missed it so much, especially those first few years.
He hadn’t realised Jack felt the loss this much; that he still felt it.
“He might not want to stay in contact,” he said eventually, still gripping onto his son’s hand for dear life. “Spencer might want to put the BAU behind him, too.”
Especially considering he left – he left. Aaron’s brain still could not get over the thought of Spencer anywhere else but the BAU. It must have been something bad.
Jack smiled at him, all teeth and dimples, and he suddenly looked eight years old again.
“He’s agreed to coffee,” Jack’s expression was blinding. “But I wont push if he doesn’t want me too.”
Aaron sighed, imagining his over-excited son with Spencer’s awkwardness.
“Why don’t I believe you?” Aaron asked.
Jack raised his eyebrows.
“You’ll see,” he responded instead, like it was obvious. “Because you’ll be there.”